So dude has broz comin’ over to beer and pasta and Netflix and chill. First off, these dudez are broz, ‘standee? They’ve got manly beards and sweet Chelseas and they’re into rad tribal shit like motorbikes and greasing the iron with their fuckin’ sweat. And these dudez do not get nervous. They get intense. And they also get hungry, real hungry ‘kaysee? ‘Cause broz are totally into being chefz and may actually be chefz who are out there being all up in it (AKA the WORLD) being intense and theyz have a lot on their mindz and soulz and muzclez, so broz need a lot on their platez. These guyz are super real, you can tell by their tatz. They’ve got skulls and snakes and titty piratez on the all over and also some cute shit too. Because of the emotionz. And no fuckin’ lolz. ‘Cause it’s for realz. So when you bake that lasagna it’s not just friggin’ meat and sauce and cheese and pasta. It’s a fuckin’ beast of a slab for a Man Damnimal. First get your ass out of your head and make those pasta sheets fucking fresh. Broz don’t nosh on no dried shit from no box from the nineties. No way, these are dudez whose emotional dial is permanently on bro. And fuck if they don’t nosh their pasta fresh. Stone ground wheat and no shit filler and eggs fresh from no bitch-ass hens but pure coq and roll, ‘standee? Okay, take that can of Ditchwater perineum flavoured tomato sauce and ram it up your icing hole. You see, true hombrez get the fuck off on slowly simmered sauce that gives God hizself the wet tuna, so get a big Calphalon pot and pick some fresh basil and some sweet romas from the fucking farmer’s fucking market and stew that shit up. Stewz! Brewz! Broz! Now that better not be regular ol’ grease-baggin’ ground beef you’re getting ready to slop in there. Dudez be enjoyin share-chuggin’ bro-style their Snakeskin hammerhsmashed triple IPA so don’t think about beefin’ them, ‘standee? No, you take that cow dung and grip it and stick it and lube up and pull that pork and juice it in and smooth it on then layer over some of tasty thrice smoked pork belly and top that off with some venison sausage drip. Ground it and pound it, bitch! Damnz! Okay, throw that no name garbage can low-rent cottage cheese in the river and send that river to fucking hell and get some artisanal curds up in that pASSta. Manz gotz a cheeze fetizh ‘coz he’z horny for cheeze that taztez like the puzzy he eatz nightleez. Do yo understand how super good dude is? Fuck yes you do. Now dole some mac n’ cheese on that slab. Layer that gourmet shit up like it was a kick-ass condo where you live in the fucking penthouse full of bad-ass gourmet furniture and shit that dude and his broz are stone chillin’ on watchin’ a rad Ed Hardy fashion show on an awesome-ass huge-ass flatscreen teevee. Once the slab is ready, bake that shit hardcore in the convection oven until it’s bubblin’ fuckin’ crispy and smellin’ fuckin’ tasty. And yo better get that oil in the fryer heatin’ ’cause this slab is ’bout to get fuckin’ real for real real. Broz don’t fuck around with lasagna, yo. They bake that shit. And then they fry that shit. Deep and steep. Get it out and then drop it in and let that brew battered pASSta turn motherfuckin’ gold! Dudez are tight on that shit between broz when they nosh chow with MMA SPLASHDOWN VII kickin’ ass on the plasma and that lasagna better be fuck as fuck for dude and his broz. ‘Standee? Word.