I may not know a whole lot in this life, but THIS I DO know.
My husband hates me and is trying to either a) kill me, b) make me miserable, or c) make me miserable right before he kills me.
Why, you ask?
I sent him to the store with a simple list last weekend. It contained edible items I could take to work for lunch.
He bought me this:
Which is apparently filled with monkey shit and motor oil. I was hungry so I ate it. And now I will probably die.
But luckily, since it’s filled with TWICE THE FIBER! (YAY!) of normal pasta, I will likely shit my pants before anyone finds my cold, dead carcass.
I will purchase my own lunch items next week.
Also, I do NOT recommend the pasta florentine, thank you very much.