Pizza Logic

For some reason, I always expect a slice of pizza to be around about two bucks. Three, at the most. I don't know what long-gone decade I inhabited in a past life, because a decent slice of pizza with enough stuff on it to fill me up can cost up to six, and it's hard to imagine when pizza slices were ever actually cheap. I kinda subconciously put it into the same category as hot dogs. Basic food one picks up on the go; depending on where each is obtained, it could satisfy a craving or give you food poisoning. BASIC! Shouldn't a slice be cheap? No? I can't even get a decent, non-food-poisony slice of cheese for under four bucks. Well, technically I can, but if I want anything else on it, I best be prepared to shell out some more dough. Totally not fair, pizza people, not at all.

Like, last night, I went with a couple friends to a nice place in the neighborhood. The slice I got had like, pesto, onion, some kind of meat, regular cheese, feta, everything. So. Good. Filled me up. Made me want a whole pizza of it. BUT. It was $6.00. What. Plus tip. What. When I compare that slice with a sandwich or a burrito or a salad or sushi or whatever, I think, yeah, that's not bad. But when I think of it in terms of my pizza logic, I'm like what.the.fuck. I just paid seven bucks for ONE slice of PIZZA!

Clearly this is a deep psychological issue for me. One that is making me hungry even as I recover from a big-ass bowl of spaghetti.