Because none of us want to take a second mortgage on our home so that Nikki can continue to twirl a rifle for the CNS Northstars, the family met last night at Spaghetti Warehouse for bread, salad, and pasta served in tomato soup. I've never eaten there and I'm guessing last night's meal was a simulacra of what they normally serve and that if I was to dine there and pay more, the food would be memorable.
The atmosphere was.
So, between the chocolate, the dome days, the t-shirts, the sponsorship, the admission costs, and now the pasta, all of my family can now say that Nickerdoodles owes each of us a trip to Australia when she finally makes money. That will be karma in return. She can work for a change and sponsor us to see Koalas and to search for Nicole Kidman.
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