Last Saturday at this time, I was prepping for what was to be the first family party in my new house, and also the greatest Cinco de Mayo party of all time. Before I go any further, I should explain that my family parties are not typical tedious family parties. Nope. I am the youngest of four children, and was tortured and taught to drink and swear by three rowdy older brothers. So in my family, parties involve a lot of whiskey, drunken singing, and, inevitably, someone sets something on fire. Actually, that’s what they USED to involve.
At 5pm last Saturday, things were looking promising. Everyone was on time for once, the Coronitas were flowing, taco remnants were flying, chips were being tossed into mouths from across the room. Then… 9pm came. I looked around, and suddenly, one brother was asleep on the couch, one brother was playing on my laptop (hopefully not porn, because gross), and the other brother was sitting in a stupor at the dining room table discussing the latest items on clearance at Walgreens with his wife. I took this all in, and then entered a dream-like trance, in which everyone was frozen in time, except for me, and I was running around in a sombrero, shaking maracas in their faces (and no, that’s not a euphemism for my boobs, because gross) and yelling at them in rapid Spanish (because I like to be ethnic holiday appropriate during my dream sequences), asking what the hell happened to them. This is not the family I know! You’re TIRED?!?! There is no tired in Cinco de Mayo! Upon exiting my weird Telemundo dream-like trance, I found everyone packing to go home. By 10pm, I was vacuuming, pulling taco meat out of a sink drain, slightly intoxicated, and disappointed.
This getting old thing’s a real pain in the ass.
I did, however, manage to have some fun with my nieces and nephew. I told them to give me sexy, and this is what I got:
Yeah… Maybe we’ve still got it.