Flashback Memory Friday: Who knew crows were picky?

In grade 12, Whatever and I had the opportunity to house-sit a beautiful home in Skutz Falls (aka the middle of forested nowhere). It was gorgeous.

This was pretty much our first time being out of our parents' houses. We were oh so grown up. One night Whatever was out late and I thought I'd make her pizza for when she got home. Pizza's pretty easy right? Just slap together some toppings and toss it in the oven, yeah?

Here's what I did:
-Put premade crust on tray
-Topped crust with a touch of tomatoe sauce, some ham, and some pineapple
-Added preshredded mozza cheese. Cheesy pizza is the best right, so I just put the whole bag on there. (The bag may have been 1kg)
-Put in the oven on the top shelf
-Turned the temp up to broil and let cook for 40 minutes

Turns out I burnt the shit out of it. The smoke literally poured out of the oven. Charcoal my friends, charcoal. Even when I scraped the black off the top, it was still rough. It tasted like nasty campfire. Poor Whatever tried to show her appreciation for my "cooking" but couldn't eat it. The next day, her mom came over with some foster kids and the kids wouldn't eat it. So they brought the pizza for the dog. The dog wouldn't eat it. Finally, she threw bits of pizza on the lawn for the crows. Alas, the crows would not touch it and the pieces eventually became waterlogged and mouldy. Sigh.