Just so you all know, I am the pasta-making king.
And I don’t say that lightly.
I rock at making pasta.
I’m good at making pasta.
I make the best fresh spaghetti. The best fresh ravioli. The best linguini. The best lasagna.
My pasta dough is divine. It’s just the right texture. Just the right moistness. Just the right taste.
When you walk into my kitchen, you will instantly be hit with aromas of fresh dough and succulent pasta sauces. Your mouth will water as you desperately wonder what I am cooking and your mouth urgently craves its first bite.
If we happen to be dating, it is all over for you when you walk in. You are done. You will be in love with me. That’s how amazing my pasta is.
If you’re a friend, expect to cancel any plans you had for later so that you can sit around and wait to get hungry for fourths.
If you’re someone in my family, you will beg me to take over Sunday dinners.
If you’re the mailman, why are you in my house?
Why is everyone inside my house?!
Oh, that’s right. The pasta.
The pasta is why everyone is in my house.
Yes, the pasta.
[Dan, wake up!]
Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just dreaming.
Dreaming of how awesome my life will be once I actually use this damned thing…
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