
I've seen pasta you people wouldn't believe. Spaghetti on fire off the shoulder of some paisan. I watched parmesan glitter in the dark, dusted on a nearby the lasagna. All those moments will be lost in time, like meatballs in threads.
Comments heard from the offices of cohost and a dysfunctional italian restauant
I. FUCKING. HATE. COHOST HQ.
The coworkers mute me in our standup and shout "go meatball that shit go"
My coworkers are yelling "fuck off you shit head" at me. We are not the same.