Big Lou's Pizza

Dear reader, tonight we have feasted. We have gorged. We have stuffed face. We have committed the Cardinal Sin of Gluttony. We have used the Holy Pizza for the purpose for which it was designed: Transporting as much cheese and meat into our breadholes as humanly possible. Fat was dripping from the humongous slices and covered the table, the napkins and pretty soon the floor. Stuff that wasn't sufficiently tucked in under the thick slab of surface cheese fell off; I saw whole cows and several chickens in there and rows of olives, jalapenos and peppers.

We tried our best, but we had to leave one slice behind. Still, it was two absolutely stuffed Norwegians who waddled out into the dark, warm Texas night and drove back to our motel to soothe our aching bellies as best we could.

This unseemly display of food porn took place at a place called Big Lou's Pizza. They have pizzas that are up to 42 inches in diameter, but we settled for a 14 inch one, with all the toppings. It came in at the ridiculously low price of $24.32 plus tip. In addition we got a basket of chicken wings for free, since the waiter first brought us the wrong order (I think it was the chicken wings that saved that last slice of pizza).

Wednesday, we'll drive on to Austin and Houston and Thursday we're gonna stuff face again at a friend's house for Thanksgiving. Lord, have mercy on my soul - and more importantly, my poor stomach.

Astrid, caught in the mortal sin of gluttony. As if either of us could give a flying fuck.


Our beast of a pizza.


The 42-incher. Come to daddy!


Big Lou's. Go there. Eat. Be merry. You can thank me later (or at least mention me in your obituary when you have a heart attack).


Some cool decor.