Mazzio's Pizza: A Storied Past

Many people are aware of the undenyable greatness of this American-Italian institution, however few know the true depths of its inspiration on U.S. history. Therefore, we will explore Mazzio's Pizza from its humble beginnings to its undisputed dominance in the 21st century.

Mazzio's is an Italian eatery located throughout the South and Midwest portions of the U.S. It was first founded in 1961, when a young school teacher named Ken Selby opened a restaurant named The Pizza Parlor in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In 1965, Selby opened a second location and changed the name to Ken's Pizza. By 1975, there were more than 100 franchise locations in and around Oklahoma.

In 1974 Barry Switzer, looking for a place to feed his hungry team, decided to take them to a Norman Mazzio's one friday afternoon before their first home game. The team performed so well he decided to make a ritual of it. That year they won the national championship...coincidence?

In 1997, Payton Manning ate at a Tennesse Mazzio's every Monday afternoon to help him focus and prepare for the week. That same year Ryan Leaf was dining at a Pizza Inn. Ryan Leaf now works at a Pizza Inn.

Bob Dylan wrote all his songs from 1975-on at various Mazzios'

Fred Savage was discovered at a Mazzio's while playing Pac-Man and enjoying his cheese pizza.

LeBron James was concieved in a Mazzio's bathroom in 1985.

Singer MeatLoaf's song "I would do anything for love" was origionally titled "I would do anything for Mazzio's" The following line "but I won't do that" origionally referred to him strangling a puppy. "Bat Out Of Hell" 's album title came from employee accounts of MeatLoaf entering Mazzio's. eg. "he came in like a bat out of hell and started shoving food in his face."

"Two Guy's a Girl and a Pizza Place" is not based on Mazzio's in any way form or fashion, with the exception that they try to be cool and Mazzio's is actually cool.

A young boy named Matt used to come to Mazzio's and doodle on the napkins while he enjoyed his pizza and soda. And who did Matt grow up to be? Matt Groening. Who is this? He created the Simpsons...der.

Macually Culkin did not eat at Mazzio's. And he is not respected as an actor because of it. Instead he is reduced to making movies like "Party Monster" with the likes of Seth Green and Wilmer Valderama.

George Orwell's "1984" is based on what society would be like without free market economy and the retardation of human emotion...two things Mazzio's strongly endorses and benifits.

America has Mazzio's, Mexico does not.

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are shown eating Mazzio's pizza in their first two feature films(boxoffice blockbusters). The third movie however was sponsored by Pizza Hut (monetary flop).

I need to get Mazzio's to sponsor this blog.

Guest Author: Lee Mitchell

This is a story I've heard from Lee a number of times. It's pertains to a childhood incident of his. I always laugh when I picture what happens to Jake. Anyway, Lee was kind enough to finally put this story into writing. Enjoy.

Matt Cunningham, Jake (brother), and I were trespassing in my neighbors barn. Little did we know that they were selling the property and a realtor with hopeful buyers drove up to the barn. We ran out the back and slipped into a horse trailer where we hoped to hide out until they were gone. Unfortunately, we were hiding in a very small cramped area that the sun was beating down on. It was unbelievably hot and there was cat poop scattered all over the floor. Suddenly, Matt picked up a piece of the cat poop and, with amazing accuracy, flung it directly into Jake's mouth. Jake instantly threw up all over the place. All three of us started screaming and flung open the trailer door and rolled out. Trespassing, soaked in sweat, and grossed out, we hauled ass as fast as we could. The adults were staring at us as we ran towards our property for our own lives.

The Infamous Blackout Story

I went out to a party last night. It was an OK time, it just made me feel real old. While I was standing by the keg, I was asked to tell this story to a group who hadn't heard it before. I thought to myself after I finished, and realized I hadn't posted this particular story yet. I will tell it from the point I woke up that Saturday morning at 2 o'clock p.m.

I woke up that morning with a particularly bad hangover. My room felt like a sauna, and I was automatically miserable. As I rolled over in an attempt to find my phone and see what time it was, I noticed I was naked. Upon further inspection, I found I was also dripping wet. Confused, but not very surprised, I find something to cover myself with and head to the bathroom to piss. I was gauging how dehydrated I was by looking at the color of my piss, when I noticed the bathtub was filled to the brim with a dirty looking water. I then realized I had no idea what had happened to me the night before and was going to have to do some detective work to find out.

I found my phone on the floor of the hallway. It was low on battery and had 7 new messages. I postponed listening to the messages until after I had a drink of water to combat the extreme cottonmouth I was presently dealing with. As I listened to the messages, I discovered they were all from the disgruntled residents of Gurley. Accusations flew in the messages. Things like, "You fucker, you left your puke shirt in the yard and there's puke all over the chair and Fretty sat in it," were a few of the choice phrases used. This was all news to me. I had no idea I had puked last night, although I couldn't ignore the fact that I couldn't find the shirt I had on last night.

Desperate for answers, I went outside to see if my truck was in the driveway. If it was not there, I would have a good answer to how I got home. The truck was there. I had driven myself home blacked-out. There were now three things clear. One, I had thrown-up in the big chair at Gurley. Two, I had shed my puke clothes on the way out and driven myself home. And three, once home, I had drawn a bath, sat in it, and puked again.

I then tried to piece together how I got so drunk in the first place. I thought back to every moment the previous day I could remember. I came up with three phases of my drunkenness
that explained how I got that torn up and ended up in this situation.

1) Grilling out at Gurley:

Fretty had just purchased a nice grill and had put it in the Gurley cabana. We all went the H-E-B to buy beer and meat to cook. I picked up a steak and a case (20) of bottled Coors Light. We went back to Gurley and commenced to drink, smoke, and eat. The cookout soon turned into a party and the beers were going quicker and quicker.

2) Gurley Party:

I had torn through about fifteen bottled Coors lights and was feeling pretty damn good. The party was in full swing and we were running low on cigarettes. About 1:20 a.m., Kurt decides he wants to make a trip up to Scruff's for last call. Me being out of beer sealed my place for that trip.

3) Scruff's:

We arrived at Scruff's about 1:30 a.m. and head to the bar to order our customary Ziegen Bocks. I heard somebody call my name from across the bar. I looked over and saw an old high school buddy of mine standing there looking as trashed as I was. We talked for about 2 seconds before he asked if I wanted a shot. I, of course, said "yes" and he ordered up 2 jager shots( if any of you wonder why I don't like Jager shots, this incident is why) We did a couple of toasts and threw back the Jager with authority. I felt my stomach start to turn and knew I would throw-up if I didn't handle this correctly. I took a step back from the bar, took a deep breath, and fought back the steak and veggie pack I'd consumed earlier in the evening. I had just finished fighting off the barf when High School Friend brings me over another Jager shot. Another Jager shot and a Ziegen bock were bought and drank before the bar closed and we had to leave.


The trip home was getting fuzzy and I was beginning to black out. When we arrived back at Gurley, I sat down in the big chair and passed out. This is where I begin my epic blackout adventure.

I felt terrible about puking all over the big chair. The only thing I could think to do to bury the hatchet was to bring them a peace offering. I went Bush's and bought a gallon of sweet tea and took it over there.

The chair is still in use today and there's a little bit of Shep that will always be there.

I Hate Kids

I don't like little whiney squalling slobbering bastard kids. I never have. I despise parents who try to please their kids in every way possible. buying them everything they possibly want and they're still squalling, or they're happy for two seconds until they see something else they want.

I don't stay in resturants where a squalling little turd is making everyone's meal a living hell. I walk away. I want to go over there and smack the shit out of the kid and the parent who is letting this happen.

When I was a kid, I got the shit kicked out of me, and I'm more functionial in society because of it. It is unacceptable to throw a fit in public. The parents don't deserve it for bringing this little shit into the world. But, if they're not going to correct their kid, maybe they do. I'm serious. Parents need to strike their kids, they won't resent you as long as you tell them why you're doing it. Now, if you tear the shit out of them in a drunken stupor they might resent you a little, but it will be minimal.

I will have some well-behaved ass kids.

Dad Tells A Story

I was riding in the truck this morning with my dad. We were moving a table from his office downtown to our location. As we were driving back and forth, I got to telling a couple funny things that had happened over the past few weeks. I was also telling him about the frio-trip bachelor party I will be attending and how much fun we'd had on the last river trip. Anyway, I told him about the gay guy incident at Wardlaw's ranch, he cracked up.

I'm fairly open with my dad about my drinking. He knows I go out and raise hell every now and again and get into some compromising situations, but he's pretty mellow about the whole thing. I'm pretty sure he and I are one in the same when it comes to past drinking escapades. We've swapped drinking stories before, but not our best ones, if you know what I mean.

After I finished my story about the gay guy, he began to tell me a story about when my uncle Dave had his bachelor party at my dad's house. My mom and dad had been married about a year when this took place, but Mom had graciously made herself scarce during the festivities. He told me he'd gone and picked up a keg about 2 in the afternoon and had been drinking on it all day. When the party started he was already pretty drunk. Around 11 or 12 he was pretty "toasty" and was ready to go to bed. At 1 or 2 my uncle's friends invite some girls over to the house to give uncle Dave a good send off. Both my uncles and their friends thought my dad should be awake for this, they went in his room and tried to mess with him in order to get him to come back and join the party. Dad waved them off and they went on drinking and partying. A little while later, someone decides to send one of the girls into the room to lay down next to dad in order to get an incriminating picture. She agreed and the picture was taken.

I thought fucking with somebody when they were asleep was a new thing... I guess it's not.

Lab Partner's "Party"

Lee, Fretty, and I were at Buffalo Wild Wings on Friday watching the basketball games and enjoying some wings. If you've never been to Buffalo Wild Wings you're selling yourself short. It's a paradise for men. Big beers, hot wings, multiple HD televisions, smoking section, and the trivia game, just to name a few of the accoutrement. Anyway, as I was digging into my wings I got a call from my mineralogy lab partner. It was difficult to understand everything she said, but I did hear "party" and "you're invited." I have never hung out with Lab Partner outside of class, other than to exchange notes, so I thought it rather odd that she would invite me to a party.

We left Wild Wings a little while later and I began to worry about this "party" I had been invited to. The details she left in a subsequent message revealed that she was "having some people over to play games." I assumed the "games" were going to be drinking games since it was Saturday night and surely no one gets together and plays board games on Saturday night.

The next day I became more and more worried. I debated making up an excuse and just not going, but realized I told her I was going to go and I always feel real guilty when I back out of things. Still holding out for drinking games, I called her and asked her if I could bring any drinks, with a heavy emphasis on drinks. She told me that I didn't need to bring anything but myself... I knew then that it was going to be a dry party with actual board games.

Kicking myself for agreeing to this, I headed over to Lab Partner's apartment at La Mirage. I pulled in and saw a family of sparkling wiggles sitting on their porch making a bunch of noise and running around. One little wiggle had another pinned down while the big mammy wiggle fanned herself with a newspaper and yelled at the two liggle wiggles. Another wiggle was looking at me and my truck. I looked at him and locked my truck, making sure he knew it was locked and I would end him if he stole anything from me. For those who don't know, my truck got broke into by some sparkling wiggles and I am tired of their shit.

I found my way to Lab Partner's apartment to be greeted by a small crowd of peole I have never seen before and hope to never see again. There was a gay guy who greeted me with an overly gay "HI! BEN!" There were three chinese guys, one wore a black cotton glove with no fingers in a shitty homage to the matrix... or something. One chinaman was so quiet I couldn't hear him, and the other was a pre-med major (surprise). The rest of the crowd included a guy with gray hair, a pair of homely twins named Joy and Grace, and Lab Partner. I smiled as I met everyone and tried to look happy, eventhough I was rapidly dying inside.

So there I was, at a lame-ass party by myself with all these strangers whose idea of a fun Saturday night activity was getting together and playing board games. Did I mention that I was the third "Ben" to show up? You can't fathom the shitty jokes that flew around... you just can't. I contemplated sprinting out of there and never turning around.

We played a game called "Loaded Question." The game consisted of someone rolling a dice and drawing a card with a question on it. The group then each answered the question on a piece of paper and the answers were read to the person who rolled the dice, who had to guess who they thought wrote that particular answer. It couldn't have been a worse choice. The questions were completely retarded. One question was, "if there was a dictionary term to define the person on your left, what would it be?" Oh fucking great. Well, let me think, I've never met this person in my entire life and I'm supposed to define them with a dictionary term...fuck you game, and fuck you Lab Partner for inviting me to this crapfest. I had nothing to say so I wrote "a twin," because I sat by one of the twins and that was the only defining characteristic I knew about.

About an hour into the game, I was ready to go. Luckily another wave of people showed up, along with another "Ben." So I decided this was a great time to get my ass out of there. As they were pulling out another game to play, I stood up and said, "I actually have to go...it was nice to meet all ya'll." I'm pretty sure they heard me peeling out of the parking lot.

After that debacle, I went to George's in an attempt to forget the past hour and a half and move on with my life.

Lab Partner is lamer than I thought.

An Open Letter To Surly Bartenders

Dear Assholes,

I am terribly sorry the other night about the events that transpired in your fine drinking establishment. I am sorry for being so rude as to order a drink from you and break you away from the important task you were trying to finish, namely the bar trivia game. I know now I should have waited until you were through and waited quietly by the bar for you to acknowledge me. And I should have tipped you because you are working so hard and your drink prices give me a couple extra bucks in my pocket that I can afford to do so. I seriously had no idea you didn't apply for this job but you were, in fact, forced to do it by a man with a gun. It must have been my mistake for ordering a Bud Light, I could have sworn I ordered a Coors Light since that is the only beer I ever drink. I can't apologize enough for ordering multiple drinks in one order. I had no idea it would piss you off, you rolling your eyes should have tipped me off. It will never happen again.

Apologetically,
Ben T. Shepperd

Poem: The Half-Eaten Burrito

Hispanic treat tightly wrapped in flour
You light my day from dim and dower

From the nights of intoxication
Gives awaking justification

Oh the beans, oh the cheese!
Makes me buckle at my knees

Now I add a little sauce
Dancing like Baryshnikov

Why did I only eat the half of you
When my night of drinking was through?

Did I pass out, did I bump my head
Why was I not fully fed?

It doesn't matter it's nearing noon
I'm eating like a starved baboon

Now pain my heart must undergo
I finished my half-eaten burrito.

No Sparkling Wiggles Read This Blog

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfilLgPB5Sk

I tried to post this video directly to the blog, but the new Google blogger format does not allow for it yet.

My favorite is "There's too many sparkling wiggles at this party"

I would refrain from watching this at work.

Rudius Media Not Impressed

About two months ago, I submitted some of my writings and stories to Rudius Media. Rudius is an Internet publisher of sorts. They take writers and bloggers with interesting content and give them websites in which they can reach a wider audience and make a little scratch on the side. They host the the quasi-famous tuckermax.com and my personal favorite tard-blog.com, along with others of interest.

I had submitted stories that I found to be the most entertaining, but apparently were not. In the submission section of the website, they claimed that a reply would follow in two to four weeks. It has now been six weeks and I guess they didn't see anything they liked.

I am taking this opportunity to poll readers of this blog (if there are any left) for their personal favorites which I will re-submit to Rudius and see if I can't get a response.