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Pasta Night

"Wow, that’s bitchin’," Mark awes at the rising steam of the straining pasta as it fogs the kitchen sink window.

"Oh my god, who uses bitchin’? Who ever used ‘bitchin’ seriously?" Susan sips from her wine, throwing her arms out while eyeing Mark. "When I think of bitchin’, I think of like the same people that said groovy all the time..."

"What!" Mark pours the strained tortellini into the pot for marinara. "People that said bitchin’ and people that said groovy are totally different. Bitchin’ has so much more of an uber-macho connotation to it..."

"No, not necessarily," Susan’s finger points, poised for debate, "When I think of people that said groovy, I think of like the Partridge family or the Brady’s..."

"Exactly, that’s my point," Mark stirs and drinks his lager, "...the goofy Brady’s or Partridge’s have a little bit more class than someone who uses bitchin’. When I think of bitchin’, I think of like... Camaros and mullets... I think of Spicoli from that movie. Groovy is mellower, less testosterone charged, dreamy Greg Brady playing guitar, or some stoned hippy shit - not Camaros and dudes.

Susan pours another glass, "Yeah, I guess..."

"Now that’s tits!" Mark laughs, a little buzzed and in the mood, as he removes the garlic bread from the oven.

"Okay, seriously, who ever used tits?"

"Oh, you don’t know who used tits? Randy’s brother, Steve, use to say tits all the time..."

"Steve? The guy who still rolls his sleeves up on his t-shirts and still had a mullet perm...?"

Story by:

Jay Halsey

submitted at 10:13pm

24 May 2009

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