Tuesday, April 14, 2009

The Penitent Douche Shall Pass: An Easter Story

I am from New Jersey, so it should be fairly obvious that I am both Italian and raised Catholic. Thus, Easter is the biggest spectacular of the year! We have family dinner, which usually involves getting trashed to be able to stomach relatives and something offensive happening. This particular story revolves around my grandfather. My grandfather is cooler than Shaft and Prince. He is the coolest muthafucka ever. BUT, he does not drink often.

We went to dinner at an upscale restaurant (this being the first mistake) and had wine. My grandfather, hammering down two glasses within 20 minutes, was exhibiting the initial signs of drunkenness. Signs include talking about World War II and major league baseball players on “dope.” Fifteen minutes into a diatribe about Daryl Strawberry’s deep involvement in NYC drug trafficking, my grandfather flags down the waiter and asks for sambuca and a bottle of Bud. My grandmother yells out “what are you crazy?!? They don’t have Bud, you act like an idiot," to which the waiter replies “No, we don't have Budweiser, but I have a lovely selection of beers, such as Amstel Light and Sam Adams.” My grandfather’s dessert drink was then nixed by my mother, our beloved matriarch and well-known tyrant. At one point, I tried to melt her black heart by saying “but he is 91 Mom, for Christ’s sake, he deserves it!” She looked at me as if I was someone who took dirty pictures of 5 year olds. I then shut up for the rest of the meal.

Before leaving, we had to stop at the coat check. While trying to get his jacket, my grandfather fell head-first into the coat check. My grandmother, who at this point is acting a little bit like a golden retriever from the wine, didn’t notice. My grandfather regained his balance with the help of the manager of the restaurant, took a crisp Andrew Jackson out of his wallet, and tried to hand it to the manager, saying “Take this and don’t tell the small lady behind us what happened," clearly referencing my grandmother. My grandfather would later attempt to pay someone off again at a banquet hall when he walked into a 50th Anniversary party while trying to find my cousin’s Christening, but that story is for another time and place. Namely next week when I have no new material.

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