It was another busy week here at Eating Our Words, where we serve right-side-up pineapple cake just to be difficult. Let's get to it.

This week started off with Robb Walsh's quick visit to Pagoda, then got into some more serious business when Sarah Rufka went bravely on safari among the teenagers at the Teahouse. Next, J.C. Reid was denied a menu in the playground of carefree whimsy known as Community Bar, where the chef just cooks whatever the hell he wants. We recommend the chicken fried steak soup. (Sadly, there is no such thing. I know; for a second I even got my own hopes up.)

Here at the Houston Press, we have discovered three things that really ignite those comments sections: any article featuring a cute animal, any article which is even vaguely critical of Ron Paul and, of course, any article which dares to ask you: What is your favorite pizza place in Houston? At 142 comments and counting, we're fairly certain there will be peaceful, orderly elections in Iran before there is peace among the pizza soldiers warring over Katharine Shilcutt's article. We won't keep you in suspense: See who won the bitter battle of the pizzas here.

Mike Giglio skanked on over to the Reggae Hut and spent $13 there, eventually returning five hours later with a tie-dyed cravat around his neck and a new but somehow completely real foot-long beard festooned with dreadlocks, beads, and a button that simply said "Optimysticism : The Universe Is Magical and Good." Robb contributed to the public good by warning us all of the plague of cheap lobsters soon to be sweeping over the nation exactly the way swine flu didn't. Nikki Metzgar put on her cat burglar suit and stole Gigi chef Junnapen Hurpan's recipe for shu mai, and we would all really appreciate it if you guys didn't tell anybody.

Katharine helped answer the burning question: Japanese Wine, the New Frontier? We're guessing probably not, since Japanese wine is generally at least 70 percent whale blood. Nikki then chimed in with a bunch of cold, summery alcoholic drinks she made up. Seriously, she expected us to believe "White Sangria" is real? And that it goes best with something called "boat shoes"?

Mike Giglio managed to get his ass absolutely handed to him by the barbecue at Austin's Salt Lick. Yes, he is still moaning as I type this. According to W. Healy, there is a place called Mugsy's that serves Juice Boxes, and we suggest you get directions from Roger Rabbit, because it is obviously in Toontown, where people are still named "Mugsy." To put a stop to all this silliness, Katharine bummed us all out with a story about some dead dogs. Thanks, Katharine! Our souls hurt just fine, now! By way of apology, she set the Mood-O-Meter back to "wacky" with her chronicling of the adventures of the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile. Whatever you do, don't think of the "I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener" song right now. Agh! You just did it, didn't you?!

Robb managed to unearth another fine barbecue stand in another tiny Texas town, as he is wont to do. But that's not all: After J.C.'s appetizing visit to the 3-6-9 Oriental Bistro, Robb threw some blackberry cobbler at us, which we gratefully caught in our face-holes. Oh, cobbler. You alone have never betrayed us.

Need to impress a dinner date, and yet you've gone and spent all day getting baked, playing Xbox 360 and munching Funyuns? Have no fear: With some simple modifications to ordinary fast food, you too can cook like the world's swankiest pothead. Katharine, meanwhile, got back on her morbid kick with an article about food-related deaths so unusual, they read like a Willy Wonka sequel produced by the guys who brought us the Saw films. Are you okay, Katharine? We're getting a little worried about you.

Your discussion question this week: How come nobody ever participates in the discussion questions? Choke on that, and we'll see you next week.