Okay. Lemme start off by admitting this: as a working woman, I am periodically driven by desperation to eat something other than organic rainbows and the pearlescent farts of celebrities for lunch. Sometimes, my lunch item has to be stuck in the Box of Horror, known to the less enlightened and economically ungifted among us as ‘the microwave’. Sometimes, I don’t HAVE fifteen minutes in the morning to pack a salad in a goddamn mason jar. Sometimes, I care less about whether what I’m eating is raw, vegan, and full of the proper vitamins and more about ohmiGAWD I’m hungry, PLEASE vast world of comestibles provide me with something I can cram in my flabby maw.
This, I suppose, is how we wound up in possession of this particular item:
“Oh, shit,” you say, turning your head sideways to follow the Piza-like leaning of the toppings. “What IS that?”
The answer, my dear, is DEFINITELY not pizza. We shall, in fact, ITEMIZE the ways in which this particular pizzoid object has disappointed me.
1) Veggie pizza is simple, right? Crust, veggies, cheese, and sauce. I ask you where in this equation–WHERE, dammit–is the nameless brown sludge located on the top of VitaPizza. Nowhere in the ingredient list did I find ‘semiliquid shit on a shingle’. Nor ‘sinus infection rhinoceros snot’. Nor–and this was my last hope– ‘Taco Tuesday afterwards, on Thursday.’
Instead, there is a frightening claim to ‘meatless pepperoni’. “Oh,” you say, understanding in one phrase what it took me a taste to assimilate. “So, basically, the contents of Hitler’s chamberpot.”
2) The ‘crust’. I see you, cardboard. You aren’t fooling me.
3) See those three black dots, located roughly at the VitaPissoff epicentre? Those are the mushrooms. I repeat: THOSE. ARE MUSHROOMS.
And you though mushrooms were roughly hemispherical in shape. Pffft. Did you also think they tasted like something? Silly rabbit.
I honestly would have rather mixed ground glass and sawdust up with a shot of Everclear. At least then I would’ve been drinking. However, the image of bright and cheerful veggie pizza (along, yes, with the promise of ‘only 220 calories!’) on the box swayed me. I don’t have high expectations of microwave pizza–this ain’t my first rodeo–but this failed to meet even my ‘something I can gnaw on to keep from starving’ standards.
Dammit, Vitalicious. Your VitaTops are all right. Those I can get behind. This mess…this…Faustian deal with the devil. I’ll only be getting behind it if I have a loaded shotgun and I can pass it off as self defense.