Da Family

K, L, and I spent the weekend in Philly for Phillygirl's bachelorette party/bridal shower. We've anticipated the event for weeks, wondering whether "da family" would be as advertised. First off, we did some spa stuff at a salon in the northern suburbs of Philly, where Phillygirl's extended family has moved recently from the city. Lest you think loud, brash Italianess is confined to Phillygirl's family, the salon was full of Phillygirls getting their weekly waxing, manicures, pedicures, or facials. I was fully expecting Marissa Tormei to walk in at any moment or perhaps that we were on the set of My Cousin Vinny's Big Fat Wedding.

Onto the the cookout at Phillygirl's aunt's house, where we met her assorted cousins and aunts and Aunt Pat. Although I am not sure how we came on the subject of female body hair, Aunt Pat informed us toward the end of the cookout that her south pole has lost tufts of hair recently. Our code for her thereafter was Patches. Not to be outdone, Phillygirl showed us her newly waxed south pole at her mother's house because, she explained, "it looks fuckin' good." Phillygirl's mom, who looks to be in her forties but sounds about eighty, a result of her fierce smoking habit, appeared and told her to get her fat ass off the floor and downstairs. Little did she realize that L was lying on the floor, not Phillygirl. Alas, embarrasment is not a word in the family lexicon.

L had a headache, which had nothing to do with, I'm guessing, the volume or velocity at which Phillygirl's family engages in conversation. It was less conversation that a verbal free-for-all which, of course, a soft talker like me just hands out shower towels to the real athletes. Anyway, L took an Advil, an aspirin, and a Percocet courtesy of the family pharmacy. She threw up a few hours later, but for those blissful few hours, she was headache-free.

After we settled, the bridal shower guests showed up. We were disappointed that Patches did not attend. Phillygirl's Dad cooked three huge bowls of meatball/sausage spaghetti. Phillybirl opened more gifts, and the subject turned to breasts and nasty women who were not present, you know, the usual girl stuff. K and I went to bed early, and then the next day we sauntered into Philly for a few touristy things. My highlight? Cerealities, a restaurant on the UPenn campus that serves only breakfast cereal. I had a custom box of cereal made to go, which consists of equal parts Count Chocula, Trix, Kix, Lucky Charms, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Oat Squares, Apple Jacks, and Froot Loops. It is the bomb. I hope I don't lapse into a diabetic coma today. After lunch, L and Phillygirl went to the Mütter Museum of Medical Oddities, but K and I had to get back to Baltimore before the pharmacy closed. Phillygirl joined us later in the evening for crabs on the deck. It was a somehow fitting end to the weekend, although if I hear about body parts, body processes, or the phrases "beating my ear off" or "monkey arms" again, it will be too soon.