Who Made This Pie?

We're having Thanksgiving at work tomorrow. We're all supposed to bring something in, and the dishes range from simple (toothpicks with ketchup) to hard (sauteed unicorn). I always sign up for dessert. There are two reasons for this. First, I like to eat desserts. Sometimes on these days, I am so overcome with my desire to eat desserts that I stop my car half-way to work and eat the entire thing by myself. I'm sneaky about it, though; when I'm done, I mess up my hair and rip my shirt. Then, when I get to work, I breathlessly exclaim, "Some neighborhood hooligans beat me up and made me eat a whole pumpkin pie! What's this world coming to?"

The second reason I bring desserts is because I can choose my level of involvement. If I want to make the whole thing from scratch (unlikely), I can. If I just want to buy the damn thing, put it into a different container, and then claim I made it all myself, that works also. This morning, I was wondering just how much work I wanted to put into my pecan pie for tomorrow. I saw Patrick had signed up to bring a pie too, so I asked him about his plan. He said, "I’m going to buy a frozen one at the HEB today, pop it in the oven for an hour, and pass it off as my own. The Lioi Family Secret Ingredient is heat." I love it.

As much as I love it, though, it's still too much work. It's been a long week, and I don't plan on devoting an entire hour to heating up a pie. The Powell Family Secret Ingredient is buying my crap ready to serve. Gobble gobble, suckas.