My family eats too much.
And we're loud.
Those are the two main revelations that came out of our memorial day weekend. We ate ourselves blind (literally, I felt like I had double vision when we got in the car to drive back) and all tried to yell over one another until it was one big ball of screaming Italians like in the cartoons when they show a huge dustball moving around with arms and legs sticking out of it. That's how we function, apparently. And since our cousins were visiting from various states, it was an even larger ball of crazy than usual (to be fair, they're totally sane in comparison).
Oh, and we all stare at the baby, coo at him, take a million pictures of everything he does and then my favorite - break into song to make him laugh (while mangling the lyrics, of course). I would LOVE to hear the internal monologue that kid has when some one is an inch from his face squealing "I see you. I see you!!" He's probably thinking "No sh*t Einstein, I'm right here". Then there is the song that my parents have made up for him that is totally nonsensical and the lyrics keep changing to it every time they sing it. It's set to the tune of "Where is Thumbkin?", except they use his name instead (but I'll protect his wee little baby identity and keep him anonymous) and then add too many extra words and syllables and generally make my ears bleed. I think my brother in law's head is going to explode every time they sing it, screw waterboarding - the CIA should learn the lyrics to this song and use it to torture people instead. Way more effective, if you ask me.
And now I'm dragging my feet through this week, eagerly anticipating the wedding of my best friend on Saturday. I get a break from Romper Room on Friday to head home for the rehearsal dinner, and then it's Nuptial-fest '09 all weekend, wohoooooo! The groom is from West Virginia, apparently many of his friends are miners (yes, like actual people who work in a mine shaft, I didn't realize people did that outside of Zoolander), and her family is Italian, so this should be AMAZING to watch, I can't wait. Plus, my date will be a rotating cycle of my 3 single female friends, and I have to stand at the altar next to fitness barbie (aka the bride, who will no doubt look breathtaking) wearing my strapless dress that shows off just the right amount of armpit fat. Can we say "open bar"????? I tease, I'm completely ecstatic for it and kind of in shock, I think somewhere deep down I thought she'd live in NYC forever and we'd have ambiguously lesbian frozen yogurt dates every Friday night until we were 45. Sigh...
Either way, pictures will be taken and the revolution will be televised. Or at least, blogged about. However, my mom and dad will also be there so I can't get too cra-zazy, my mom is horrified by women drinking beer straight out of the bottle so it shouldn't take much to blow her mind early in the night. I guess imitating America's Best Dance Crew at the reception or making jokes about the bride's ex boyfriends is out of the question, damn.
Still waiting for the upswing...
::renata::
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