Last night I went to my friend Zach’s birthday party, even though it’s like a month after his birthday. I saw a lot of old friends who live close enough but I never see. That’s just the way it goes, I’m sure. Zach’s wife Alice got her degree in CS and then hit a dry stretch where no one seemed to be hiring so she went to culinary school. She even worked as a chef for a while before she went back to her geek roots. Anyway, for Zach’s birthday party she cooked a tasty goose.
In any case, I was supposed to go to my buddy Il’s birthday party tonight and it’s actually his birthday. However, we were going to hit a Moroccan restaurant where you have to eat with your hands. I’ve been coughing for the past two days and I didn’t want to touch any community food. I ended up going to a neighborhood pasta place with my mom, sister, and brother-in-law.
There was a strikingly attractive woman at the pasta place looking unhappy. I told my sister I found unhappy attractive women even more attractive because, hey, I’m not going to make them any happier. I had chicken parmigiana because I couldn’t imagine anything other than frozen cafeteria chicken parmigiana and I knew that our local pasta place would be much better than that. Somehow I got stuck with the bill, though. Clever, those relatives of mine.