Easter is kind of a weird holiday for me. Not really into the whole Jesus-comes-out-of-the-tomb-sees-his-shadow-and-we-have-six-more-weeks-of-lent thing, and I never really liked the jelly bean bunny poo left all over the baskets. And buttercreme chocolate eggs, uugghh! I didn't mind the new clothes that we would go and get, I just hated having to wear the fashions of the decade I was a child in. Well, that's not true. I hated not being able to pick out what I really wanted to wear. Halston didn't make a children's line, that bitch. I did always enjoy getting together with my family, especially my Aunt Janet. She was, in her own way, my Auntie Mame. I learned every dirty word, raunchy joke and disgusting bodily function from her. I learned how to play cards, especially Crazy Eights. I learned from her what beer tasted like. Hated it. And Vodka. LOVED IT! It was always a treat going to see her, as you can imagine. She always let me sit at the adult table, my sister and cousins hated me. I felt was always above them, anyway. They never got my humor. Now-a-days, the family has moved around and far away, and with work and life and divorce and death, we rarely get together as we used to. It's a shame. I think, just as a way of honoring those long ago days, I'm going to buy a new pair of dress shoes, a bad polyester suit from Penny's, leave the product out of my hair and go visiting the folks. On the holiday. Hey it can't hurt, except my feet. When's Easter?
I am a life long resident of this little island on the east coast of New Jersey and I am the walking representation of Atlantic City. Which doesn't say much for the city. I'm a professional party guest.