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A few nights ago I stood waiting as one of my healthy yoga babe roommates pulled three fat, juicy, farm fresh chicken breasts from the oven. They were sprinkled with fresh thyme, mint from our garden, sea salt and crushed black pepper. I had a bite and, real talk, it was delicious.
True Religion Buddha Christmas Sales, ˇ§Leave that oven on for me, I said, pulling a cardboard box from the freezer.
What are you making? she asked.
True Religion Buddha Christmas Sales A Red Bizzle frizzle pizzle, I replied, pulling a frozen disc of carbs, cheese, pepperoni and gray sausage from its plastic sheath. I doused the pizza with sriracha and slid it into the 400 degrees.
She chuckled, taking another bite of her succulent chicken.
I don't need you judging my poverty food, I said, extremely defensive.
Do you, baby boo, she replied as I sulked to my room to cry and masturbate for 20 minutes while my pizza cooked.
True Religion Buddha Christmas Sales What s the point of this story, besides showing that I'm low-key thriving hard and you're not? It's that, of course, we all appreciate fine foods. Living luxe is goal #1 here at Four Pins, but you can only appreciate the dankest of classy snacks if you've dabbled extensively in the realm of strug food. And what item represents the strug more than a sad, cardboard-y frozen pizza? My Italian forefathers were probably SMFHing in their graves as I crushed an entire spicy, delicious Red Baron from the comfort of my bed, but sometimes you gotta sacrifice in some areas to flourish in others. Since you obviously haven't made it yet either, join me in breaking down the highs and lows of the frozen pizza aisle.
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Angelo Spagnolo is a writer living in Brooklyn. You can follow him on Twitter here .