After a few too many frozen pizzas, Peter's feeling like he needs a change, but his lack of culinary ambition is foiled (har de har) by an empty shelf where the lasagna should be. Maybe there's a shortage, but at this time of day it's more likely some schmuck's taken the lot, leaving him debating whether he should pick up a chicken at the rotisserie or default to Chinese.

Peter's no stranger to being cussed out, in spandex or out of it, but even in New York there's usually a little more provocation required than just walking down the aisle. "Seriously? Back atcha, lady -- oh. Hi, Jessica."