A true story for you:
Presently, my favorite pizza place of all time is located in Mankato, MN. I'm not going to tell you too much about the actual restaurant right now, because eventually I'm going to ride to it and review it. Also, I'm aware they have made some changes that have reduced my enthusiasm for the place. For example, they got rid of their totally awesome jukebox for a new one with all the popular crap frat-rock in it, and they stopped serving Grain Belt Premium beer in favor of BUD LIGHT.
Seriously, the beer change is unforgivable.
Anyways, this particular pizza parlor was more or less my favorite place in the whole world, except maybe for the tunnels under my dorm...
You don't need to know about that.
Ok, so once I was at this pizza place, and all my friends were there. I mean everybody. We've got three pizzas, cheese bread, several pitchers of Grain Belt Premium, and we've loaded the jukebox with 5 dollars worth of songs (a quarter a song, six for a buck). Everyone is feeling a little rowdy and we're having a boisterous, awesome time.
I stand up to tell everyone how glad I am that we were able to all get together, and that seriously, I'm having such an awesome time that I must be dreaming.
And then I woke up in St. Paul, MN. No shit. Needless to say, I was rather depressed.
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