"Where do you think our waitress thinks we're from?"
When it comes to our experience at Socca, we should have quit while we were ahead.
|Although, Come to Think of It, We Were Never Quite "Ahead" to Begin With|
|Jet Lag's Greatest Cure|
|At This Point, We're Pretty Much Incapable of Doing Anything At All|
|Inconsistent Menu Matching, Much?|
|Alice in Wonderland-Sized Toppings|
|Well, In Our Case, "Easy" Is Relative|
|Vodka Needs to Start Carrying This Shaker In Her Purse At All Times|
|Hey Sun -- The Pizzette Is Hot Enough, But Thanks for the Effort|
|Never Come Between Us and Our Beloved Cheese|
|Bad Move Bears|
|"Concoction" Is the Perfect Word, As It Looks Like an Experiment in "Mess"|
For this reason, the moment our waitress (who we have thus far enjoyed) returns, Ginger confronts her with two questions:
1. Who is that awful guy that just reprimanded our moods?
2. Where do you think we're from?
The answer to her first question is "my boss"; the answer to her second question is "Indiana? Milwaukee?"
Not, as we had predicted, "Crazytown."
|Is Our Current Level of Scowling Giving You NO Indication as to Our Origins?!|
|Though This Monstrosity Should Cost About a Buck, Since We Can Whip Up Our Own PB&J at Home|
Socca's Shrimp and Heirloom Tomato Pizzette: 3 stars