In celebration of his 20th birthday and the fact that they finally turned the hot water back on in his palatial squat (or squatty palace – I haven’t decided which, but it’s really nice or was or will be), a.v. invited me over for dinner tonight:
av: Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making dinner.
mg: Sure! What time?
av: Now’s good.
mg: Do you want me to bring anything?
av: Nah, nothing. Maybe just some bread and tomato sauce and some grated cheese.
mg: Why don’t I just bring over a couple of pizzas? It would probably be easier.
av: Because we’re having pasta.
I have to say, given the proper ingredients, that boy can cook. We had pasta with tomato sauce and grated cheese and watched 'Scary Movie', while his little brother flirted rather successfully with half the country in a multi-tasking blur of popups over MSN chat.
We threw the garbage out of the window as we had already taken the garbage out once that evening after cleaning the kitchen in order to make dinner. For his birthday, I gave him a pipe and an NYPD t-shirt. He just needs a little balance and hot water and he’ll be fine.
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