Column: Are crescent rolls supposed to be poop-shaped?

Cooking should not be this difficult.

I’m trying to make some crescent rolls. In other words, I bought a can of dough from the grocery store and I put the dough on a sheet. This should be as easy as buying a cake.

But it’s not.

Because my crescent rolls have just come out of the oven looking like the snakes I used to make out of Play-Doh when I was a kid. They’re not even close to being crescent-shaped. They’re poop-shaped if anything. And that’s just gross. Nobody wants a poop-shaped crescent roll. That’s a universal truth.

Clearly I did something wrong between taking the dough out of the can and placing it on the baking sheet. However, the blobby man with a neckerchief and a chef’s hat on the front of the can is offering little assistance – in fact, he’s offering none at all. The Pillsbury Doughboy is just standing there with that stupid grin on his face laughing at my stupidity. I’ll bake you yet Doughboy.

It’s sad. Even though I’ve lived on my own for almost two years now, I still struggle to make foods that should be simple to make.

I can’t even make a decent scrambled egg sandwich despite having first learned how to make one in middle school. I’ve called my mother at least three times trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong and why they don’t taste like the ones she makes. Each time she slowly explains to me the proper way to make scrambled eggs. And every time I attempt to follow her directions, I brown them. I’m almost to the point that I want to go egging. Not so much because I want to destroy property, but rather because I want to see the little white oval devils explode into a wall.

I know getting mad at food products won’t help my cause. It’s not their fault that the cheese on the pizza doesn’t melt like it’s supposed to, or that the bacon turns into shriveled-up black strips that looked less tasty than a package of Beggin’ Strips. It’s my fault. Either that or it’s the cooking god Spatula’s fault. Oh, how I hate him.

And it’s not like I can eat fast food every day unless I want to look like the Pillsbury Doughboy in three months. And eating out every night is out of the question on my current salary. So I’m just going to have to figure this cooking stuff out eventually.

But until then, at least I have a bag of pretzels to hold me over. They go quite well with poop-shaped crescent rolls.

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