Archive for February, 2010

Bunny Slippers, Cesar Milan & My Entourage

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

 ” I’m tough, ambitious, and I know exactly what I want.  If that makes me a bitch, okay.” ~ Madonna

The Madness Mom and Me blog is officially a “Black Book” member, so I guess it’s a great time for me to seek out my entourage so we can begin to review my list of demands (why not think ahead, right?).  OK,  I’ll start the list with a few simple must-haves for the green room:  Godiva dark chocolate truffles, fresh white tulips, fire-wood scented soy candles, sparkling Perrier  – with lime (don’t give me any bullsh!t lemons), Veuve Clicquot, vintage Elton John on tap and cute fluffy bunny slippers for my tootsies (when I’m not in my Louboutins).  Another must-have is Cesar Milan to work with my  insane-to-walk terriers (and my crackpot of a schnauzer is totally f*cked up to walk, believe me!)  See? That was simple – no snow white turtle doves, fuzzy kitten baskets or missing brown M&Ms.

green room bunny slippers

(Italian Lesson:  Entourage  =  def:  persone che accompagnano un VIP)

Cesar: I need your help!


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The Amazing Edible Legible Pancakes

Monday, February 22nd, 2010

 “The laziest man I ever met put popcorn in his pancakes so they would turn over by themselves.” ~ W.C. Fields

Nan's Pancakes

(Italian Lesson:  Pancake = frittella)

So, I just got off the phone with my Aunt Patti (yes, the one with the everyday f*ckin’ “colorful” conversation (as noted in the post “Aunt Patti’s Hair Nest and the Twitty Birds”) and she told me that my beloved and utterly sweet ninety two year old grandmother – whom I call “Nan” –  was noshing on pancakes yesterday morning for breakfast (OK, normal so far, right?) but, as she was enjoying her pancakes – and in her day, my Nan could whip up some amazing pancakes – Nan was tearing off little buttery bits and shoving them into a nearby book. 

When asked why the pancake pages were all-the-rage that particular day, Nan stated simply “so I have something to snack on later, of course”.  Alright Nan, but wouldn’t a little plate or Tupperware container do the trick ? Awwww, the things we may do at ninety two… I don’t think she was planning to read that book anyway –  I just hope she doesn’t try to cook it!

(You can read more about Nan’s quirky habits lovingly noted in this post: “Joe Pesci is my third cousin, you gotta F*%#!n’ problem with that?”

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Sadistic priest burns little girl with cigar!

Thursday, February 18th, 2010
“The first time I sang in the church choir, two hundred people changed their religion.” ~  Fred Allen  
Ash Wednesday is not for sissies!
“Come on Elizabeth, be a good Catholic girl and get in line for your ashes,” Mom and Dad would chant in church every year when Ash Wednesday rolled around.  The first time up, my thoughts turned to complete and utter terror  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” I yelled, “I don’t want that horrid priest to burn my forehead with a lit cigar, Ma!” 

(Italian Lesson: cigar smoker = fumatore di sigari)

I was only about seven or eight I suppose, so I had no idea exactly what was really going on in the front of St. Mary’s Church — except for the fact that I sure didn’t want my little forehead used as a friggin’ ashtray by Father Boyle! I can just HEAR the sizzling and smell my young burning flesh melting away – I’ll be scarred for life – NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  Even worse, this is what you’d call a “special occasion” mass,  meaning it didn’t even “count” for the week – ugh.  So now we have to head back to the pews to do it again for another hour on Sunday — damn! This church stuff was totally cramping my style! 
And all that talk about ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  Like I really want to hear that I’ll be cremated one day and turned to a grey powder – I have my whole life ahead of me for crying out loud! I guess I figured that the burning hot cigar was just the priest’s subtle, yet sadistic reminder, and I just wanted to take a pass — thanks anyway!
Line up, it's Ash time!

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Abbondanza, Meatballs and Dad’s Ambulance Ride

Friday, February 5th, 2010

“Spaghetti can be eaten most successfully if you inhale it like a vacuum cleaner.” ~ Sophia Loren

Yes, over the years my dad had to put up with a whole lot of crazy thanks to mom’s spirited “antics”, but he was not without his own classic gems.  Dad loved his Italian meals, and often got himself on mom’s “sh!t list”  for filling his plate with a mountainous heep of second helpings, especially if mom’s garlicy pasta sauce was on the menu.  ABBONDANZA!  as we say in Italian.

(Italian Lesson: ABBONDANZA! = abundance)

A few years ago, mom made one of her famously delicious spaghetti and meatball dinners, and just before she set the food on the kitchen table, my dad started to complain of severe chest pains.  His pain was not going anywhere, so mom called the ambulance to get him to the nearest emergency room.   Dad knew he should get to the hospital asap,  but that scent filling the house – the temptation of mom’s homemade sauce, those scrumptious little meatballs and fresh Italian bread were calling out his name,  “D-o-m-i-n-i-c, D-o-m-i-n-i-c”  — what was this sauce-lovin’ Sicilian to do?

Mom's spaghetti & meatballs

Well, Dominic knew!  When the ambulance arrived, he did what any other appreciative Italian husband would do — he asked mom to make him a “doggie bag” meal to bring along for the ride (and, hey, add some bread for dipping!) – this way he could enjoy his dinner while he waited to see the doc.  Needless to say, dad arrived home from the E.R. pretty hungry that night.

Have doggie bag will travel

Have doggie bag will travel

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