allishara

I had so much fun - well, from what I can remember... Jarmenio - You big animal - "stop tapping me - Im trying to get a drink!!" LOL - if I didnt love you soo much I would of hit you. Hope you had a wonderful B-day - I did..... Sexy - Never met a woman with more hats in my life!! LOL - thanks for letting us in so quick during that monsoon!! When are we going to dinner again maaaaaaaaaaan!?!? Hunnie - thanks for that RedBull - you da bomb JPDD - I wish I took a picture of you dancing on that thing - I would send it to your mother. Speaking of which - JP18 - dont listen to her!! I didnt say a word about your dancing - I didnt even see you besides the beginning of the night! (you were far from sober though when I did see you... lol) I love going out..... I should do it more....

Psssh - look at me with my very own post. I'm so cool. Cant wait for tonight - hope to see you guys there AND at Jen's crib. Should be a good time!! And Tara - MY hair??? Maaaaan - I would KILL for those curls you got!!! See you all later.... TO ME ... TO ME....

Goooodaaammnnnn HYPE!! What are you - Aaron Spelling's long lost son?!?

Was that the "squash it" episode?

Thanks everyone!! Hopefully I see you all this weekend since its like the entire tri-state area's B-day as well! Millenia - Dont worry - Mr. Narcolepsy is coming out!

Jar-Jar Binks!!! I'll see your ass tonight - tomorrow - and hopefully Sunday morning. But even though.......... have a wonderful birthday.....

Please try and come!! We'll have a great time!! You got pull at Abyss - see if you can get TKA to sing Happy B-day to me.

Soo NOT the words. Hmpff - maybe if it was mixed over some tribal you would remember!! At least you tried...... you should go!!

Ummm - how come no one is posting about the best act performing on Friday at Abyss?!?!?! Hello - TKA!!! How can you not love freestyle maaaaaaaaaaaaaaan?!?! "One way love girl we had something... girl you played me for a fool... should of held back allll my lovin... didn't know - there were no rules..."

Awww - you da bomb!! I'll be sure to send you over the pic as soon as I get it developed. Im sure you look lovely in it - Sexyindacity - watch that suede girl!! Armenio - your the best thing since sliced bread. Wuv u! Great time last night - sleeeeeeeepy

I cant go 5 seconds without nodding off. Shoot me.

LOL - Cafe' Rock?

WHAT AM I A MIRAGE?!?! Blood relatives cant get no love up in this peace?

Scorpio's in da hiz-ouce. How old are you now Guesepe?.... 36?.... (who am I to talk - Im like 16)

WOW - Im surprised you remembered your password to your account!! Your so smart. Email me.

I wish!! But this birds flyin solo. This weekend he'll be with me. Are you working the door again? They should have laws against that in the winter time - you're going to have icicles hanging from your nose.

Im going!..

Me neither!! HAHA!!

It wouldnt happen to be SunGodess - would it? Thats who I got it from!! LOL.

I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see how an Italian family spends the holidays. I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like partridges and pear trees. So, I was wrong. Sue me. I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the invitation. "I know these family things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve." "Sounds fine to me," Karen said. I had only known my mother for 31 years when I told her I'd be bringing Karen with me. "She's a very nice girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you." "Sounds fine to me," my mother said. And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two sounds-fine-to-me. What more could I want? I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season - an Italian woman's raison d'etre. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian women live for. I should also point out, I suppose, that when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being. I brought her anyway. 7p.m. - we arrive . Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour waiting for the other guests to show up. During that half hour, my mother grills Karen like a cheeseburger and cannily determines that Karen does not clean, cook, or bake. My father is equally observant. He pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being." 7:30p.m. - Others arrive. Uncle Ziti walks in with my Aunt Mafalde, assorted kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, salami, prosciutto, provolone, and anchovies. When I offer to make Karen's plate she says, "Thank you. But none of those things, okay?" She points to the anchovies. "You don't like anchovies?" I ask. "I don't like fish," Karen announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of foods-that-swim are baking, broiling and simmering in the next room. My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things are getting uncomfortable. Aunt Mafalde asks Karen what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Karen says, "Knockwurst." My father, who is still staring in a daze, at Karen's chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur, "Knockers?" My mother kicks him so hard he gets a blood clot. None of this is turning out the way I'd hoped. 8:00p.m. - Second course. The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the table. Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks me to join her in the kitchen. I take my "Merry Christmas" napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen. "I don't want to start any trouble," my mother says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face." "Come on," I tell her. "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants." My mother considers the situation, then nods. As I turn to walk back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with this tramp?" "She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks." "Well, it's your life", she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you." 8:30p.m. - More fish. My stomach is knotted like one of those macramé plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold. All the women get up to clear away the spaghetti dishes, except for Karen, who, instead, lights a cigarette. "Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest. Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks. "Dear, you don't have to do that," my mother tells her, smiling painfully. "Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks on the sink. As she reenters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops." I vaguely remember that line from Torch Song Trilogy. "Whoops?" No. "Whoops is when you fall down an elevator shaft." More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy, like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you always see in the sixth row of a funeral home. Aunt Mafalde does the same. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Uncle Ziti doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth. 10:00p.m. - Coffee, dessert. Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face with cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up cannoli and slaps my mother with it. "This is fun," Karen says. Fun? No. Fun is when you fall down an elevator shaft. But, amazingly, everyone is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer - even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs and says, "Get this bitch out of my house." Sounds fine to me. THE END

LOSER!!

They must know you by name at the movie theatre. I dont know what movie your talking about. Dont you mean The Ring?

Hey you! Where have you been maaang! You and your man are too cool for us now, ehh?? LOL - we need another night out!

I'd post a pic but Im computer illiterate. It was nice meeting you too Neena!!

Stardo - that was the funniest thing!! I have to meet Perns now!