This. This is. This is downright morose. Cooking for one is somber. Cooking lessons for cooking for one is ponderous. Microwave cooking lessons for one is woebegone. Cooking alone in public to eat alone in public. Teaching others to cook alone to eat alone in private, in public, is the worst thing ever. It’s more melancholy than four Good Fridays. It’s more dismal than a young pessimist, or an elderly optimist. More sorrowful than Joe Montana in a Chiefs uniform. It’s sadder than a bad country song, and more mournful than a good one.
Sad? This is sadder than a gas station hot dog.
[Thanks to the jolly Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along]