“Okay, serious question, ready?” “Lay it on me.” “Tacos, pizza, pasta. You gotta fuck one, marry one, kill one. Go.” “Oh, wow.” I chuckle, considering my options. My brain runs through the different scenarios. “Um . . . Fuck tacos. Marry pasta. Kill pizza.” “You’re going to kill pizza?!” “Well, I’m certainly not going to kill pasta or tacos.”
