work is the sort of struggle a greek god hands to a motherfucker he suspects is fucking his baby mama
but
i am on an overheated, understoraged line with the culinary equivalent of dipset breathing down my neck, except fuckers in dipset aren’t on the clock as much cause they don’t grind as hard
its never pretty, or easy, or well-ventilated, or fucking anything but Hard
and that is exactly what i asked for. reap, sow, bed, lay, this is at the very least some hilarious karmic punishment for five years of talking about cooking without really having any fucking idea what i was doing
love,
the blanchmaster general
