Nothing says “Everything is going to be okay” like stacks of American cheese and Genoa salami greeting you at the door, an unparalleled transnational pairing of sodium and saturated fat. The unholy trinity of frozen pizzas (Giordano’s deep dish, Screamin’ Sicilian, an occasional DiGiorno’s stuffed crust), booze (Tisdale, make-your-own six packs filled with the highest ABV beers available, Amsterdam vodka when it’s on sale) and cigarettes never raises an eyebrow in this black hole of scrutiny. And when you’re finally ready to trade it all in for kombucha and condoms, your friendly cashier will give you a warm look as they ask, “debit or credit?”
