Oreo (Pizza) Pie – you are just too much.

So there was a big hoe-down at the office the other day and Wilerkerson was swell enough to pull me out of the potato pit to let me slap some fancy fixens’ on the table for all to enjoy.

For the record – a potato pit is a big hole full of potatoes that I am dropped into every day with only a cheese sandwich and a peeler. My day is done when all of the potatoes are peeled and all of the peelings are disposed of properly . . . and when I can convince someone to drop the rope down into the pit – so that I can scurry home to ready myself for the next days haul of potatoes . . .

Anyway – since it was such a spectacular occasion – a pal and I opted to do the only logical thing in the world – and went about to the local (Domino’s) pizzeria to pick up a scrumptious pie. But not just any pie was bought – friends – no – indeed . . . we came back with the tasty cargo of two Oreo pies.

Yes – you read what you just read . . . two pizzas with questionable cardboard bottoms – some sort of marshmallow-type fluff (maybe) – a crushed up Oreo cookie layer that was brimming to the brim and then oodles of drizzles of sweet sweet white goo all over that. They were almost too pretty to eat.

But not pretty enough – the first “pizza” was gobbled up before I could even blink – mostly by the really intrepid – gung-ho people in the office . . . the ones that really grab the slightly frightening “will this hurt me if I eat it” types of people. The reaction that people have to the Oreo pizza seems like it could be a great experiment . . . an interesting social barometer for what exactly the limits that people are willing to go to with their snack time treats. I mean – an Oreo Blizzard (from Dairy Queen) – no problem . . . an Oreo pizza from Domino’s – a whole bunch more questionable – yeah – yeah – a whole bunch . . .

Alright then – back to peeling for me . . . but before I go . . . I have to let you know that I had one piece. It was crunchy – gooey – and had a very slight taste of being burnt to it (like it was in the oven a tiny bit too long). I barely – outside of the visual – got the feeling like I was eating a real Oreo – maybe more of a cousin of an Oreo – or something like that. The real kick in the chin was the swimmy too much sugar from one food item that overtook my brain after finishing my little piece of conundrum – but that was dealt with by confusing my body more – by just going full bore and shoveling even more sugar in as the night progressed . . . sugar of the dog that sweetened me . . .

All in all – I would say that everyone was (more or less) a winner – all the way around – the Oreo pizza – that is . . . ugh.