Classic Beef Lasagna
9 lasagna noodles
2 1/2 cups ricotta cheese
a deep-rooted fear of disappointing people
1/2 pound lean ground beef
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 1/2 cups mozzarella cheese, shredded
your confidence and the belief that you were meant for something special, shredded
2 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 1/2 teaspoons dried basil
1 telephone that hasn't rung in a while
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
2 eggs beaten, including shell because you can't crack an egg for shit
2 teaspoons white sugar
salt & pepper to taste
1 bottle of Jack Daniels (to be drank throughout)
Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add lasagna noodles and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, or until you can't stand the deadening silence of your own company.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Think about how you never really understood how to convert between Fahrenheit and Celsius, and how you really should have applied yourself more in school.
To make filling, combine in a bowl: ricotta cheese, mozzarella, parmesan, eggs and a trio of sweat, snot and tears as you openly weep while you stir.
To make sauce, brown the ground beef in a skillet until cooked through. Although to be honest, you can't be sure if it's cooked through because you don't really have any inherent cooking skills, which is why you need to follow recipes to begin with.
Drain grease; just throw it somewhere, who cares.
Combine browned ground beef, oregano, basil, garlic powder, sugar, salt, pepper and tomato sauce in skillet. Heat through and stir. Be sure to spill sauce over the sides as you mutter to yourself, I’m useless.
Some young people are being too loud outside your apartment building—walk over to the window and glare at them, hiding behind your curtain but hoping they see you and stop. Think about how selfish they are, not being aware of the noise they're making, or the effect they have on other people, for 2 to 3 minutes. Then have those angry feelings morph into negativity about yourself, about how you don't even know how to process joy anymore, and how you've lost a lot of friends recently, and how a lot of your exes have similar ideas about how you handled your relationships poorly, to the point where a pattern seems to be forming so it can't just be them, and they're all probably out having fun together just like these young people outside your window, for 3 to 4 minutes. Then go deep and think about how everyone involved in this scenario will be dead in seventy years anyway, so what's the point of being so angry? Life is hard and scary and wonderful people die every second and you know what, let these stupid young people have their fucking fun. Let them squeeze out whatever tiny inkling of pleasure they can in the horrible, meaningless abyss that is waking up each morning and being alive, for 5-7 minutes, or until emotionally tender.
In a 9x13-inch pan, alternate layers of cooked lasagna noodles, sauce, and filling, making three layers total. If desired, top with more mozzarella cheese, although there's probably none left because you used it all for the filling and you've never been good at planning ahead. Bake for 40 minutes.
Let lasagna stand 10 minutes before cutting, or just rip into it like a Walking Dead zombie because fuck it, it's not like there's anyone here to impress.
TIP: Aluminum foil can be used to cook food evenly, keep food moist, make clean-up easier, and to put over your face for blocking out the light of the sun.
PREP: A lifetime of envy and self-doubt, plus 20 m
COOK: 40 m, but expect to get tuckered out from all the crying, and to take a quick cat nap on the toilet, then abruptly wake up when you start to smell smoke because the lasagna's been cooking for well over an hour, and you burnt it because of course you did, you can't do anything right, why did you expect to start now? Throw it out, go to the grocery store, put all the ingredients on your credit card whose limit you’ve reached, and restart the process from the top.