There are two ways to win over Angelo Giomatas. Tell him a dirty joke he hasn’t heard or beat him in a game of cards. Let me rephrase that. There are zero ways to win over Angelo Giamatas. He cheats at cards and he’s heard every joke. But people still try and that’s because they’ve tasted Angelo’s Pizza sauce.
Angelo’s pizza sauce is the best in the country. There are competition ribbons to prove it. Kids on the street will tell you how it’s better than taking the plastic off of a new toy. Women will tell you that it is better than sex, especially women
There are two ways to win over Angelo Giomatas. Tell him a dirty joke he hasn’t heard or beat him in a game of cards. Let me rephrase that. There are zero ways to win over Angelo Giamatas. He cheats at cards and he’s heard every joke. But people still try and that’s because they’ve tasted Angelo’s Pizza sauce.
Angelo’s pizza sauce is the best in the country. There are competition ribbons to prove it. Kids on the street will tell you how it’s better than taking the plastic off of a new toy. Women will tell you that it is better than sex, especially women
who have slept with Angelo. Old Italian ladies will swear that it cures bruises and soreness. Angelo’s Pizza sauce tastes delicious with pasta, inspired on toast, magnificent when pretzels are dipped into it, and divinely right on pizza. The rest of the pizza isn’t even that great, but no one notices.
Angelo's pizzeria was decidedly not modern. Each day the restaurant looked as if a grease tornado had spontaneously generated and ravaged the restaurant earlier in the morning, leaving pizza grease and other assorted stains in unexplainable locations. Some days grease appeared on the jukebox, other days sauce could be found on the ceiling, or the occasional pepperoni would be discovered underneath the temporary tattoo machine. Restaurant inspectors were like cockroaches to Angelo, except cockroaches were more welcomed.
What Angelo lacked in cleanliness or fancy decor, he made up for in reputation.
Angelo never relied on billboards or fliers stuck underneath the doorway of buildings and college dormitories. He didn't need to; the story of Angelo is as legendary as his pizza sauce.
Locals are seemingly born with knowledge of the lore of Angelo. Those same locals on the street who tell you how great his sauce is will probably also tell you about the great lengths he goes to keep its recipe secret. Some will tell you that all his employees are hired for their ability to retain composure under torture if such a situation occurred.
Others know better. They know that Angelo would never trust his employees with the recipes in the first place. They might be enterprising two-timers. They would tell you how Angelo doesn't even make his sauce at the restaurant. He makes it at home when no one is around.
Angelo’s pizza sauce is the best in the country. There are competition ribbons to prove it. Kids on the street will tell you how it’s better than taking the plastic off of a new toy. Women will tell you that it is better than sex, especially women
There are two ways to win over Angelo Giomatas. Tell him a dirty joke he hasn’t heard or beat him in a game of cards. Let me rephrase that. There are zero ways to win over Angelo Giamatas. He cheats at cards and he’s heard every joke. But people still try and that’s because they’ve tasted Angelo’s Pizza sauce.
Angelo’s pizza sauce is the best in the country. There are competition ribbons to prove it. Kids on the street will tell you how it’s better than taking the plastic off of a new toy. Women will tell you that it is better than sex, especially women
who have slept with Angelo. Old Italian ladies will swear that it cures bruises and soreness. Angelo’s Pizza sauce tastes delicious with pasta, inspired on toast, magnificent when pretzels are dipped into it, and divinely right on pizza. The rest of the pizza isn’t even that great, but no one notices.
Angelo's pizzeria was decidedly not modern. Each day the restaurant looked as if a grease tornado had spontaneously generated and ravaged the restaurant earlier in the morning, leaving pizza grease and other assorted stains in unexplainable locations. Some days grease appeared on the jukebox, other days sauce could be found on the ceiling, or the occasional pepperoni would be discovered underneath the temporary tattoo machine. Restaurant inspectors were like cockroaches to Angelo, except cockroaches were more welcomed.
What Angelo lacked in cleanliness or fancy decor, he made up for in reputation.
Angelo never relied on billboards or fliers stuck underneath the doorway of buildings and college dormitories. He didn't need to; the story of Angelo is as legendary as his pizza sauce.
Locals are seemingly born with knowledge of the lore of Angelo. Those same locals on the street who tell you how great his sauce is will probably also tell you about the great lengths he goes to keep its recipe secret. Some will tell you that all his employees are hired for their ability to retain composure under torture if such a situation occurred.
Others know better. They know that Angelo would never trust his employees with the recipes in the first place. They might be enterprising two-timers. They would tell you how Angelo doesn't even make his sauce at the restaurant. He makes it at home when no one is around.
