This morning I woke up to the music of Maroon 5’s “Maps.” This song has, for better or worse, been my alarm radio wake-up-call for the past work week. But today, Adam Levine’s high-pitched “castration singing” got my brain booted up just enough for me to realize today was Saturday.
Promptly I decided to go the hell back to sleep. Screw getting up! I swatted my hand in the general direction of the alarm radio, which, due to how my bed rests against the table, sits almost directly on my own head. Sometimes I swat my own head.
It took a few swats but ultimately I got Adam Levine to stop yelping at me, and my bedroom settled again into quiet. My eyelids grew heavy. I started to sink into the mattress like in those Space Foam commercials. I’ll say I was probably three seconds from falling back into a deep deep morning sleep, but then an image, sharp and crisp, flashed across my field of foggy dream-vision. A slice of pizza. Actually two slices of pizza, wrapped up in aluminum foil.
read about my major beef with Maroon 5’s new song
Just like that, the dream world dropped out from under me and there I was back in my bed, wide awake. No Adam Levine needed this time! I was alert, good to go. It was time to get up.
What happened was I remembered I had two slices of pizza left over from last night’s “Pizza Friday” feeding frenzy. This wasn’t Little Caesar’s either. It was the real deal. It was the same place that had Pizza Obama on the window.
Those two slices, I knew, were going to be my breakfast. I’d have them cold too. I am staunchly against reheating pizza for any reason, and especially not in the morning.
Cold good pizza is one of the top breakfasts I can think of. Something about the tanginess of the cold tomato sauce set against the islands of hardened cheese atop the still-crispy, cool crust. It’s the only breakfast that can lure me out of bed early on a Saturday morning. French toast and eggs and sausage and all that? Well those’re good but, apparently, they’re not good enough to get me out of bed. With them, I’ll get out of bed only after a few extra snooze sessions and hope there’s still some left. Which there almost never is.
“Cold pizza introduces a much-needed crisis situation to my wake-up routine.”
With cold pizza, though? I’m out of the bed so fast that if I look back quick enough I can see my own ghost-image still laying there thinking about cold pizza. The promise of cold pizza in the refrigerator, for me, is the best alarm clock ever. Way better than Adam Levine yelping directly into my ear; I can just hit snooze and be done with it. Cold pizza introduces a much-needed crisis situation to my wake-up routine. Decisive action must be taken right away.
Because I know that if I don’t get to the pizza soon enough, somebody else will see it in the fridge and eat it first. It is such a major bummer to launch yourself out of bed, riot down the stairs, and hook your hand into the refrigerator door handle, only to discover you’d been outplayed, outeaten.
Today wasn’t one of those days. My pizzas were right where they were supposed to be: sort of out of sight on the top shelf of the refrigerator, sagging over the ledge in their sleeping bag of aluminum foil. But they weren’t there for long…
This time I got lucky, folks. But what about you? Are you into cold pizza for breakfast? Do you heat it up, or just eat it up?
Read about my discovery of Pizza Obama (Who Also Plays Soccer)
Or, for more practicallyserious pizza action, check out: Upside Down Hamburgers and Folded Pizza Slices