I don't know who decided to shove taco meat inside giant pasta shells, but whoever you are, I hope your pillow is always cold and you never step in something wet while wearing socks.

While I am no longer dating Steve, I will give credit where credit is due: the man did leave me with one useful thing besides emotional damage and questionable financial decisions—his version of Tater Tot Casserole. Now, is it actually his recipe? Absolutely fucking not. I’m sure he stole it from somebody’s mother, aunt, ex-girlfriend, cookbook, or the back of a Campbell’s soup can and then claimed it as his own. But custody of the casserole was awarded to ME in the breakup,