Divorce Invitation Page #2

My theory for life is

simple... shortcuts.

Shortcuts.

You know what? This has been too

much academic debate for one day.

I'm sorry, Mike, okay?

I just had a really rough day.

How about some margaritas

at the deck bar?

And then how about a massage

by the expert hands of

a Kansas City farm boy?

If the client is not

completely satisfied,

she can return the

massage to the massager.

Thank god.

Hey, babe.

- Hi, honey.

- How are you?

Tired.

- Hi.

- Hi. Look what I brought you.

Oh, you're sweet, but I'm

so icky from the restaurant.

I just... I really want to

go in to take a shower.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

What's the... what's the rush?

This is a gorgeous evening?

Ha! It's L.A. They are

all gorgeous evenings.

Yeah, but, this is an

especially romantic evening,

isn't it? Clear...

Not so much 'cause we're

right by the dumpster,

and the trash guy forgot to

stop on our street again.

So, listen, I'm gonna go in,

I'm gonna take a shower,

and then maybe I can muster

a little romance for you.

- Hold... hold on. What's the rush?

- I got to go! I'm gross. Crap.

Dude, you don't have

to leave, all right?

You just can't put me on

watch dog anymore, all right?

Yeah. I mean, you are more than welcome

to stay with us whenever you want.

You and Scotty have known

each other since birth.

I only barged into your

lives about a year ago.

Barging in on me was not cool.

I know. I'm sorry, but, you know,

you can't barge in and expect to become

one of them in six months, either.

"One of them"? "Them"? What...

what does that even mean? Really?

Dylan and I are in love. Okay?

Why you guys so worried about this now?

Dude, she's the one who got

you the Lipnick job, remember?

She just don't want to get fired when

the christian sh*t hits the jewish fan.

No. No, I'm not worried about that.

I am a phenomenal waitress,

but I am worried about you. I mean,

if you're really considering marrying

Dylan, I just might think again.

Her grandparents are very old school.

I mean, they are super-super-religious.

So? My parents are super-religious.

They don't care if I marry a jewish girl.

Mike, are you sure?

'Cause growing in Punkton, Kansas,

I doubt anybody could tell Jewish

from Amish. Remember facial hair?

If you had facial hair, you were an

alien from outer space. True story.

Scotty, you can't change my

mind on this, okay? She's...

She's just made for me.

She's made for you. Hey, man, what

happened to the Mike I used to know?

The one who would only take the

richest dude's daughter to the prom?

Where's he at? Can I see him?

- Yeah.

- I miss him.

And what happened to the stock broker who

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