Monday, July 27, 2009

I feel guilty and dirty = the I feel guilty and dirty part...

When I finally woke up I felt disgusting. I couldn't sleep, there was some strange presence in my room the entire night, and all I wanted to do was forget. But when I left my room the apartment smelled of it. I couldn't get rid of it.

I took a shower. Didn't help.

But I had to get ready for work. I got dressed in the sleepy stupor I was still in. But as I left I knew I had to get rid of it. I had to never talk to this pizza again. I went downstairs, got a trash bag, and along with the crap that I needed to get rid of in my room, I threw it out, never to hear from it again.

Or so I thought.

When i got to work, about two hours into the day, it came a knocking.


But just so we're aware, ordering Papa John's was maybe the worst mistake of my life. I'm going to wait AT LEAST three months to order it again. By then I'll probably have forgotten how bad it is.

Getting rid of it = the guilty aftermath

I took it outside in its box, not showing everyone how much of it I had actually eaten. And boy oh boy did I feel guilty. And of course who should I see but my roommate walking up the stairs.

"Oh... you got your pizza?" She asked, but you could tell she was smirking about it on the inside.

"Yeah." I said. I didn't want to admit it.

"You going downstairs?" She asked.


"Have fun!"

I wouldn't have fun. I had been found out. I took it downstairs and sat at the table with it. It kept sitting there, tempting me. I didn't want to keep eating, but I felt I had to. So I ate another slice. I grabbed a beer and drank that to try to wash out the taste of the Papa John's slice. But it was still there.

I went to bed, hoping it would go away. But the entire night I had awful nightmares about exgirlfriends, and I couldn't sleep with it sitting in my stomach. I woke up at 6 and got a glass of water. I felt awful.

I tried to go back to sleep... but it just wouldn't leave.

Eating it = The sex part...

I guiltily brought it into my room mostly because I didn't want my roommates to see what I had brought home. It's not that I wouldn't admit to it... I'm writing a blog about it for Christ's sake... but I didn't really want to be seen with it. And in my room I had the comfort of knowing that no one could look at me.

I finished, but without any sort of facial expression. I was full. It wasn't done yet. There were still a few slices. But I decided that I was too engorged to continue, so I let the pizza sit there, staring back at me.

I couldn't look at it... it reminded me of the four slices I had just consumed. I felt horrible.

Last night was a mistake.

The Problem:

Dru is sitting at his computer and the rain is pouring outside of his Brooklyn apartment and there is absolutely no way for him to even fathom going outside with the weather the way it is plus he has a blister on his foot and it hurts for him to put on the proper footware needed to trek through the gloom and muck of Brooklyn at this hour. The time is 9:15 PM on a Sunday, and Dru is hungry.

The Solution:

Papa Johns delivers pizza and is one of the only places that delivers in Dru's neighborhood.

The Bigger Problem:

Dru feels horribly horribly guilty and is sweating something gross that doesn't exist except in Papa John's pizza.

The Conclusion:

Papa John's Pizza is the equivalent of a one night stand. I feel guilty, gross, horribly upset with myself... and I'm worried that I made a mistake.