Death of a lazagna

Do you know that feeling of extreme hunger you get after a long night out when you probably walked to and from places more than you were actually there? Last night we walked to this dude’s apt for a shindig and it was quite a trek. After we got back, Tyler suggests that we make this Stouffer’s lazagna and of course we all say eff yeah. Then he has to break the news to us that it takes 56 mins to cook. Are you fucking with me Stouffer? You’re a lunatic if you think that’s a reasonable cooking time for some lazagna that’s that shitty (okay it was actually really good). I definitely experience the word ‘eternity’ in the 56 mins we waited for that lazagna. When it’s finally ready, Ty grabs it out of the oven and carries it over on the oven pan that we cooked it on. In what seemed like an instant, the lazagna slides off the baking sheet only to land upside down on Andrew and the table. What did we do wrong to be punished like this? Especially Andrew because molten tomato sauce fell onto his arm and I think there might be a giant burn scar there now and forever. I’m not exaggerating when I estimate that sauce to be anywhere from 1 million to 1 billion degrees centigrade. Converted to Fahrenheit that’s not even a number I don’t think. Tyler managed to scrape some of it off the table and onto a plate and we ate it and it was damn good. The whole thing was an emotional roller coaster and I really don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from losing all the lazagna we did.

spiraling downward,



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