Pizza By The Slice

Picture this, last year during Easter week I’m sitting there drinking a hot cup of happiness brewed fresh from my new Keurig machine as I was getting my day going.  The checkbook was balanced, workout was done and I was all ready to start the day. So I’m just sitting there updating my Facebook, googling this and stumbling upon that when all of a sudden Yahoo tells me where to find the country’s best pizza.  All I could think was, “Is it true?  Can the country’s best pizza be right here in my own backyard?… 

Just then my iPhone rang snapping me out of my pizza daze and it’s my manager Mr. Bricks.  But this time he’s not calling to ramble on about McRib’s being back again.  To my surprise he is actually calling to tell me I need to get my Greek butt in gear because I have an audition in an hour.

Perfect I’m thinking, I’ll slide on by and grab a slice of the country’s “best pizza” right after my audition.  So I grabbed my sweetie, laced up my sneakers and together we set out on a mission.  We were super excited.  See when it comes to pizza by the slice it’s something of a tradition or almost a religious experience for us.  In a way it’s like a perpetual Easter Egg hunt.  We go around all over the place searching high and low in every town we travel to, in order to find the best slice.

In my noggin nothing quite compares to a fresh hot slice washed down by an iced cup of happiness followed by a little chocolate treat.  Being that it was right around Easter we were in the egg-hunt mode already and we were off.

So we hurried off to my audition as fast as we could because we were both about to digest our spleens.  I race inside and flash my Greek baby-blues and flip my golden locks.  (Yes I booked it – hello people… Cystex Cranberry).  Then as fast as could be I was back in the car on 21st and 5th ave in NYC.  My sweetie had already entered the location of the Pizza-Joint that was proclaimed to be the “best slice in NY”.  We drove right past what up until then we had considered the best pizza in the city, the one we had always gone to.  We felt a little kick in the heart as though we were about to cheat on them.

We raced uptown on 8th ave, then right on 57th and a quick left into Central Park to cut down on time.  Dodging people on bikes and skates buggies and pigeons we came to 110th street just before stopping outside “Presidential Pizza before making a halting stop and almost ran down a meter maid while doing so.  “What are we getting?” I asked.  Without blinking he said, “The usual.  The only way to truly know if the pizza is as good is to go with a good old fashioned slice of plain.”

I stroll up to the counter, “Give me two slices of plain,” I say.  I was probably bouncing like a little kid in a candy store with a grin from ear to ear as I said it I was so hungry.  Then the man slides me two pieces on some paper plates.  I dab off some of the grease with a napkin so I won’t drip on my outfit or my sneakers.  Then I sprinkle them with oregano just before leaving to join my sweetie waiting in the car.  I hand a slice to him and we both revel for a few seconds in the joy of knowing we are about to eat the holy grail of all pizza.  We both simultaneously chomp down and I’m thinking  “Good Grief –
I want to die”… not because it was good but because it was the worst piece of pizza pie I had ever had.  Then about the same time we both say “this pizza is Gross!” It was like chewing on a piece of cardboard.  There wasn’t enough sauce, and the cheese was like rubber.  The iced coffee and Cadbury eggs were going to have to save the day, and save the day they did.

The moral of the story… you can’t always believe everything you read on the internet.  Sure it was muckery to go on a wild goose chase to eat what in my humble opinion was the worst slice of pizza I have ever had, but at the end of the day if that’s the worst thing that happened, I’m doing pretty good.  I’m happy, healthy, I have a sweetie, four fur~babies, and a heavenly father who loves me so much that he sent his only son to die for me.  Yeah, it’s Easter Sunday, he is Risen and that means for me – life is pretty darn good.

Blessings, Love & Music ~
Ava xo
www.avaaston.com

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About Ava Aston's Muckery

Hello! Thanks for stopping by. My name is Ava Aston and I am a recording artist and actress. I'm just an ordinary girl who acts, sings, writes songs and now writes this blog. I hope you enjoy my blogging enough to want to subscribe. Blessings, Ava If you want to learn even more about me, check out my website at www.avaaston.com
This entry was posted in Actress, Ava Aston, Blog, Blonde, coffee, Cute girl, dunkin donuts, funny, Greek, Holiday, iced coffee, internet, Mr. Bricks, New York City, true story and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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