Oh! The modern man - it’s as easy as combining every single loser flavour you can find onto one gigantic obnoxious square plate. The carrots, oh my god, those sliced carrots look ridiculous - even a few steamed baby carrots could have potentially been fine (if not, an honest anatomical metaphor) had it not been for all that fucking cheese sauce. You do realise cheese sauce is nothing to be proud of? A general rule of thumb: the more cheese you have to put on top of your dinner, the more you have fucked it up. Cheese in any form as a topping is the genitals of the food world and if you have to spread that shit liberally three times a day to cut it, well, you’re a kitchen prostitute - satisfying only the most barbaric palates and gaping mouths of your insatiable clientele.
These fucking Milhouse-men who think they’re breaking the shackles of traditional gender cooking roles - holy shit - always the ones who can’t fucking cook. They’re the same kind of people who have this twisted sense of chivalry; they feel the need to apologise on behalf of the females at the table when you say “cunt” or “fuck” during dinner. Hey fuckwit - no-one is falling for your lady’s man bullshit. Girls [generally] like it when you say cunt because it shows you’re not some fucking nancy boy who thinks they’re hot shit with their moronic concepts of feminism or manners taken straight from a how-to pick up lift-out from a Zoo magazine. I like the word cunt, it’s delightful, but I don’t like you, no, and your rapist’s ejaculation drizzle of cheese sauce can eat shit and die.