Lippard.Multics 1985-10-08 17:32:24 mst Tue Subject: pizza anonymous Date: Tuesday, 8 October 1985 13:13 mst From: Charlie Spitzer To: {mbx >udd>m>jjl>misc>misc} From: tpb As I stood this morning, my head pounding, looking down to see If I could see any of my penis protruding beyond my ever widening girth, I discovered the cause of my pounding headache (bearing some verisimilitude to a hangover) and my waistline -- pizza. Yes, I had to admit it -- I had a Sicilian hangover. I had freaked out last night and bought a whole Sicilian pie for myself. Six pieces for dinner, and four glasses of cheesy white wine by the fireplace, ah, not bad you say; yet at 2AM, laying in bed, not sleepy (hell, four glasses ain't that much), my stomach growls at me thus: "get me something to eat dammit - or you'll never finish this book!", I being weak of will, and easily persuaded ("give it to Paul, he'll eat anything") I got up, some of my naughtier bits shrivelling up, and proceeded to step on the cat on my way to the kitchen. Eyeing the refrigerator nervously I approached it, suddenly, it flung its door open at me and the cold pizza leapt (leaped) from the box and into my hands ... I couldn't help it - it was destiny. Taking my pizza and a beer into the bedroom and squirming down into the covers, I knew I was in for it. I new I had a problem. Yes, I was a pizzaholic. I knew I couldn't make it through the night without those slices of Sicilian. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. At first it started innocently enough, a slice at lunch, two after work. Then I started to need one at home, after work, to "unwind". I would sit for hours, gobbling slices, whilst staring at the TV with the glazed eyes of a pizzaholic. Oh, I didn't start on the hard stuff at first, just a small pie with extra cheese, but then I moved onto the harder stuff, meatballs, green peppers, finally (augh!) "the works". I began to anticipate the heartburn, taking two or three digel beforehand, knowing what agony awaited me when I woke up, but munch away I did. It began to affect my work, I would sneak into the bathroom to sneak a slice. "Just to tide me over to lunch" I told myself, but I knew I was hooked. It affected my social life -- as only extra garlic can. My girlfriend left me, she said she couldn't spend that much time in italian restaurants, my friends deserted me, they told me that it embarrassed them to order six pies for two people, yet I had to continue -- I *needed* my pie. Then one day, I saw it, an article in the Readers Digest, titled "I was a post-teenage/early adulthood pizzaholic". I read it, I finally found someone who shared my compulsions! At the end, I found a quiz: "Are you a Pizzaholic?" 1) Do you wake up in the middle of the night craving heartburn? 2) Do you find yourself saying "Just one more" and then discovering that a whole pie has been done? 3) Have you ever driven and munched? 4) Do you need to have one in the evening "just to unwind" ? 5) Have you found yourself eating during stressful periods? 6) Do you need "just a slice" when you've been fighting with your spouse? 7) Do you eat alone? 8) Do your friends complain about your eating at parties? 9) Do you need a slice in the mornings "just to wake up" ? 10) Do find it hard to get friends to go out for "just some social eating" ? If you answered "yes" to more than three of the above, then you've got an eating problem. Salvation! I had discovered that I was not alone! I joined PA (Pizza Anonymous). A group of sincere individuals gathered into a self-help group in order to beat this problem -- pizza fascination. I am now down to a pie a week. I no longer wake up in the middle of the night, shaking, needing a pizza. I no longer crave gas. I have self-respect! I can say "NO" to pizza! YES! I _CAN_ say "NO" to pizza! (theme song to "gone with the wind" in the background) I'll never have pizza-breath again! I'm home Tara! There's no place like home, there's no place like home. (I tap my fork three times). now, about the veal Parmagian' ... tp. (the hungry)