Thanks, Jenn! You are pretty rad yourself and you cut people with your ear ornaments of certain disaster.
But you have also bestowed upon me the most monumental of compliments, for you are correct: I am walking sentient pizza. There are no vegetable toppings on me, I am instead made of smaller, fractal pizzas. My body is lubricated with thick, sludge-like porter, darker than the darkest abyss! I put the Internet in the Cobra-Clutch and it immediately taps out, crying out for mercy, of which I have none! I have come to your planet to do two things: give no fucks and chew bubblegum AND I’M ALL OUT OF BIG LEAGUE CHEW.
So to all my fellow pizzasexuals: Pizza Party ‘12 until the Apocalypse. It’s the way the Mayans would have wanted it.