Michael's Pizza Bar and Grill

WOW! Great pizza.
Fantastic service! Ask for "Sweetpee"! Excellent beers and Za! Highly recommend.

I only gave this place 4 stars because the alcoholic beverages lacked.
Ordered some margaritas and they were the worst I’ve ever had.
However, everything else was great! Service was excellent, food was delicious.
They even gave us a cute little to go pizza box.

Like being on dog poo duty the three of us have to "man the office" while everyone else is nursing holiday hangovers at home like responsible members of society.
Phrases like, "what the F are we doing here?" keep being repeated at just above audible levels in a tone that monkeys might use right before they begin flinging new cologne at the zoo patrons.
As it so happens, flying poo is against all that I find holy and I resolved myself to do something about the mood in the office before things got worse.
Friday's are meant for adventures so I announced I would buy lunch, the mood lightened, and the deliberations about what to eat and where to order were begun with head and bottom scratching that suggested some heavy thoughts.
Some people will say free food tastes better but I think there is a particular flavor in the spirit of giving that when added to food makes it amazing and it goes exceptionally well on pizza, which is what we eventually decided on.
The recommendation for Michael's was tossed out by someone, somebody said they would drive, so I called in an extra large.
Twenty years later, what Violet probably calls “The Willy Wonka Incident” hasn’t got anything on the way I am feeling now after only THREE pieces.
Being unable to move now affords me the time to think back about this adventure and I still don't see how it I could have been taken so unaware.
For instance, even as we had joked about the smallish size of the "extra large" pizza, the heaviness of the box should have warned me of the pizza's girth which proves the number of inches isn't everything.
I am unable to get up to make coffee so I sit here, trying not to pass out into a post lunch coma, repeating the prayer "I shouldn’t have had that last piece" as I think about when I asked them to add the envy of all our coworkers to the pizza.
Envy isn't usually so filling unless they splashed it on in amounts similar to the other toppings and through the haze of trauma and the meat sweats hangover I think about the other toppings.
They had been piled on like a serial swine killer attempting to vigorously get rid of the evidence of a ham-massacre before the hamicide detective comes knocking on his door.
I am forced to conclude the envy of all our coworkers must be why I am so full.
It was so narfing good.