i love family parties, oh yes i do....
There is no doubt in my mind that according to everyone, their family is the most insane one around. I’m no exception to this belief. Though, in truth, I may win the battle.
So we pulled up to Kathy and Jim's house in New Jersey yesterday afternoon, the same time that Kathy's brother, Peter, was getting out of his car. So we opened our doors to exit the car and he turns around and says, "Oh look. It's the hillbillies," and walks away (He does this at every chance he gets. Needless to say, it gets old.) So my mom, setting the mood for the afternoon, turns around and announces to the res tof the car, "He's such an asshole."
Cheers Mom. And a Happy Mothers' Day to thee.
Yesterday was my cousin Brian’s First Communion. Somehow I managed not to see him all day. He’s a bit of an odd child- he’s obsessed with my slippers, for some strange, God-only-knows reason. But whatever floats your boat. (My boat floats.) Now the good thing about a party thrown by an entirely Irish family - well, a Polish guy married in and no one on my dad’s side of the family knows that my madge is part English, but that’s beside the point - is that there’s never a shortage of liquor. Now, I don’t drink, but this always ensures it to be an interesting night. My favourite parts of these parties, hands down, are when my father (the family history-keeper) and all his cousins and brothers begin to tell family stories, remembering when they were kids and such. At least one family secret is spilled per party, and as many as they have a year, I’ll never even know half of them. So I eventually made my way out onto the back deck (which is new- with the old one, you feared for your life every time you put more than 3 lbs. on it) and there was everyone crowded around a rickety old picnic table, boozed up and telling stories. My father was at the head of the table, in a yelling match with my Uncle Jim and other Uncle Jimmy (everyone’s named James, Jim, John, Patrick, John Patrick, Patrick James, or to something of that effect…Irish people will understand this. Girls are all Mary, Kathleen, Elizabeth, or Shannon, basically.) and, by general consensus, was full of “rum and shit.” Jolly good, and all pish-posh. So Bobby (Jimmy’s brother) began to talk about their nana - not my nana, for those of you who knew her- or someone who I never met. Anyway, she was staying with Bobby’s family for a while, and sleeping in Bobby’s room (he was like 6ish at the time). And she was one of the family closet-drinkers. (i.e.- if you’re going to get drunk or summat on your own, hide in a corner and pretend like everything’s normal, and we’ll love you forever.) Dad didn’t believe Bobby about that and blah blah blah, until Bobby said that she kept her bourbon or whatever it was that day in a Listerine bottle. Dad and everyone remembered that and he nearly exploded from shock. Fuckin’ hilarious. I won’t even tell you what stories came after that- trust me, you don’t want to know. (It was bad enough that I just asked my dad for some of whatever he was drinking. So he handed it over, and no one cared, and I remember thinking, “There’s no way that this is strong enough.” Tasted nasty anyway. Let him keep his rum- I’ll never get drunk, for fear I’ll be like them.) All of us nieces, nephews, and 2nd and 3rd generations kiddies are going to end up in therapy from these functions, I swear to God.
Shanny and co showed up eventually, and we heard some even crazier jizzazz (no one ever needs to hear about their family members’ sexuality.). It was fun when one person was screeching for Advil or some shit, not remembering taking it already (with alcohol, of course.). A 70-something year old lady was passed out in the corner after too many gins. But I give them all credit- I love them, regardless or drinks or not. It was a really great night. Yall should come next time.
So today’s Mothers’ Day. How many hangovers in my family? Another family party, with my mom’s side today. No drinks, lots of food though. My cousins are just as interesting though. Most of you know about Aidan’s rant when he was three years old, telling his parents that he’d bring a saw into their house when he got older, and chop off everyone’s head and steal all their money. <3 Happy Mothers’ Day.
So. What happens now?
<3