It seems like there are infinite combinations when it comes to pizza. I'm not talking about what you have on the pizza, but with you have WITH it.
Take my friend Jean for instance. Her husband is a chef. When they have pizza it's an ordeal. First of all, her hubby MAKES the pizza from scratch. But before he does that, he first gets out his big soup pot. Yup, pizza night for them means homemade chicken soup comes first.
When I was growing up, pizzas were few and far between. The only place around us that made pizza was a little hole in the wall called Chicken Delight. (And as you might guess, the pizza wasn't very good--but what did we know--we hadn't had much to compare with--except for that rubber monstrosity they made at school with was 90% uncooked dough, 8% bad sauce, and 2% rubber cheese.)
As a kid there were three things to drink in the house: pop, Kool-Aide or milk. I got used to drinking milk with my pizza and still do to this day. A nice, Tall, FROSTY glass of (skim) milk.
Hubby says it makes him want to puke.
He, on the other hand, either has a beer or a glass of scotch (unless we're reheating it at lunchtime and then he drinks--ick--Gatorade).