We are not these dudes.
Pizza sits alone in an unfuckwithable food category. Like a can cozey that says “A bad day of golfing is still better than a good day at work,” most people agree that even shitty pizza is still pretty good. So what happens when you take the power of pizza creation into your own feeble hands in service of trying to gross out your bro? Pizza vs. Pizza, in which two esteemed constables of pizza mastication, Dr. Tenderoni and Dr. Benji Mane, your two Madison correspondents, challenge each other to eat totes gross slices of the other’s creation at Roman Candle.
Tenderoni: Sorry for the long delay between our first Pizza vs. Pizza Challenge, and this, our second trip into Roman Candle’s worm hole of fucked up pizza toppings (Blue Cheese? More like Blue FuckYourself). I had a rough couple of months–I lost a pair of Stanley Cups on NHL 2009, I ripped a hole in my favorite Led Zeppelin T-shirt and I totally stubbed a toe that one time in January. It really sucked. Benji Mane apparently had a kid during that time, but he is not a woman, so I don’t understand how that could have worked. His new baby roommate is pretty cool though.
Anyways, Dr. Mane and myself agreed to finally get some meat involved in this Pizza vs. Pizza, because the variety of meats available at Roman Candle are pretty gnarly too. But the meat wasn’t my primary concern. I had an ace in the hole for this Pizza vs. Pizza challenge: Zucchini. Benji Mane reportedly hates the stuff the way baby Hitler hates juice. I figured even if I were to put normal stuff on there for him, he’d be all Hulk-style angry about the zucchini. And he was, even though I took it easy on him by choosing fresh mushrooms and oven-roasted chicken breast. He literally went, “Oh man, I hate zucchini. Waaaaahhh.”
Benji Mane: It’s true: my wife had a baby and that baby is my daughter. Now my life is forever changed and I can rarely get legally drunk anymore. True story: One of the first days we had her at home, she shit so hard that it flew out of her diaper and into her eye, and all over my face. I had to rush her to the bathroom to promptly clean the shit out of her eyes, making it possible for me keep the shit on my face for a full 10 minutes. If any of you don’t have kids yet, just think about this story the next time you’re about to nut all up in some lady guts. It’ll probably help you go for a little longer.
So the littlest Mane came along when Tenderoni and I once again descended into pizza hell via Roman Candle. I think the first time we did this feature we made some rule about no hot stuff on the slices, but I forgot, so that’s just what I did. Jalapenos, with all the seeds and juice, can totally body slam all other flavors near by. So I think it was a pretty clever mind game from Mane to make the slice look like a luscious Hawaiian treat with a little something extra; it looks fun, but it’s totally not. Like luring your enemy into a sweet-ass luau, only to jump from behind the tiki bar and punch him right in the dick.
Those jalapenos are no fucking joke.
Tenderoni: Benji Mane’s choice of jalapenos—which were so spicy my face hurt—and pineapples—which were so juicy that each bite yielded a cumshot of pineapple juice on my mouth’s hangy ball thing—was sinister indeed, but his choice of prosciutto crossed a line I had drawn in the sand. It crossed my religious practices to eat hog for breakfast, but I did it anyway, because it would have been a disservice most foul to the 13 people that will eventually read this for me to have quit so early.
(As a sidebar, here, before you think I’m making a too-easy Muslim/Jew joke, I’m really making an obtuse reference to Ice Cube’s “It Was a Good Day.” And no joke, I follow that song like scripture. In fact, just this morning I put an ass to sleep after going so deep, and I fucked around and got a triple double.)
But yeah, prosciutto was pretty okay, and pineapples aren’t all that bad, I guess. Though I will never get the idea of having fruit on a pizza that isn’t one of those piles of shit you buy at the grocery store for Fourth of July parties. At any rate, the other toppings didn’t matter, because those hot-as-the deepest pit of hell jalapenos dominated everything soundly. I even tried burying the jalapeños in a wad of crust, and pouring a shitload of marinara on them, but those jalapenos still ruined my shit. And I’m generally in favor of spicy food, but even the light number of jalapenos was too much for me.
This shit was so healthy, it actually had negative grease.
Benji Mane: You know what’s weird? My grandma used to make zucchini bread that was totally amazing and I would eat the shit out of it all the time. But the vegetable itself makes me barfy just writing about it. Even though it would be really uncomfortable, I would shove a zucchini right up my ass just so it would get shit all over it. If I was an inventor and zucchinis had faces, I’d invent a gun that shot knives just so I could shoot a zucchini in the face with a bunch of knives. I fucking hate zucchini. And because zucchini ran rampant on this slice, I hated it.
But what was going on with the rest of this slice? Oven baked chicken breast and fresh mushrooms? The only benefit to eating this healthy is maybe my beard will finally start to fill out. I’d go from looking like Jude Law in The Talented Mr. Ripley to Jude Law in Cold Mountain. Also, I’d be around to see my daughter graduate from high school. But that’s it! And a life without taste is a life worth suiciding the fuck out of. Still, what this slice lacked in flavor and making me happy, it made up for in smelling farty and making me regular.
Results: Draw Both competitors pussed out yet again, leaving the official record at 0-0-2.
