The importance of a good font.


We’ve already established that I suffer pretty severe food anxiety. (Remember the burrito dilemma of 2013?)

Living in rural NSW small town Mudgee does not help my case one single bit. Lately I’ve been craving pizza. There are a few good spots in this little town, but you know once you’ve had an amazing meal at a particular restaurant that you just HAVE to have that exact meal again? Yeah, I’m experiencing that with this restaurant called Church Bar that happens to be located an hour and a half’s drive away in another small town, Bathurst. It serves AMAZING pizza.

I admit that I’m a bit of a pizza snob. It’s just that it’s arguably the best food because it is fantastic cold, warm or hot at anytime of the day or night. (Try eating warm sushi at 3am… It’s just wrong.)

The hubby, Paul, and I had a great excuse to pop over to Bathurst for some Church Bar Pizza. His cousin and my best friend live there! Obviously pizza was the first thing on our list of things to do when we got there (2. Was find a movie theater because Mudgee doesn’t have one of those either…)

The waitress came to our table and we all ordered. I was surprised when Paul strayed from his usual BBQ Chicken and ordered the HOT HOT HOT Volcano Chicken pizza. The waitress was like, “Whoa! Your husband is brave!”

I didn’t think much of it because the “HOT HOT HOT”‘ was written in Comic Sans font and I don’t take that font seriously.

I should have.

Paul could only take two tiny nibbles of this pizza before he broke out in a full on sweat. His face and chest went bright red and his eyes burned just from holding the slice near his face.

Now, even though I was pregnant and should have been more careful with my body I wanted to see if Paul was over reacting. I decided to lick the crust.

Sweet baby Jesus. It was as if Satan had farted in my mouth.

I ran to the bar and asked for water or morphine. Surprisingly the bartender gave me cucumber to numb the pain and it actually worked.

Paul and I both felt better when the wait staff told us that even some Indian dudes can’t handle that heat. (Since they’re basically raised on hot curries from birth, this fact did make us feel less defeated.)

When we got back to Paul’s cousin’s apartment I sat down on the couch for a bit. Before I knew it like 45 minutes had gone by. Where was Paul? I opened the bathroom in the hallway and saw him. He had stripped completely naked and was sitting on the toilet with sweat dripping everywhere. He might have even been crying.

ATTENTION ALL RESTAURANT OWNERS: If you’re going to make an menu item that is seriously the hottest thing in the world YOU MUST USE A SERIOUS FONT LIKE TIMES NEW ROMAN. Nobody respects Comic Sans! Paul’s butthole is begging you. Things shouldn’t burn just as badly on the way out as they did on the way in.

I Shot the Serif Image from here.

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