Bring It Back!

Pizza Parties were the place I danced to LaBouche (I wanna get into motion a better devotion), kissed my first girl, puffed my first joint, chugged my first Smirnoff Iced and then mimicked my Spanish teacher having an orgasm on a crowded Subway car, red sauce staining the sides of my mouth. Pizza Parties in Two Boots Den of Cin I saw Empire Records and I Know What You Did Last Summer, fell in love, snapped a studded wrist band stolen from St. Mark's around my girlfriend's wrist to show we were forever, hated my artist dad for dressing in clothes he'd found in dumpsters when he came to pick me up too early. Pizza Parties were staples of celebration, children's food that crossed over into adulthood, changing as I grew. From Pepperoni to Andouille, extra cheese to more difficult life choices.

Pizza Parties. Bring it Back?

-Royal

Bring It Back!

Sex saturated, but naive twelve year-olds, my friends and I cybered. Not with each other. Seventh grade the next year ushered in wet dreams, phone sex, my shrink mom's birthday present to me What's Happening To My Body? Book for Boys. But before I gawked at female flesh, I giggled over HotGirl69 from a Christian Sex chatroom (half the hidden turn on: I was Jewish). My sixth grade Lower East Side crew would munch Two Boots pizza as we typed depravity. Our cybering was always funny first, I never let on I was secretly aroused. We cybered with women and men, at the end of steamy sex sessions always spilling secrets instead of semen. "i am actually old enuff 2 b ur lil bro lol" or "dude i don't hav pamela andersson size tits, u just fucked a 45 yrs old man" then signing off. We laughed off our cyber sessions as funny, harmless jokes, not exploring an adult world of intimacy we barely understood. At twenty three, part of me still prefers the anonymity of internet climaxes, if not the cheesy come ons.

Cyber Sex. Bring it back?

-Royal