When I was little, my cousin Gerard would always bring his girlfriend over to our house. Of course, it was a new girl each visit, and let's just say there were many visits (many... many... many.). Now he's finally decided to settle down with my wonderful new cousin Stephania. His first words to me minutes before his wedding: "I threw up an hour ago."
I know what you're thinking: the black dress. Well Stephanie has been with my cousin for 5 years and is 7 months pregnant. Who are they fucking kidding?
I guess now I should also mention that Gerard and Stephanie had been engaged for well over a year and the hurricanes postponed their wedding. This wasn't a cover-up wedding, if that's what you were thinking. And if that's what you were thinking, well yeah I would have thought the same about your cousin.
Every person I show this picture to says the same thing: your family looks so mafia. Well first of all, thank you. Second, we have a vowel at the end of our name; we're not gonna pass off as The Smiths. Third, there is no mafia.
My uncle is 65 years old and still sticks out his tongue to the camera. This is what I'm passing on to my children.
See Mom, this is what happens when you don't count "1, 2, 3" before taking a picture: the two kids make fun of their dad's signature expression in pictures, but the master's not ready to perform. He looks all serious. That's not my dad. I mean, did you just see my uncle in the last photo? We're no formal "everyone look slightly to the left" portrait family.
The middle two are totally blasted in this picture and trying to hide it. My cousin Vicki would periodically update me on which part of her body just went numb. She later lectured me for grinding with a 35-year-old friend of the bride I met on the dance floor because "you're still 5 years old to me and you can't be old enough to do that!" Then I showed her what her 15-year-old daughter was doing. I got off the hook really quickly.
I'm on about drink #10 by this point (God bless the open bar!). I'll never tell my family what Gerard whispered to me after this photo, but let's just say the wisdom has been passed, and I think all my problems have been solved.
Did I mention that in two months, little Anthony is coming out of my new cousin? That's right, he's gonna have my name, so it's my responsibility to tell him that before his mom there was Sasha, and Lisa, and Christine, and Amanda, and the one that was my age, and Samantha, and the Puerto Rican one that was a complete bitch, and Lisa again, and... eh, maybe I'll just tell him what his dad whispered to me the night of his wedding. Italian pride!
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