Easter Weekend Blows

Easter Weekend Blows

This post might be a bit nastier than it would have been, considering I am re-typing it because Blogger sucks big fat fucking cheese-covered uncircumsized cock.

Friday was fine, me, Abel, Tony, Albie and Dean hit up a Filipino bar/restaurant in the city called Dragonfly, ate meat and prayed we wouldn't get hit by lightning. Dean got supremely wasted and introduced, re-introduced and re re re re re re re re re re-introduced all of his NYU friends to his Jersey friends. Naturally we all pretended each time was the first time.

Saturday started out decently, with a nice sunny trip to Target, but soon disintegrated into crap because Geo's oldest sister is a Nazi. Luckily, the evening was saved by the fact that Net, Janelle, Manny, Aris and Sean hung out and played some Kings and Hold 'Em. Just to digress a bit, my former workmate Peter used to call me "Even Steven" because every time I lost money or got ripped off, the same amount would somehow find its way back into my possession. I won 5 bucks last night at poker, but then this morning saw it in my purse at church and tossed it into the collection basket. Later on in the evening, my uncle walked by and gave me his mah jong winnings which was... you guessed it... five bucks.

Speaking of church, is it blasphemous to lean over to Geo in the middle of the sermon and say "Damn this priest talks really slow." I swear to God it was the longest sermon ever, but I really don't have to swear that to Him because He was there and knows it was like the fricken longest sermon ever. By the way, it's weird that we're supposed to be all celebratory and everything because Jesus is alive but the songs sound all mournful and depressessing. Like you're sitting in the church singing "Halleluiah" while wondering if you can successfully off yourself with a hymn book.

At around three o'clock, there was drama at my house because we were two hours late to a party in Queens and my grandmother wanted to make spaghetti to celebrate the fact that Jesus had risen from the ashes. Oh wait, He's not a phoenix. I meant risen from the cave. She said she would make it after we left, but naturally I wasn't thrilled with that idea. It's not that I don't have any faith in the ability of someone in their eighties manipulating fire safely, but I don't have any faith in the ability of someone in their eighties manipulating fire safely. I mean I love my grandmother and all but she holds onto the wall to walk to the bathroom. No you cannot cook in the house without anyone else there.

After much more drama and debate we finally decided she would make The Jesus Spaghetti and then afterwards we would head to the party. So an hour later, 3 1/2 hours late for the party, we were finally on our way, complete with short tempers and a pot of The Jesus Spaghetti nestled safely in the leather folds of our back seat.

The evening could have gotten progressively worse, especially after the following conversation with my aunt who was throwing the shindig:

Cousin: So when are you planning to have another?
Me: Maybe when the girls are 3 or 4.
Aunt: You're planning to have another kid?
Me: Yeap.
Aunt: You can't take care of three kids!
Me: I can't?
Aunt: No you can't.
Me: Why not?
Aunt: You won't be able to take care of three kids.
Me: You mean to tell me that there are stupid, lazy, drug-addicted people all over this fucking country taking care of 6 or 7 kids every single day but you don't think that I can sit at home with my fricken genius-level I.Q. and take care of three kids?
Aunt: Ummm.... okay you can go ahead and have three kids.
Me (really sarcastically even for me): Thank you for your permission.

Anyone who has Filipino aunts knows it's virtually impossible to walk away from a conversation with them without wanting to kill someone, usually them or yourself.

Luckily, thanks to the fact that they were serving Shiraz I was very much in a decent Easter mood. Especially after they turned the TV on and Desperate Housewives started. The series premier of Gray's Anatomy wasn't bad either. I don't know if it was the two glasses of wine seeing but Patrick Dempsey looked kind of hot in that guy-who-sticks-his-tongue-in-your-ass kind of way. Hey Stevie or Ray, does Patrick Dempsey count as a "What The" aka "What the hell are they thinking wanting to bang this person?"