My years of living in Hawaii taught me to dislike spam, fish, and pineapple on pizza. Don't get me wrong, I'll eat it (heck, I'll eat anything)(do you realize my little small town paper will print some words these guys won't ... like aitch-eee-double-hockey-sticks and the alternative word for gender? It's great, though, because it stretches your vocabulary!).
I really thought, since most of you are pet lovers, you'd like this one: Once upon a time, many years ago, when we lived in Hawaii, we actually got a bad pizza. And I'm not fussy. I have my preferences, but there is almost no such thing as a bad pizza. This one was truly terrible. We had (have) what was then called a Geisha table; in effect, a Japanese dining room table, that we use for a coffee table. Back then we actually ate on it (hubby and I can still sit on the floor and get up, but many of our freinds cannot, so we don't dine on it very often). At the time we had a cat and a new puppy. The puppy couldn't get anywhere without help -- heck, three horizontal feet wore her out enough for a nap. Hubby and I wound up drinking a bottle of wine and eating almost none of the pizza and going upstairs to bed, leaving the pizza on the table. When we awoke and went downstairs we just about fell over laughing.
The cat didn't just satisfy herself jumping up on the table and eating the pizza, she threw it on the floor so the puppy could share it. They were both lying around, burping and farting, with distended bellies.
Now, when my ancient dog whines for food, I try to remember how entertaining she was when she was a pup.