This new pizza box makes a lazy habit seem 'green.' Cool!
Filed under: Entrepreneurship, Extracurriculars, Food, Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Simplification, Technology
I'll beat you to the joke: It's such a perfect marriage of junk food and environmentalism, I'm surprised Al Gore didn't think of it first. Introducing a regular-looking pizza box with a special touch. The difference is that the box can come apart once it's delivered by your local pie dealer. While it starts out the size of a standard pizza box, customers can break the platter-size square into four plate-size sections using scoring and perforations.
Voila--a trashy dinner service for four, with no wasting water or soap on dishes after. I guess that sorta makes this box "green," as the manufacturer claims. If annual pizza consumption numbers in the billions, as some theorize (though of course, some must be served on plates in restaurants), sure, this could have some effect if everyone used it. Okay, maybe the "green" angle is a slight stretch, but it's also true that no trees died for the box, either. It's made from 100% recycled material, which presumably can be recycled again after supper. Every little bit helps, right?
I hadn't called my favorite pizza place in a while because I've been making my own (it's cheaper and I've been trying to eat mostly organic food). But I was going out for the night, leaving my husband alone with three boys, so I called Rudy's and ordered the best deal: the $9.99 medium pepperoni pizza.
On Thursday, if you've never ordered from PizzaHut.com, you'll have 24 hours to order three or more one-topping Pizza Mia pizzas at a 20% discount.
Papa John's, proud to be the first national pizza chain to offer online ordering, is now even more pleased with itself because it's the first with a widget. (it is also gloating about being the first to offer pizza ordering by text last November.) The widget, a little program that sits on another website, let you order your usual pizza with just a few clicks. Or order up to 21 days in advance. Or in Spanish.
Although I don't eat too much pizza these days, there was a time in my life when the ambrosial mix of flat crust, tomato sauce, and melted cheese was a staple in my diet. Looking through my mental scrapbook, it seems like almost every major event of my high school, college, and graduate years was accompanied by the smell of tomatoes and oregano and the delicious taste of mozzarella. From hook-ups to break-ups and all points in between, pizza was there to feed me and comfort me.
It's almost diabolically clever.