Snuggies at the Studios: A Birthday Story

Here are some things I don't usually do on the weekend: a) hug a rapper; b) wear false eyelashes so long I could thresh a wheatfield by blinking (or really, wear false eyelashes at all); and c) drink frozen cocktails dipped in liquid nitrogen by a reality TV star. Did all of those things happen last weekend? Yes, they did. It was very, "Toto, I don't think we're in Washington anymore." But in an awesome way, not a flying-monkeys-are-coming-to-make-me-their-bitch kind of way.

Don't get me wrong, I love Washington. And I'm sure I'm used to things that would make other people have that Oz-like feeling ("This is the longest presidential motorcade ever! Can't I cross the street yet?!"). But it's kind of like veggie pad thai. I love veggie pad thai. It's my staple Thai food. But sometimes, you want something different. You want the evil prince curry with fried tofu. Los Angeles is evil prince curry with fried tofu. But as it happens, I wasn't in Los Angeles for a change of scenery. I was there for a far more important reason: celebrating my cousin's 18th birthday!

If you've ever spent any time with my family, you know that they could make an appendectomy fun. I mean that literally. When family members have had surgery, we have been known to turn hospital rooms into party suites. (We're pretty sure restricted visiting hours are detrimental to recovery.) So for actual celebrations, like Ariana's birthday, just imagine. After all, 18 is big deal: (Insert Rock the Vote PSA here). Now, I'd like to go on and on here about how talented my cousins are, and how fabulous they were at the birthday extravaganza: Frankie was hilarious, and Ariana's voice is even more astonishingly awesome than this fish: (click here to see the fish). But there's a problem. I am so proud of them, and was so blown away by their show on Saturday, that I'm alternately gushy or speechless about them, and neither works very well in a blog. So sufficed to say, however wonderful they are on stage, they are just as amazing off it. I'd consider myself lucky to have them as cousins, even if they were tone-deaf garage collectors instead of brilliant performers.

In addition to their awesomeness, there were other recurring themes to the weekend. Here are three of them:

1. Nonna
Our grandmother is a very special woman. When you think of Nonna, don't picture an old granny sitting in rocking chair with her knitting, waiting for the roast to be done. Nonna is the matriarch. She wears stilettos and swears like a sailor. She has uncanny luck at three-card poker. She wears sunglasses indoors, because she can. She is Nonna, known universally by the one name, like the geriatric Madonna. She is, in short, kind of a badass. And after she was introduced to Patti LaBelle this weekend, a legend of the music world, Nonna came back to her seat and said, "She was thrilled to meet me." Later on in the night, she was asked not once, but twice, for her autograph. She signed "Nonna."

2. Snuggie vs. Slanket
A few of us got into a conversation, after a few cocktails, about the merits of the snuggie versus the slanket. (The party favor was a pink snuggie.) We ultimately decided that the snuggie wins, not because of any real benefits over the slanket (they're both just blankets with sleeves), but because the word "slanket" sounds either like a murder weapon or something from a porn movie. For four of us, "Slanket, baby, slanket" became the catchphrase of the night.

3. Interesting Answers to the Question "What do you do for a Living?"
In Washington, there aren't many answers to that question. Usually it's something like, "I'm a lawyer with [complicated acronym]." I discovered that in L.A., you get answers like, "Oh, I'm a figure skating coach" or "I'm a Ferrari broker" or "I'm a pet masseuse." (Two of those three were real answers I got this weekend. You guess which two.)

Now, before I finish this, I just want to state that I'm aware I've mentioned wheat twice in two posts, which is bizarre. But since I may have offended some wheat enthusiasts last week, I thought I'd include something to make amends. If wheat is your passion in life, take a look at this video, which shows wheat threshing, just as my Grande ancestors may have done: Party time in the wheatfield.

Nonna and Grandpa. If I told you how old they are, you wouldn't believe it. Also, Nonna would kill me.

The Birthday Girl and I before her party (I've exercised great restraint in not using her childhood nickname)

There are few genes more dominant on this earth than the Grande jawline and eye shape. Here are Frankie, Grandpa, and I displaying said characteristics.