Oh hi, Rentus coming up and YouTube is not very reliable, so the best way that you can make sure that I'm not homeless is by buying my merchandise from crowd-made. Crowd-made does really good work and they have like a tea, nae just lame t-shirt. We got like a polo shirt that you can wear in a golf course. We even have this wonderful dad hat that I have not taken off since I got it. Link is in the description. I really appreciate it and yeah, I'll with the video. When I was about 11 years old, my dad married a woman who was now my stepmom. At the time, I hadn't done anything much in the way of housework or cooking or anything, so when we moved to a two story four-bedroom, three-bathroom, massive house, one of the nicer neighborhoods in Boise, it was a bit of a culture shock. For the first time in my life, I had chores, watering plants, dusting stuff, moving furniture, and the occasional cooking. Since I had no experience with pretty much any of those things, my stepmom often had to give me these really thorough instructions. They were occasionally weird and I didn't understand them, but they worked out 99% of the time. It was kind of like something from the Bible where Moses could just be standing in front of a massive body of water, leading thousands of people away from the Egyptian army. The Pharaoh and his soldiers are storming closer on the horizon and tons of innocent men, women and children are primed and ready to be slaughtered. Moses is like, um, God, what do I do? And God is like, tap your stick on the ground. And Moses is like, what? And God is like, no balls do it. So Moses does it, how what do you know? Everything works out great. I'm saying all this to simply establish. You don't question what my stepmom says. If she gives you instructions no matter how weird, you follow them and things will work out for you. Fast forward about a year or so and I kind of understand all this. She's like a mini-marthist to where it minus the stock trading fraud. We have an old family friend Chelsea coming over for dinner. We haven't seen her in ages because she's been off doing crazy cool adventures like college and stuff. My stepmom was so excited that she spent days and days preparing the Naisal's lasagna that you've ever seen. Premium ingredients worth around $100. They're organic. They're fresh. They're imported from Italy and stuff like that. They were blessed by Buddhist monks. If you served it to a ghost in the Sims 3, that ghost would probably come back to life. It was the night Chelsea was supposed to come over. I got a call from my stepmom. Hello? Hey, pumpkin. I'm running a little bit late. Your dad is sick upstairs so you're going to need to do this. I need you to pull the lasagna from the fridge, put it on a cookie sheet, and stick it in the oven. I'll be home soon. Simple as pie. I opened up the fridge and the lasagna almost blinds me with its glory. I put it on the counter and I think about the instructions. Okay, put it on a cookie sheet. When we made cookies as a kid, we'd lay globs of dough on wax paper. So a sheet of paper, you put cookies on wax paper, cookie sheet. Okay, I got it. So I pull out a sheet of wax paper and I lay it on the counter. How on earth am I going to get all the lasagna on the wax paper? How is this going to work out? Nope, don't you question your stepmom. She's like Gordon Ramsay minus the F words. Do you remember the whole Bible thing? Yeah, don't forget that. I grabbed a spatula and I eyed down the lasagna and it's perfectly good, hand-blown glass container. It shouldn't be too hard. You just tilt it down, help lasagna slide onto the cookie sheet. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. So I started and quickly found out that it wasn't easy peasy lemon squeezy. So the sauce came out of the sides. The little patches of grass and flowers sprouted from the floorboards. Like I said, this was the finest lasagna ever crafted. Eventually all of the lasagna itself started to come out. I was hoping it would retain its shape. It didn't. All the layers were lost. All the toppings, they were sliding out of the sides. It was a mess. But it was still salvageable. I realized things were not going so well. I tried to slide it back into its bowl. That was not working. Okay, I know Dad is asleep and sick, but I need his assistance. I wandered upstairs and poked his shoulder and I was like, Hey, Dad, I need some help here. His eyes shoot open. He's half awake. What? Huh? What do you need? Um, Stepmother told me to put the lasagna on a cookie sheet and stuff, but it's not really working out. Ugh, just put the lasagna on a cookie sheet like she said. There's no plausible way it could go wrong. Just do it, please. Then he just rolled over and went back to sleep. Although in his defense, you would have to use a lot of imagination to figure out a way that that could go wrong. And he felt super crazy sick anyway. I wandered back downstairs and tried to get the lasagna back when there was a knock at the door. I answered it to find that Chelsea had arrived. I was standing there dripping in tomato sauce. Oh, hi, Chelsea. Hey, mate. You look busy. Everything okay? Oh, yeah. Everything's fine. Great. Dandy, how about you come inside and I'll turn on forest gum for you? I mean, I can't say no to good old Tom Hanks, I guess. Just let me know if you need anything. Cool, thanks, Sia. I scrambled over to the lasagna and I continued trying to fix it. A giant slab of meats and vegetables and posse just fell to the ground and splattered. A puppy crawled out of the mess because like I said, this lasagna was really, really good. Chelsea heard it and poked her head over the couch. Um, everything okay over there? I'm gonna die in here. Ah, geez. Let me help you. She wandered over and saw the mess. The thing that you need to know about Chelsea is that she used to live with my stepmom. She knew what stepmom was capable of. There was a look of terror in her eyes. Oh no. What have you done? I'm on my last legs here. We need to clean this up before she gets home. And wouldn't you know it? That's when the garage door opened up. My heart dropped into my stomach and my stomach dropped into my butt and my butt ran away with the spoon. Chelsea glanced over me with really big eyes. I'll go to stractor. You take care of this ASAP. So she runs into the hallway to stop stepmom and I'm shelving the nicest lasagna anyone has ever made onto this cracked paper. Stepmom walks around the corner because apparently Chelsea sucks at distracting. Oh hi Nate. Is the lasagna ready? To go? She sees the whole thing. I look like a toddler who stuffed his face with birthday cake. There was sauce all over the counter running down the island sides pulling up at my feet. Chunks of meat and pasta with bits of tomato clumped up and soggy wax paper. The goodness of lasagna evaporated into the air leaving some kind of quality vacuum for the legions of Satan Occupy. It looked like a murder scene. Stepmom stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't drop her groceries. She put them on the ground. She looked over at Chelsea. Stepmom's smile never broke. I think you should go in the other room and wait a minute. This will only be a second. Are you sure? I can just help clean up it. Now Chelsea. Chelsea went to the guest room like a dog with its tail between her legs and as soon as the door closed behind her. What is the matter with you? I gave you simple instructions and you went ahead and ruined family dinner for everyone. This lasagna is worth more than you are in the black market. I spend days perfecting this. See that puppy in the corner? That miracle was birthed by my hand and you went ahead and smeared it all over the kitchen like a monkey throwing poop on the walls. My dad wandered into the room half dead essentially. He acts as my defense lawyer whenever I mess up. Ugh, what's going on over here? Where have you been all night? The lasagna has been absolutely ruined because of your absence in all this. Nate, how did this happen? I thought Wax Paper was a cookie sheet and I didn't stop to question Stepmom because she's always right about this weird stuff. Ah, that makes sense. Look honey, it was just a misunderstanding. Don't honey me. This isn't a misunderstanding. This is just stupid. Why would you remove this priceless lasagna from its hand-blown glass bowl? The insides were greased with the tears of Robin Williams. The pasta was crafted by wheat from George Clooney's property in Italy. I snuck over the fence to get it myself and was almost eaten by guard dogs. I missed my mother's funeral while preparing this. Did you know it was my birthday yesterday? I did nothing. I stayed home delicately laying each trip on top of the other in perfect symmetry. I attended a college class on Feng Shui to achieve perfect balance for the dish. And now it's ruined! God! Out of here! Now what you need to understand about my Stepmom is that she's one of the most powerful, incredible, amazing, sweet, kind, thoughtful women you will ever meet in your entire life. 98% of the time anyway. This was that 2% coming out in a fit of mad rage that was totally justified on her end, by the way. Chelsea was still in the other room listening through the walls and having war flashbacks from when she lived in the house many, many years ago. Stepmom blacked out and threw the glass container in the sink a little harder than she thought and exploded to a million pieces. Robin Williams tears ran down the drain. Chelsea probably thinks I'm dead at this point. So a few hours went by and we wound up having shrimp. So, how was work today, sweetie? Good. Nice. I love you. I love you too, sweetie. You know what? This shrimp is way better than any of us on your anyway! Nobody wants to hear it, Chelsea! Hey Nate, I'm running a little bit late. Your dad is up, Nate in late rhyme. So, what if I called you pumpkin? I mean it just sounds like hey Nate, I'm running a little bit late. I'm driving up the state. Duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, I hate you. So, I'm okay.