You Came To This Blog For A Recipe, But Here Is My Life Story Instead

You Came To This Blog For A Recipe, But Here Is My Life Story Instead

By: Katie Pecho

Hey friends and fans! Welcome to the recipe for my exquisite new Zesty Tuscan Pasta. I want to start by thanking everyone who reached out in the comments last week to express their condolences about my breakup with Chet, which was difficult, I’ll admit, but totally for the best. If he wants to dump me– a beautiful food goddess with an ass that won’t quit– for his fucking euchre partner of all people, then so be it. I OBVIOUSLY don’t care and am way better off without him. You can tell him that if you see him. In fact, you totally should. 

I just don’t get it, is the thing. I’m a boss babe with a popular food blog and a burgeoning essential oil business, while she’s a stuffy-ass human rights attorney. I mean, how boring is that? What do they even talk about, like manila folders or some shit? Chet always loved hearing about the latest oil I was freebasing or the DM’s I sent unprompted to high school acquaintances I used to bully. He is so going to miss the unpredictable excitement of dating me when she’s talking about, like, politics or his interests or some bullshit. I mean, human rights, are you serious? Don’t we already have those? 

Unrelated, but what do you guys think of my new haircut? I was feeling spontaneous so WHAMMO, I got bangs! Though if anyone needs a new hairstyle, it’s that Euchre slut he’s dating. Not that I give a crap or anything, but someone needs to tell that fivehead that her hairline looks like a lie detector test. I sent her a few tweets out of the goodness of my heart, but they haven’t seemed to penetrate that helmet she calls a bob. I’ll just keep sending them until she gets the picture. Because I’m just that fucking nice.

I’ll admit, I was a bit of a bad girl last night while I was cooking up this recipe. I had this whole elaborate thing planned, with garden tomatoes and fresh noodles and literal zest. But then, through no fault of my own, I just so happened to see Chet kissing that Bicycle bitch through the webcam I installed in his nightstand, and I… kind of lost my shit. It’s a long story, and I won’t bore you with the details, but I’m not allowed to scale his security fence anymore and I’m now banned from buying battleaxes or any other weaponry at a federal level. Oh, and the cheapskate costume shop said I have to pay for the Predator costume I rented just because I got a smidge of blood on it, which is ridiculous. But I don’t see Miss Lindsay Esquire jumping up and down about my human rights. Hypocrite.

So anyway, my intention was to bring you my recipe for Zesty Tuscan Pasta. But I’m currently posting through a VPN from an undisclosed location, which I will vacate as soon as this post is live, since I had to “take care of” the bellhop who was asking too many questions (eventually, someone is going to open up that mail chute and I’m gonna be in trouble). Being on the lam is freaking stressful, and I don’t even have any lavender with me, so please leave your thoughts and prayers (and untraceable wire transfers) in the comments. 

But since I never want to disappoint my fans, if you ever find yourself clinging to the bed of a pickup truck that you’re really hoping is heading towards a border, you can open a can of Beefaroni with a work boot and a single nail and then drink it straight– it’s already cooked so it’s totally safe. Add a little sawdust on top for extra zest and remember to pitch the can overboard when you’re done. Ciao bella!


1 can of Beefaroni or whatever you can pilfer from a distractable old person’s shopping cart

1 work boot- any size

1 nail

Sawdust (a pinch)


  1. If you are in the San Antonio area and want to be a real gem, leave a briefcase of unmarked bills behind the Fuddrucker’s next to the lean-to fashioned from Lularoe merch. Or a few more cans of Beefaroni. Thanks in advance.

Word Brothel