Mom: No. He's still laying on the couch, bitching about venal fuckheads.
Me: Must be fun.
Mom: You have no idea. It's 1968 all over again.
Me: What, you're both smoking pot and listening to Beatles albums backwards?
Mom: That whole playing the record backwards thing never worked. And I've never smoke pot in my life.
Me: Liar. Dad says you did.
Mom: Your father also said there was a lost tribe of Indians called the Watchahooties.
Me: You make an interesting point. But you know, he once told me this hilarious story about you and this pot party.
Mom: He didn't! He swore he would never tell!
Me: Oh, how I laughed. How did it go? You had just transferred to UT Austin from some little small town college and got invited to a pot party, which you, in your sheltered naivety thought was a pot luck party. What did you take? A tuna casserole?
Mom: It was a beef noodle casserole. And let me tell you, those hippies were real happy to have that casserole after an hour or so.