Aka: The “Yes I Used Jarred Mushrooms, Fight Me” Edition

Ingredients:

1 cast iron skillet (because you’re not here to play) Cooking spray or oil (to keep your crust from throwing a tantrum) Jalapeños (fresh or pickled, whatever chaos you’re feelin’) Pepperoni (or whatever meat makes you feel something) Jarred mushrooms (YES. I SAID JARRED. Cry about it.) 1–2 cups shredded mozzarella (enough to cover your regrets) ¾ cup pizza sauce (or pasta sauce, who cares) Garlic powder, salt, Italian seasoning (aka the holy trinity of lazy flavor) 1 ball of store-bought pizza dough (thank you Publix, we stan)

Directions:

Preheat the hell outta that oven. 400°F. No negotiations. Pop your cast iron skillet in there while it’s heating so it’s hotter than your 2016 revenge glow-up. Prep that pan like a diva. Take it out carefully (because duh, it’s hotter than Satan’s armpit), spray it with cooking spray or rub it with oil like it owes you money. Build it backwards, like your last 3 relationships. First goes the toppings — toss in those jalapeños, pepperoni slices, and jarred mushrooms like you’re starting a rebellion against snobby foodies. Say cheese, bitch. Layer that mozzarella like you’re tucking it in for a nap. Be generous. Be bold. Be that person your lactose-intolerant friends secretly admire. Sauce it like you mean it. Spread the sauce right over the cheese — yes, we’re doing this wrong on purpose. Season it with garlic powder, salt, and Italian seasoning until it smells like your ex will regret ever leaving you. Now cover that mess up. Roll out your store-bought dough (ain’t nobody kneading for 3 hours) and lay it over the top like a big warm blanket of IDGAF. Tuck in the edges like it’s bedtime and you’re the villain in a rom-com. Bake that bad bitch. Pop it back into the oven on the bottom rack (so the crust crisps up like your patience) for 20–25 minutes. Go sip wine or scream into a pillow — whatever soothes you. The Flip Heard ’Round the Kitchen. When it’s golden, glorious, and your smoke alarm is not yelling at you, pull it out. Grab a wooden board, take a deep breath, and FLIP that skillet like the sassy kitchen goddess you are.

Serve With:

A triumphant smirk. A middle finger to culinary gatekeepers. A “yes it’s crispy and gooey at the same time, and no you can’t have any” attitude.

This pizza is crispy, messy, sexy, and absolutely done with everyone’s opinion. Like you. Like me. Like anyone who’s ever said “you can’t use jarred mushrooms.”

And to drink???? Coming right up…

🍸 “Spicy Little Bitch” Margarita

Because you’re hot, salty, and people can’t stop talking about you.

Ingredients:

2 oz tequila (pick your poison — silver, reposado, whatever’s in your freezer) 1 oz fresh lime juice (don’t come at me with that bottled nonsense) ¾ oz triple sec or Cointreau (you fancy-ish) ½ oz agave or honey (because we’re sweet… sometimes) A couple slices of fresh jalapeño (because we bite) Tajín or chili-salt rim (optional but STRONGLY encouraged) Ice (duh) A lime wedge (for garnish, if you’re pretending you care about presentation)

Directions:

Rim that glass, baby. Run a lime around the edge of your glass and dip it in Tajín or salt like you’re dressing it for revenge. Muddle that jalapeño. Throw a couple slices into your shaker and smash ‘em like your dreams from 2014. Get the fire going. Shake it like you’re over it. Add tequila, lime juice, triple sec, agave, and a handful of ice to the shaker. Put on your “I don’t have time for this” face and shake like you’re trying to exorcise bad vibes. Strain & pour. Strain into your rimmed glass over fresh ice. Watch that golden sassiness flow. Garnish if you wanna. Throw in a lime wedge or float a jalapeño on top if you’re feeling extra petty.

Optional:

Top with a splash of soda if you want to pretend you’re hydrating. Make it a pitcher if you’ve had enough of humanity for the week and you’re not drinking alone — your pizza counts as company.

Mood Pairing:

Put on some music that says, “I could be nice, but I’m choosing violence today.” Sip slow or chug fast — you’re in charge.