Monday, April 5, 2004


Rob was flabbergasted when I told him i'm sitting home after going to the gym and eating pasta whilst I watch wrestling. If you dont know, pasta is illegal to eat on passover - we decided we should invent Mazta - pasta, made out of matzoh - so Jews all over the world could delight in such dishes as Mazta with shrimp fra diablo and Mazta with White Clam Sauce...

the only problem would be keeping it from turning into a sticky, moist mountain of paper maiche-like gunk when we boil it in water and then drain it

Masta (and Mazta) - trademark pending

Rock On,


Friday, April 2, 2004

The Leper Table

Okay - wanna take a break from writing my screenplay (so far today I've written half a page...seriously, I've erased almost as much prior stuff as I've written...ack) so I'm gonna tell y'all about the wedding I went to a couple of Sundays ago (why? cause i may wanna use it if i write a story about family)....

Before i do though, I think a new movie that came out today has given me an idea of a baby name if and when the time comes...that's right...Hellboy.

ANYWAY, for those that don't know, I'm pretty much estranged from my whole family besides my mom and bro. Long story but my first cousin, whom I haven't seen in 10-12 years got maddied (married?...YES MADDIED!!) last weekend and in the interest of family harmony, my bro and I dragged our better half's along.
First of all, it was a Sunday Night in Long Island...Sunday night weddings should be illegal - I wont even argue this point - secondly, Bronwen and I had to drag our dressed-up carcasses to the wedding via subway, bus, and then car (it was like a John Hughes film). Nothing like taking a subway on a Sunday while there's your favorite team is playin in the NCAA tournament to go to a wedding that you don't wanna go to. Not good times...definately not good times.

Okay - let's skip to....We're at the wedding.

So, we're at the wedding - The five of us (mom too) are standing in our own little corner before the temple doors are opened. Looking over the crowd, it was apparently a theme wedding - Two Hundred Jews, A Trinidadian (my bro's wife) and an Irish Girl (my chick).
My uncle (mom's bro and father of the bride) sees us and comes over. Keep in mind I haven't seen the guy in ten years. Here's the conversation after the intro's...
Me: Congratulations!
Him: Thanks! So whatcha been up to?
Me: Same old...still workin' in Accounting...whats new with you..besides Rebecca's wedding?
Him: Nothin' really
Me: -----------------
Him: -------------------
Us: ----------------------
Him: So I guess I should mingle
Me: Oh, right...sure - see ya layta.

And mind you, I like my uncle - forget about having a rap with chicks..i don't even have a rap with my own family.

This older gent comes over with a woman - my mom greets him as my Aunt's bro - he tells me he hasn't seen me since I was this high (and he made the hand motion indicating little boy height) - he tell told me that I wont remember his wife since this is his second wife - my bro and i looked at each other and couldn't suppress a "Dude-we-dont-even-remember-YOU" laugh
He leaves and this older woman comes over - my mom asks if I remember Auntie Ann - my face flashes recognition as I said, "Sure I remember Aunt Ann." In my mind I was thinking about my grandmother's sister, who was Aunt Ann...but no, this wasn't who my mom was talking about. "This is your Aunt Ann." Huh, I thought while I said, "Oh, Hi!" She told me she hasn't seen me since I was this high (and she made the hand motion indicating little boy height)

The ceremony - it was okay - usual stuff - most of the male members of the wedding party were less than 30, all were Jewish, most were bald, and half were oddly enough, named "Jason."

ANYWAY, let's skip to the cocktail hour. I'm at the bar and The Imposter Aunt Ann is next to me ...I'm ordering a pink lady and a beer while the "Aunt Ann" is drinking scotch. Out of nowhere she says, "Yeah, so Fritz left me." After telling her "that sucks" she went on and on about him leaving her for a younger woman. Bronwen came over at this point - I was hoping she'd save me but she just took her beer - leaving me with my pink lady and "Aunt Ann" (the pink lady is a joke...just fer comedic effect..I was actually having an Appletini)
cocktail hour food was awesome by the way - caviar - mountains of chicken francais, veal, sushi, etc - jus' crazy

So we're goin' into the party room...reception room...dinner room...whatever - and we get out table numbers - my bro sees he's at Table 16..I look at my card and tell him, "So sorree, I'm at Table 1" - his face drops and asks, "You serious?" "Nah...16."

We both wondered where Table 16 was and who exactly we'd be sitting with - we assumed we'd be sitting in the dark recesses of the place, barely able to hear the band, and sitting with retards and people from work they felt they had to invite (not thinking they'd actually come). So we walked to Table 16.

They sat us in the dark recesses of the place, barely able to hear the band, and sitting with mentally challenged realtives and people from work they felt they had to invite (not thinking they'd actually come) - okay, I'm lying - they weren't mentally challenged - Bronwen thinks the twins sitting next to me had CP - the dude sitting right next to me kept asking me what was on his plate - it went something like this...
Him: What's this?
Me: Salad.
Him: What's this?
Me: Tuna
Him: What's this?
Me: A fork
Naturally being the UnsociaBlooms (copyright pending) - my bro and I didn't talk to anyone else at the table. Of course Bronwen had to introduce herself to CP dude next to me, necessitating my intro as well. I was just happy he didn't spit when talking.

Eventually, my Aunt, the mother of the groom came over and I went immediately into Wedding Voice...
Me: Congratulations!
Her: (I couldn't make out what she said)
Me: So I guess now ya just gotta wait for babies!
Her: (again, no idea)
Me: -------
Her: -----
Table: ---------
Her: See y'all later
Table: Bye!
Once again, I was having Blind Date interview flashbacks when I talking and I couldn't even believe what I was saying.

Thankfully, my bro has the perfect Get-Out-Of-Jail Early card (I guess that would be "parole") with his "Yeah, we gotta go and relieve the baby sitter" - we were out of there by ten, but not before we had to awkwardly cut into my niece's conversation since we had to say our good-bye's - and I got to tell Brian (the new hubby) that the last time I saw Rebecca, she was this high (and I made the hand motion indicating little girls height).

Rock On,