Not only am I almost 28 years old and still living off of buy-one-get-one-free Jewel brand frozen cheese pizzas, and not only have I been suffering the past two days from pizza mouth burn (Surface cheese temperature isn't what you have to look out for; it's the submerged, potentially napalm-y sauce layer you need to worry about), but now I am suffering from secondary pizza mouth burn, a burn on top of an existing burn, which is infinitely painful. Plus I had to wake up this morning at 6am to remove my cat from a pair of plastic grocery bags it had tangled up in digging through the trash to eat frozen pizza grease-soaked paper towels. 6am is a good time to look your paper-towel-eating cat in the eye as you pull garbage off of her and ask her, "Are you like this because I raised you? Why are you like this? What is wrong with me?"
MOSTLY UNRELATED: I have this terrible sinking suspicion that somewhere someone in America has named their band after some aspect of the tsunami disaster. The certainty with which I feel this makes me feel immensely depressed. The fact that I have, in the past, invented two hypothetical bands, The Nightclub Disasters and Porch Collapse, after headline tragedies only makes it worse.