Hiya pizzafaces. My name is Alaina Dente - call me Al - and I'm a pizzathusiast and an international playgirl. For the next sixty years, I will be trying to live in every major city in the world, taking deep samples of their pizza interpretations and their male populations aged 18 - 35. I'll be letting you in on the warmest, softest, sauciest secrets as my doughy behind uncovers them. So sit back, unbuckle, and get ready to eat your [enter organ here] out.
Because there is no Italian population in Los Angeles, there are only two pizzerias in Hollywood, which have the same name and are on the same street. Greco New York Pizza, and the other Greco New York Pizza, on Hollywood Boulevard, houses the wobbly after-party of Geisha House, Cinespace, and Ripley's Believe It Or Not! Museum. Back when I used to go clubbing [with my dad's girlfriend's NY State I.D.] I would up in GNYP before [with friends] or after [with the guy with a backpack who says he has coke but needs a place to do it]. For $1.50 you can get a two-plate-long slide of thin crust pizza that definitely resuscitates but otherwise tastes like w/e you sprinkle on it. As a way of encouraging patrons to leave GNYP as soon as their slice is gone, the eatery does not discriminate against schizophrenics coming in to scream and go through their garbage pails.