Did you need more proof?

Did you really need more proof that I'm crazy? My husband doesn't but this isn't proof that I'm crazy, it's proof that I'm not.

You see, Little Caesars has been putting up a new location on a road we drive on almost daily. Most of the time when we pass it the "pizza, pizza" comment is said by someone (I think James was even in the car the last time this happened, so mom, he needs to see I'm not crazy too) and I break out into song thanks to this commercial that no one but me (at least in my circle) seems to remember:



What's sadder to me is that we had the pizza the other day and I was horrible disappointed because it isn't anything like I wanted. I miss the two square pizzas on the big piece of cardboard wrapped in paper with traditional crazy bread. But that's a discussion for another time.