Olive Garden Pasta Pass
by Andi Lutz
It's My Birthday
It was my birthday and my girlfriends took me out to a fancy dinner. I got dressed up, I even put on nice shoes, they had a heel and everything. I was hoping to go to you know where, but it didn’t happen. Instead they took me to some over-priced place with food on the menu which I had no idea what it was. There was absolutely no pasta in the restaurant, I asked, the waiter looked at me like I was crazy. So, no they absolutely did not have never ending pasta.
Oh, well. I was going to try to make the best of it, I was with my friends, after all. We drank wine and chatted. And gossiped. When my food came it looked like a teeny, tiny piece of art, as if it wasn’t meant to be consumed. Every little sprig, sauce, or shaving was painstakingly placed at just the right angle on my plate. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it, anyway if I did, I’d still be hungry. How can they call this a meal, it’s like they put it through a shrinky dink machine before they brought it out.