There are few things that we Buffalonians take as seriously as pizza. There’s a pizza and wing joint on every corner of this town. Pizza is everywhere here. When I was a kid in Rochester, pizza was a semi-rare commodity. It was a treat. It was something special. There were only two pizzerias in our neighborhood and they were both slow as molasses. If you wanted a pizza for dinner on a Saturday night, you better have ordered it by 4:00. Otherwise, fuhgeddaboutit. And to top it off, they had not yet thought of the idea of selling individual slices that were ready for anyone to come buy at a moment’s notice. Now, every freaking gas station in town sells slices and most of them are passable and will do in a pinch. They’re certainly much more edible than those disgusting roller dogs. I don’t know how anyone eats those. Which all brings me to my point about Tops. They never stop…selling shitty pizza.
I was in a hurry and ran to Tops on my lunch hour. They’re the closest pizza slices to my office. How in the world anyone in this day and age can make such awful pizza is beyond me. It’s a little sauce and a little cheese on this dry bread crust. I ate the top of it and threw the rest out. Never again, Tops. Fool me once…
There’s a gas station about a mile further down the road that sells pizza slices for half the price and they’re twice as good. C’mon Tops. Get your pizza act together!
Since I used a Who title, I thought it would be a good opportunity to post this amazing English Beat cover by Peter Townsend. I love this version.