BEDA, Day 16: My crazy family, party nonsense, and Margaritaville.

Oh-my-good-lordy-hot-diggity-dawg, am I ever TIRED TODAY. WOW.

Here is a brief re-telling of Pepe's party.

So, we (the moms and my sister) leave for Pepe's house at a bit before 2pm, after scouring the house for EVERYthing that we might need for the party, cooking loads of food (my family is Italian*/French; we love to eat), packing up Pepe's truck with chairs, tables, coolers and more, and getting ourselves all gussied up for a party. All morning, this getting-everything-ready took us.

So we get there, at 2 in the afternoon. Keep in mind, the party starts at 6:30, so we're there pretty damn early.

We UNPACK the truck, set up all the tables, move all the patio furniture down to the lawn, move the tables up to the patio, decorate the yard with decor (smile-faces, peace signs, flowers) left over from a Spring Fling (Homeschool prom) two years ago, and start assembling food and getting everything all set.

Then, people start arriving. It's not 6:30 yet. Not even close. These people are my Pepe's partner, (who I shall call J.U.)'s (yes, he's gay) family. I don't really know any of them. So they congregate over at a table and we continue to run around like chickens missing heads.

Finally, we are all set up.

So, I'm crashed out on Pepe's couch in the living room, when one of J.U.'s family/friends come in the room. He turns to me and says "Hola". (Did I mention that J.U. is from Puerto Rico? No? Well, he is.)
So I say "Hi" back, and turn back to look out the window, like I was before, not really attempting conversation.
Then, he says "Como estas**?". My thoughts went a little like this: "Oh god, what does that mean, now he's looking at me like he wants a reply, and I don't know any spanish, oh wait I guess I do, a bit, but what does como estas mean, is it how are you? yeah, I think that's right, oh well, I'll say that I'm good."

I say "Good." He nods and walks away.

So I go outside, (now the party's started) and I settle down in a chair in the "eldery woman" area. I don't know why, but they flock together, like seagulls or something. There I am, with my very cynical Grandma on one side, next to her is my Great Aunt P. or as I call her, Aunt P. Aunt P is kinda-sorta crazy. I love that woman to death, but she's nuts. She glued a christmas tree upside down on her cealing one year, because she lacked floor space. Did I mention that she's 90?

I can't make this stuff up.

So, on my OTHER side, there's M.M, who is Pepe's next-door nieghbor, and the lady who did the chicken dance with me.
And then there's Aunt J, who is really Great Aunt J, but what the hell. Aunt J is the one who looked at my sister and said "skinny ankles" last year. Yep.

Oh family, how you amuse me.

So, to kick-start the conversation, I say "Grandma, guess what I'm doing this August?" She obviously has no clue, so I tell her: "I'm doing Blog Every Day August" then I stop and realize something "Do you know what a blog is?" To which she replies "It's something on the computer, isn't it?"

I love her. No matter what I'm doing, or if she even knows what the hell it is that I'm doing, she's right behind it, %110.


So, this story isn't mine, I wasn't there. It's my sister's. Credit must be given, where credit is due. Taken DIRECTLY from V's account.



"So, Aunt P was talking about how she couldn't live without Wal-Mart, J said she was boycotting it, and P said something about "then you certainly must go to target".
I told her we were boycotting that to, and she asked why, so I told her about Tom Emmer***, and she said "the church has a problem with gay people, I never have, when they make donations they should think 'are there more Christian people or are there more of the gays?'" And then she was like, "probably more gays".

And then there was a thoughtful silence.

And then she said, "and there are even some Christian gays. R's**** sister, for one."
So, she starts listing gay people, like as if to say, "Oh, I know gay people, let me make a LIST!"

She (Aunt P) mentioned some random people I don't know, and then she said "your mother, my son, and even T." (T is my Pepe)

Aunt J said "So, T is gay."

So, Aunt P said "I assume so, he seems to get along with J.U. very well. I often wondered...I mean to say, there's only one bedroom."

J said "doesn't bother me"

Aunt P said "doesn't bother me either. I don't know if he calls himself 'gay' but he certainly is, I guess."

They both nodded conspiratorially.

Sat in silence, then changed the subject."


Huzzah for V, eh? Lovely tale, that.


So, I ended up doing karaoke. I was not surprised about that. I sung "All Star" three Madonna songs (Happy Birthday, Madonna, by the way!), "Love Shack", "Summer Nights", and Margaritaville. TWICE. There aren't many songs I dislike more than Margaritaville. SO ANNOYING, but I knew the words, and I could keep up with the words and everyone else was singing...There were a few others, but I have forgotten the titles. Suffice it to say that I was an integral part of the karaoke.


That's the highlights from the party. Hope you enjoyed. I know it was a tad long, forgive me.

Goodnight/goodmorning/good-whenever-you-read-this,

~Whimsy


*Sicilian, actually, but hey.

** Can't spell Spanish, forgive me.

*** See this article.

**** R is one of my mums.

BEDA, Day 14: "Sweet Jesus I love me some honky-tonk."

Every August, my Pepe* has a party.

It's a birthday party that "he" (read "my family") puts on. He put it on the first year for his 69th birthday, I do believe. The next year, he decided not to, because turning 70 was just weird for him. From then to now, we've held the party for him.

That's where I am today.

He hires a band to play, and everyone brings food, and we have a party on the lawn.
I always have fun.

May I just say that the average median age for the partygoers at this party is about my mom's age, probably even older. There are practically NO younger people at the party.

Almost every year, I end up doing the chicken dance with Pepe's elderly neighbors and my moms. I laugh. A LOT.

My Pepe likes country music. I do not. I tolerate it, because I know it makes him happy. I just can't stand the "Mah wife left me/ She took mah dawg/ Now I ain't got no money/ So why not go to a hoedown / Sweet Jesus I love me some honky-tonk."
That is my personal hell. Not kidding. Okay, maybe my personal hell would be all my family and friends dead, and myself being experimented on by a group of mad scientests, but there would certainly be country music in the background.

So we have this party, where my family and I are working the entire time, the live band is playing the chicken dance and country music, and almost all the guests are twice my age or older.

Somehow, this is splendidly fun.

Last year, there was karaoke. Let me tell you, reader-folk, I don't sing. Correction. I love to sing, I do it often, but I do not sing WELL. I can sing in an alto range (or lower; I prefer to sing the guy's part in most duets), but going up to a soprano or anything above that is just...bad.

Somehow, I ended up singing We Are Family, Holiday and Matirial Girl. All those songs are in the higher range. It was a blast.

Also, EVERY YEAR, Pepe invites all these people who I have no clue who they are. Because he thinks that my sister and I walk on water, we are introduced to them. Every year. Even if we met them last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.

Also, I have a great-aunt who is hyper-critical of everyone. Last year, (no lie) she looked at my sister and said "...Skinny legs." I know that I will either be too skinny, or not skinny enough. Oh yes.

One year, another aunt asked me if I had "become a woman yet". Right there, during the party. Took all I had not to crack up laughing.

So, my lovelies, that is why I am writing this blog a day early. So I can fully enjoy the hilarity that is my Pepe's party.

I'm probably off dancing, or eating, or singing karaoke.

~Whimsy

* Pepe means Grandpa. ^_^