Sunday, June 29

But I Don't Like Fish

I was watching the E! Channel tonight (yes I watch E!. Cut me a break, I'm on vacation and I took my brain with me) and I was drinking some iced tea (sweetened, with lemon, please). The show, the name of which I forget, flashed on a service provided in Los Angeles called, are you ready?

HUMAN SUSHI PLATE.


I was in the middle of a mouthful and I swallowed it kind of weird and choked a little.

A HUMAN SUSHI PLATE?



Esqueese me?

Yes, apparently, the angelinos have become bored with eating off of ceramic and glass and now feel the need to eat off of the human body. At $900 an hour for a male and female, um, plate. I'm sure this is appealing to men who like to look at a good-looking female body with bodacious tatas covered with... fish, but even with a buff man with butt cheeks you can bounce a quarter off of as my plate, this does nothing for me but make me say "ick!"

Further investigation revealed that this is Japanese in origin (those horny Japanese!) but nonetheless, all that comes to mind is UNSANITARY.
First of all, how clean is this dish? Where was it before it became service for 12?


Secondly, what if the dish is, you know, flatulent? Then it has to clench to suppress the flatulence and the sushi slides into prohibited areas. Or what if the dish has to sneeze or cough? Or falls asleep?




Thirdly, why sushi? The innuendo is not lost on me, but seriously. If you know me or have been reading this blog, you know that I am possibly the only Italian in the world who doesn't eat most seafood (or drink wine). So the idea of picking raw fish out of a stranger's potentially lint-filled belly button is just not appealing to me. Now, you put a little veal in a delicate marsala sauce with a side of risotto on there and you just might get me to dig in, but sushi? No thanks.

And you can't pick the sushi off the human plate with a fork because you'll poke the hell out of the plate (and make the plate bleed- gross!), so you have to use chopsticks.

I guess I've lived in a small town too long, because this is just straight up CRAZEEEEE to me.

I Got Your Home-Made Pasta Ovah He'

So, the family made the half-mile trek to Pec and Joe ovah deh's house last night for a little dinnah. A little dinnah? It was a freakin' gourmet spread ovah deh!

Joe Ovah Deh (that's his name, legally, now) cooks.

And if you missed previous posts, I mean COOKS. Pec says not only in the kitchen (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, if ya know what I'm sayin'.) He stood right there with his pasta dough and fed it through his pasta maker, making spaghetti. He had marinara cooking on the stove, had the mixture for the bruschetta ready, was about to prepare a baby leaf salad and of course, he had his very special meatballs already made. After finishing the pasta-making, Joe went and grilled the bread for the bruschetta appetizer, which was accompanied by Steph's favorite soprasatta and provolone (with a BITE!). Somehow, the gravy and the meatballs tasted almost exactly like my paternal grandmother's recipe, which was always very different from my mom and Nonna's gravy and meatballs- a little spicier, but always recognizable. I was temporarily transported back in time to when I was a teenager, eating at my grandmother Lena's house. (She died when I was 16 at the age of 69.) It was kind of weird.

For dessert Pec brought out CANOOLS. Madon! Just what I need! Unfortunately, since Joe Ova Deh did not make the canools, I did not try one. I heard they were very good, regardless.

So, Pec and Joe O.D., thanks for a super delicious dinner and some really hilarious conversation. Next one is Wal-Mart pasta and Ragú at Fanelli's! No need to bring agiduh, I'll supply it! ;)

Wednesday, June 25

Fresh Prince

Today my friend Julio and I (he's the one who abandoned me, throwing me to the wolves by leaving PA to pursue his doctorate at Georgetown. BIG WHOOP!) entertained ourselves by exchanging our favorite lines from The Fresh Prince. I still watch the re-runs because they make me laugh, still! We used to annoy people at work by reciting these and then laughing. Nobody else appreciated this discussion but man, did we crack up.

So here are some of the best lines from the show. If you are a fan I'm sure you remember.

Carlton: "For a long time it gave me nightmares, witnessing an injustice like that... It's a constant reminder of just how unfair this world can be... I can still hear them taunting him...”Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!"... I mean, WHY COULDN'T THEY JUST GIVE HIM SOME CEREAL?"

Will: "I'm stuck in a basement, sittin' on a tricycle, girl gettin' on my nerves; Goin' outta my mind, I thought she was fine, don't know if her body is hers."

Dr. Hoover--"Fine. Speaking as a doctor, I think your daughter should be heavily sedated and immediately institutionalized."
Uncle Phil--"Well speaking as a lawyer, I can only say that your daughter fits the criminal profile to a T, right down to the sloping forehead, and the wide jaws suitable for grains and small rodents! "
Dr. Hoover: "I think you have her confused with your momma!"


Janet: "I need more ice."
Carlton: "You need more ice, *what*? "
Janet: "I need more ice in my warm soda. "

[Uncle Phil just grounded Will and took away all of his privileges]
Will: "Why don't you just do me like Kunta Kinte and cut off my foot? "

Will looking in mirror: "Jean Claude Van Dam I'm fine!"

Carlton: "So, Dad, how do you feel?"
Phillip Banks, wearing a toupée: "I feel like Little Richard: Attorney at Law."
Geoffrey: "Dinner is served. A-Whop-Bop-Aloobop-A-Wop-Bam-Boom!"

Kayla: You're so ugly, your momma had to tie a pork chop around your neck just so the dog would play with you.
Will: You're so ugly, your momma had to feed you with a slingshot.

Tyriq: "He sold me a fake Rolex."
Jazz (to Will, referring to Tyriq): "He paid with a fake $20."
Will (To Tyriq): "Now, first of all. You should have known it was fake when you saw that the warranty was only for two hours."
Will (To Jazz): "And you should have known the Jackson on the $20 ain't Jermaine."

Saturday, June 21

My Idol

I just caught some of the Daytime Emmies. I don't watch soaps anymore and I rarely am able to watch daytime programming except in the summer, so the Daytime Emmies just happened to be there when I changed channels tonight, ergo, I don't care about them.

But I did catch Susan Lucci and she just popped up on my Yahoo welcome screen. Wow. I used to watch All My Children in college and until Barney took over my television 12 years ago, and I have always thought she is a gorgeous woman.

But now she is a SIXTY-TWO year old gorgeous woman. She is a tiny little thing, too. Obviously looking great is her bread and butter, but how many 62 year-old women look like THIS?


It's hard work to look that good at any age, let alone 62! Sure, some think she may have had work done, which I doubt because she doesn't have any telltale signs, but if she did, she had a great surgeon because she doesn't all pulled and fake. She actually looks better than she did when she started on All My Children in 1970.


When you think about all that women have to do to look decent- not even stars, just regular women, it's exhausting. Shaving, waxing, plucking, hair-dying, manicuring, pedicuring, dieting, teeth-whitening, zit-covering, applying make-up... Good Lord I'm exhausted just typing it! And none of that guarantees us to look anywhere near as good as Susan Lucci on a bad day at SIXTY-TWO YEARS OLD.

Susan Lucci, I don't care how long it took you to win an Emmy- you are my idol.

This post made under the influence of Ambien but I mean every word.

Friday, June 13

AGIDUH



"Agiduh" is not fun. It comes in two varieties. It is spelled "acidez," but of course we don't say "Ah-chee-des." Duh. We say AGIDUH.

Agiduh is heartburn, acid. We use it like this:



1) After we eat something which causes heartburn or indigestion. The remedy for this in my family is a glass of Brioschi. Brioschi is little pieces of slightly lemon-flavored effervescent agiduh relief that you put in water and drink. It tickles your nose if you drink it while it is still bubbly. :)



2) When you are aggravated, you get agiduh. Your spouse, your kids, your job, waiting in long lines, just about anything that makes your blood simmer can cause you frustration which can then fall under the category of AGIDUH. When this happens, you MUST tell someone, or just say it out loud. Everyone has to know you are getting agiduh or that agiduh is impending. Otherwise, the effect is lost. "You kids better knock it off, you're giving me AGIDUH!" No one wants to give Mom agiduh!

Wednesday, June 11

Happy Birthday Dad!

Today my father turned three quarters of a century old. I wish him at least another quarter and much good health with which to enjoy those years.


I have written about my dad before, because he has had a big influence on my morality (as has my mother) but also on my political understanding and views.

My dad is super-conservative. When I was a kid, I never realized that his views had a label. I debated some of those views as I got older and thought I knew more than he, but I eventually came to my own conclusions about them and with the exception of a few, I share those views.

Growing up, my sister and I knew the words "pinko" and "commie" as part of our vernacular. Patriotism was instilled in us from the time we learned that an American flag is not a toy, and that people died to allow us to live the way we do. When I was a senior in high school, my dad and I, both Stallone fans, went to see Rambo, First Blood, Part II, where Rambo rescues the POW's in Vietnam. That sparked great coversations about history and communism and I learned words like "black pajamas," and finally realized why my parents would not watch a Jane Fonda movie.

A veteran of the army who served in Germany after WWII, my dad is a treasure trove of historical knowledge. All of what I learned about that war and that period of history comes from my father, not from my junior year history class. (Although I do remember the word "blitzkrieg," but that's about it.)

It's not just because of politics that I hold my dad in such high regard. It's for his deternination, his intelligence, his sense of humor, honesty and his tremendous love for me that I love him so much. It's for the way he broke the news to me that my goldfish died when I was five, and shed some tears with me. It's for the way he taught me that being silly makes you feel good, but never at the dinner table. It's how he drove me to and from a friend's house or a dance at night even though he was exhausted after work. It's the way he showed me that living a honest and clean life is the only way to live and that nothing is more important than family. It's because I never heard my dad say an off-color word- ever- because he has too much respect for women to say a dirty word in their presence.

So, for all he taught me, and for all he means to me, Happy Birthday to my father. I am fortunate and grateful to have you as my dad.