This Isn’t Hell’s Kitchen, It’s Friday Night
Let’s be honest: if you think I’m firing up a four-course meal after a soul-sucking day, you’re fucking hallucinating. Not every dinner needs two side dishes and a ceremonial salad. The fridge is angry, the kids are hangry, and your will to live died around 5:15. Fuck it. Tonight, we survive by any means necessary—and that means whatever’s frozen, easy, and keeps the kitchen (and you) standing upright.
Frozen Food Isn’t Giving Up, It’s Leveling Up
Who decided frozen dumplings, box mac and cheese, or three sad toaster waffles were a cry for help? Some fake-ass Pinterest board, probably. If it’s good enough to be stocked on shelves everywhere, it’s good enough for dinner. Eating chicken nuggets (again) is not some lazy cop-out; it’s a shortcut made by geniuses who know time is fake and hunger is real. The microwave is not the enemy. It’s my best friend.
Welcome to Snack Plate Night, where an adult can put a pile of grapes, a hunk of cheese, and those crackers you thought were stale on a plate, and somehow it counts. If you squint hard enough, it’s even fancy—let’s call it ‘deconstructed charcuterie.’
Fuck Guilt, Get Dinner Done
If you feel any twinge of guilt serving up easy shit, congratulations, you’ve been infected by the myth of the ‘proper home-cooked meal.’ News flash: No one’s winning an award for making fresh pesto with kids screaming in the next room. Your job is to get food in bodies with minimal drama. If frozen pizza does that, then sing its greasy praises and move on.
Low-effort dinners aren’t a sign of low standards; they’re evidence that you get it. Because giving a shit about your sanity is smarter than burning out on weeknight lasagna. Anyone who judges you is either lying, tired, or ordering takeout in private.
Embrace the Bare Minimum, Damn It
What, you think your kids are logging these meals into some cosmic scorecard? Hell no. They’re just happy not to be chewing on another weird casserole. And you? You get more time to sit down, curse under your breath, or stare at the wall for a precious ten minutes. Isn’t that the dream?
Survival isn’t just enough, it’s everything. Feed the gremlins, feed yourself, and call it a win.
No gold stars—but no cold guilt either.
Friday Night Homework: Absolutely Nothing
Here’s your only assignment: pick at something from the freezer, don’t apologize for it, and enjoy that liberated, fuck-it feeling. Normalizing the lowest-effort win is the best way to end any goddamn week.
If you found a frozen food hack that saves your ass, spill it in the comments. Otherwise, fuck trying so hard tonight. See you on the other side of dinner.
The Potty Mouth Panda 