I am only 23, but I feel fairly confident that when I die, I’ll probably be one of those sad bastard geezers who complains about all the shit I never crossed off my bucket list with my pal Morgan Freeman. “I never hang glided,” I’ll say. “I never did whippets out of a hooker’s ass while watching Fraggle Rock,” I’ll moan in between sputtery breaths. “I never wrote the great American novel about a boy, his dog, his peg leg, and their quest for religious freedom, free from the persecution of the oppressive Amish overlords and Phillies fans of Western Pennsylvania,” I’ll say, looking right into my grandson’s eyes as I surely scar him for life by dying right then.
But I do know one thing: I’ve eaten some pretty fucked up pizza in my day (among them, pizza (a more apt name would be “circle-shaped garbage”) sold in a shitty restaurant inside a Pick ‘N Save). But none might be more fucked up than the crazy shit I’ve seen/eaten at Mesa Pizza, Minneapolis’ finest, conveniently located near the university and my friend’s apartment, pizza joint. Seriously, I ate salami (like the kind they put on school lunches) on pizza there once, and I don’t even like salami. It was fucking bonkers.
Mesa Pizza, like every near the university pizza joint, is a slice-based affair, with most of the sales coming from the batshit crazy combos whoever was working that day cooked up. I once saw a vegetable pizza in there that looked like it had vomit from the creature from The Little Shop of Horrors on top (they take pride in how crazy their veggie pizzas are, which is like being proud you can play piano—it’s cool, but it’s no guitar). They also make a hamburger and French fry pizza, which is topped by hamburger-like meat (no bun=no burger) and some of the gnarliest looking fries of all time on top (they looked like aborted potato fetuses). Seeing as I’m already headed to an early grave due to hypertension and high cholesterol, I never had the man biscuits to step to the hamburger and fries one, but I did sample some of the meat-based pizzas (I would have eaten one with vegetables, but all of the meat and veggie slices come with weird ass shit I’d never eat, like radishes or something called “green peppers”), including one that has salami, vinegar, and pepperoni, which was totes tubular, and my personal fave, ground beef and pepperoni.
The Good: The toppings at Mesa Pizza are top-notch shit, so much so that their normal sausage is an off-the-menu affair that costs like 10 dollars more for a whole pie (at least I’m told. Once we tried to order a large sausage, and the dude just laughed at us. I think it was probably due to the whole sausage being a hilarious euphemism for penis thing). I’ve never had the money to try that, but their pepperonis are like little slices of a pre-prison sentence ODB: salacious and possibly full of crack. The cheese is stretchy in a way that is only possible in tube forms (like mozzarella sticks), which makes for a fun and child-like eating experience, and the sauce, when you get a slice with the normal tomato stuff, is also excellent.
The Bad: Have you ever tried eating a pepperoni and ground beef slice while seated next to your friend’s girlfriend, who you’re sure hates you with unbridled passion, as she goes to town on a slice that has feta cheese, tomatoes, spinach, and some kind of yellow sauce a brother can’t readily identify that smells like mold? I have. It gargles mastodon balls.
Try: A good rule of thumb at Mesa Pizza is to try anything with pepperoni on it. It probably won’t be too fucked up, and it’ll likely get you harder than a level five Sudoku puzzle. Unless you’re into some weird ass vegetable combos, then have one of those. But remember, tomatoes have feelings too. If you’re man enough (or have an indestructible colon), try that hamburger and fry shit and get back to me. You probably only have about 15 minutes to live.
Rating: Weezer (Blue Album)
NOTE: Eating at Mesa Pizza would require you to go to Minnesota, which is now where Brett Favre lives/gobbles pain pills. I do not recommend taking the more drastic action of actually living in Minnesota, because that place is the worst.
