I don’t really have a lot of reasons to go to West Bend; pretty much only the only time I’m ever there is to visit two friends that happen to live there. Recently said friends recommended the Doctors of Za try some of West Bend’s finest pizza: Tomaso’s. It doesn’t really look like much from the outside; and the inside feels a bit more like a northwoods sports bar than a pizza parlor. But in all honesty, as long as there’s good pizza, I’d go to pretty much any shithole.
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Archive for January, 2010
A Sign on the Door Says "You Can't Afford This"
If you know me, and you totally probably don’t, you know that I’m not exactly the type of bro who likes fine dining. To be quite honest, the best meals of my life were eaten at a shitty coffee table while I was dressed in sweatpants with a hole in the crotch and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt that fit better when my man-boobs were two cup sizes smaller. When I go to any restaurant where fried food isn’t the predominant foodstuff and Hall and Oates isn’t featured on the in-house stereo, I stick out like a white guy in a N.W.A. band photo.
To be honest, I never would have tried Nick-N-Willy’s Pizza if I didn’t have a friend who worked there. Prior to his employment there, I probably drove past the mini-mall pizza partition on Appleton’s Calumet Street some 50 times, never aware or caring enough to investigate who these “Nick” -N- (a cool way of writing and pronouncing the word “and”) “Willy” characters were.
“Some assholes, probably,” I’d speculate while en route to Kohl’s or some better pizza place.
But while back in Appleton last week, I decided to pay a visit — my second in the past eight months — to both my buddy, and to Nick-N-Willy’s Pizza.
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Is Pokey giving Gumby a handy? I'd bet so.
Like the green rubbered fellow that gives the place its namesake, Gumby’s Pizza in Madison has seen better days. Which is basically like a nice way of saying it’s a shitpile, but still; when I went there recently, they had just been raided by the local Pepsi distributor who took all of their Pepsi back due to delinquent bills. The dude working there said it was because corporate didn’t pay a bill (it apparently had nothing to do with him), which is pretty gnarly to think about, since Pepsi apparently has collection people who will come and yank out soda fountains at the drop of a hat. Plus they didn’t actually have pans to serve the pizza on, so we ate ours right out of the box. They did have paper plates at least. But even the fucking stone Gumby they have in there is torn the hell up. Seriously, he looks less put together than Lil Wayne. Read more »
Now 50 percent more similar.
So seldom is the world impacted by a truly great change — things like democracy, women’s suffrage, and the Slap Chop.
More often, a minimal and altogether futile change is brought about, and no real impact is brought to our planet nor anyone residing on it. This is evidenced by an unattractive woman getting highlights put in her hair, a guy going to the gym once a month, and — most recently — Domino’s Pizza COMPLETELY RE-INVENTING ITSELF!
I’ve been fortunate enough to basically live down the street from Zaffiro’s Pizza my entire time in Milwaukee. The East Side is full of pizza places, and they all stand out in their own way. And for the most part, the pizza is what is going to be bringing you back to Zaffiro’s.
Right when you walk in, you’ll notice that the place is pretty small. The bar along the left is usually full, as is the dining room in the back. The red and white checkerboard tables are extremely close together, so don’t be expecting a quiet, romantic dinner with your sweetie. If you come in on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night, expect to wait almost a half hour for a table. It’s worth the wait, trust me.
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1800 E. North Avenue
Milwaukee, WI 53202
http://www.pizzaman.org/
Sometimes it takes a tragedy to realize that you’ve neglected one of the best pizza restaurants in Wisconsin. Pizza Man burned down Monday night/Tuesday morning (01/19/10). I was drinking at the bar next door, Cush, mere hours before the fire started and thinking about how I haven’t been to Pizza Man in nearly 5 years. When I woke up to the news that it had burned I was devastated.
Pizza Man’s thin crust was so delicious that it brought a clientele to the east side that would normally hide their children in Brookfield until they were 18. It was typical to see a family strolling out of Pizza Man late on a Friday night (a neighborhood dedicated to binge drinking in it’s highest form). Not only was the pizza fantastic but the interior was amazing. Set like an old brick cellar with a huge wooden bar when you walk in, Pizza Man was a sight to be seen. It also had a outdoor seating area covered by trees and an ambiance that brought back memories of New York City.
I haven’t eaten there in a while and therefore cannot offer a fresh review but I will give you tales of it’s greatness through fond memories some of my friends have as well as my own.
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Phallic symbol extreme!
What does it take to go viral? Easy answer is a communicable disease like HIV or HPV. But what if you’re not talking about spreading an infection of the body? Instead you’re talking about spreading an infection of the collective conscious. Well, the criteria for successfully globalizing your message is most easily ascertained from the latest stupid bullshit that everyone is blabbing about around the water cooler: “Pants on the Ground,” by “General” Larry Platt, the latest in a long line of mentally handicapped people exploited made famous by American Idol.
Pizza, check. Baby, check.
Let’s call it quits people. Enough with the resolutions already. We are not even a full month into a new year, and almost everyone I know has failed miserably. Just look at my co-worker, Judy. She said she would lose at least 50 pounds to put her diabetes in check. January is almost over and she’s lost like a pound. I bet most of it was from that mole she got removed. It was huge. God, bless her for trying.
I’ll get right to the lead mozza-followers… This year I can’t fail. I know. I know, resolving to do something is my biggest weakness.
There were years past where I choked on my resolution like most women do on my manhood. Sorry, it is a simple truth. Let me drop another truth bomb on you. I’ve broken every resolution since I made the first one in 1996. I promised I would stop killing my Tamagchi for the fun of it. It’s not like I was worried about developing a weird desire to kill, but I am white, male, and sweat when sitting down. In the eyes of the world I am pretty much a serial killer. I had to drop any and all signs of becoming a mass murder. My sobriety from starving my pixelated pal lasted all but a week. Then, I let the good times roll until I got my first dial up internet connection and some therapy. Since the “Summer of Samagachi,” as my mom called it, I have broken every resolution. But let’s face the facts, “Honky Tonk Ba-Donk-A-Donk” is nearly impossible to not dance to (I hate to deprive the world of these moves — Kazaam, I’m like jumpin’ jack flash!)
I could say Polito’s Pizza brings back memories of my college days, but I’d be lying. In fact, the UW-Oshkosh campus-adjacent pizzeria doesn’t bring back any recollections of my brash collegiate youth — the rampant public urination, the form tackling of classmates in church yards, first love, the shoddy promise of a slightly less dim future through sub-standard academia, headbutting a TouchTunes jukebox at Distillery Pub — because Polito’s didn’t open until nearly six months after I graduated.
Rather, the year-old by-the-slice hot spot brings back memories of what was probably the worst period of my life. I was working second shift (including weekends) in the one city I swore to myself I wouldn’t stay following graduation. My commute had me driving over an hour daily, and past my college dorm room and three apartments I inhabited while pursuing my Bachelor’s Degree — dreaming of more. I gained weight; I looked in the mirror every day a was embarrassed of the person I saw, which – in turn – found me inflicting irreparable damage to my (former) relationship, my friendships and my career path because I couldn’t even keep myself happy.
Still, the recent Stevens Point transplant that was Polito’s Pizza in Oshkosh was good enough to at least dull the pains of looking out at South Scott Hall through their window and thinking to myself “How did I get here?” on my lunch break. It was a palatable piece of an otherwise unsavoury experience… like Heather Graham getting naked in a movie in which she must also act.
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