I took a shower with Simon and Garfunkel last night.

It was Friday evening. I hadn’t washed my hair. And I wanted chocolate.

So I stripped off my work clothes, put on “Mrs. Robinson,” and stepped into a hot shower.

I shampooed my hair as I sang along… “put it in your pantry with your cupcakes…”

Oh, cupcakes.

And here’s to you Mrs. Robinson…

Now let’s talk dinner. And chocolate.

I walked into the kitchen and saw my reflection in the window. When I was little I thought I looked like a raccoon.

Sometimes I still do.

I’m cool with that.

I stood barefoot in front of the fridge and felt a little frisky. You know what I do when I feel frisky? Sing Elton John make pizza.


Let’s get intimate with some pizza dough, shall we?

When I knead pizza dough with my hands I’m no longer Jamie. I’m a round-bellied man named “Armando” with a generous amount of mustache who guzzles cheap wine and chuckles at his own jokes while making pizza pies all day.

I swear I hadn’t had a drop of wine when the photo above was taken.

A few spoonfuls of tomato sauce, a fistful of mozzarella, sprinkles of diced onion and a few leaves spinach later and into the oven went my beloved ball of dough. 

I roasted some asparagus and sweet potatoes as a side. Served with an adulterous amount of ketchup.

You see Copper the dog in the background? He watches me takes pictures of my food and lick ketchup off my fingers. And never judges me for it. Good dog.

Thirty minutes later I pulled this voluptuous beauty out of the oven…

And I proceeded to knowingly consume about 3 lbs. of pizza pie. That’s how “Armando” likes to spend his Friday nights.

Because when you eat home-made pizza that tastes like pure sin sprinkled with Parmesan, you can’t help but feel that…

“Jesus loves you more than you will know, (wo, wo, wo).”

Thank you Mr. Simon and Mr. Garfunkel. And God Bless you. Mrs. Robinson.

And you too, ‘Armando.’