I make love like I make lasagna: with extra meat.

If love had its limits, and those limits tasted like lasagna, could you see yourself dating a can of chicken noodle soup? I only ask because I’m in the mood to spoon. After all, I...

I make love like I make lasagna. I just made some, so would you like seconds?

I buried the lasagna, because it was better than disposing of a dead body. I’ve been burned in a relationship, but never in an oven. I’ll try harder.

I’m hungry for success. And lasagna.