It's a tiny place called "Pizza Guy." Never again do I want to eat soggy pizza there, with a TV blaring "WWE Diva Bull Riding Contest" above me.
Whenever I see stuff like that, I think "how does this even pass as entertainment? Surely nobody really watches this crap." The fat, mustachioed employees of Pizza Guy proved me wrong; they were hooping hysterically at the entire thing.
Nothing was more uncomfortable than when they'd look to me for some sort of concord, as if to ask "isn't it great that you're loving this as much as we are?" I could only feign some chuckles and die a little inside, silently.