This will be hard for some folks to believe, but there are several things I never heard, saw, or tasted until I was an adult, simply because I personally never encountered these things in New York City.
First of all I never heard anyone say the words "some folks." I never heard anyone say "on accident" (as opposed to "by accident"). I never heard anyone say "acrosst" instead of "across." I never ate a green bean casserole or had a sip of egg nog.
Did I go to the Rocky Horror Picture Show and drink frozen Margaritas in a West Village gay bar every other weekend of high school? Yes. Did I regularly see sewer rats the size of a cocker spaniel? Yes. Did I hear people shout curses at each other in 17 different languages from window to window?
First of all I never heard anyone say the words "some folks." I never heard anyone say "on accident" (as opposed to "by accident"). I never heard anyone say "acrosst" instead of "across." I never ate a green bean casserole or had a sip of egg nog.
Did I go to the Rocky Horror Picture Show and drink frozen Margaritas in a West Village gay bar every other weekend of high school? Yes. Did I regularly see sewer rats the size of a cocker spaniel? Yes. Did I hear people shout curses at each other in 17 different languages from window to window?
Absolutely.
And I ate plenty of spaghetti, which I definitely called "spaghetti." Not pasta, as everyone calls it now. Or most people, anyway.
What I didn't ever do was "feed" on spaghetti, and I'm grateful for that because the word "feed"--verb or noun--does not belong within 100 miles of the word "spaghetti."
"Spaghetti Feed" belongs with "Moist Slacks" or "Pantyhose" or "Pocketbook" or "Dungarees" on the list of words that need to vanish from the English language to make room for “dotard” again.
And I ate plenty of spaghetti, which I definitely called "spaghetti." Not pasta, as everyone calls it now. Or most people, anyway.
What I didn't ever do was "feed" on spaghetti, and I'm grateful for that because the word "feed"--verb or noun--does not belong within 100 miles of the word "spaghetti."
"Spaghetti Feed" belongs with "Moist Slacks" or "Pantyhose" or "Pocketbook" or "Dungarees" on the list of words that need to vanish from the English language to make room for “dotard” again.
The words “Spaghetti Feed” bring to mind a dozen zombie pigs at a trough just sticking their snouts in a huge pile of limp wet noodles covered with watery tomato sauce and mixed in with hunks of soggy garlic bread with that Kraft Parmesan cheese dust and rooting around and snuffling and oinking until it’s all gone.
Yes, this is how I eat spaghetti every time I eat it. But does there need to be a disgusting term for it to remind me of that fact?
No. No, there does not.
