The Little Monster

So I'm home for the holidays. That's right, South Carolina baby! 

And I'm super excited to be home. To relax, hang out. Depart from the chaos of Dallas...

Until I remember that I'm a Festa. Chaos is our life, and home is no different. 

First story: I have a little brother named Patrick. He's 7. Yes I said 7. I realize how big an age difference there is. And we call him Little Monster. 

Why, you may ask? I mean he's cute, he looks harmless enough. 

Here's why. 

So I was talking to him the other day about taking karate, and jokingly asked if he was going to use his new skills to beat up my dad. My dad is a crazy. I mean a legit crazy, and would probably be impressed if Patrick attempted to kill him with a karate chop to the neck. 

Anyway, Patrick says no, dad is too big and he is small. To which I so wisely respond, "You know Patrick dad is getting pretty old. I mean, in a few years he'll probably be in a wheelchair and then you'll be able to beat him up." 

Now let me explain a little bit first. If you know me and think I'm a little arrogant, let me tell you, I have NOTHING on my father. He is full blooded Italian, louder than me, more obnoxious than me, and even more conceited than I am. Because of this my three brothers and I make it our lifelong goal to try to bring his self-esteem down to a somewhat normal level. We call him old, we tell him he needs to get into shape, etc, etc. This may sound mean and perhaps even cruel, but you do not know my dad. Nothing phases him. Nothing. His response is always, "Give me a month. Give me a month and I'll beat you running a mile. Give me a month, I'll bench more than you" (said to my 6'2", 250 pound football playing brother, obviously not to me.) Just one month, no matter what it is. He probably could build you a house in a month according to him. 

So I digress. These are a few of the many reasons that my above comment to Patrick is funny and not cruel. We're Italian. We tease each other. It's what we do. Until... Dad calls me right before I go home to tell me that he was joking around with Patrick, picking on him, and Patrick blurts out "You're going to regret that. When you are old and dying, I'm going to punch you in the face!"

To which I have to respond, "I might have had something to do with that" before busting out laughing. 

And then I get home to find Patrick playing outside with my brother James (the above mentioned huge football player). Patrick proceeds to throw the ball no where near where James can catch and when James misses states, "And that's why you got red-shirted." (Sweet little one doesn't know that's a good thing, he just knows it means James didn't get to play this year).

This is the same kid who called my dad a shithead. Yes, shithead. And my dad laughed. He laughed! The same kid who stated, "You know dad, sometimes everything isn't all about you." 

I know you probably think I come from a horribly disfunctional family. And you would probably be correct.

But rather disfunctional than boring I say. 

I Would Do Anything For Selena!

So I promised stories. Multiple stories. And I need to make good on my promises lest anyone call me a liar.

Probably the best night in the gayborhood to date:

I was with my good friend April (really you need to remember her name because she's pretty much in all the stories). So April and I are walking in. It's sometime around 2 am, because everybody knows the gays don't begin coming home until then.

Anyways. We are walking up and recognize one of our good friends. Let's just call our friend Jared for the sake of anonymity. And Kyle is with his new boyfriend (or so we assume). Let's call him Kyle.

As we approach an obviously intoxicated Jared exclaims "Selena! Selena!"

Now I turn immediately to April because she's Hispanic and I'm thinking he thinks she's the famous dead singer Selena. But no.

Instead, he walks straight up to me and says "Selena! Selena Gomez! I just LOVE you" and starts stroking my hair.

For those of you who don't know, Selena Gomez is the Hispanic star of Disney's Wizards of Waverly Place. She also reportedly dated Taylor Lautner (hottie Jacob from Twilight and New Moon) and Joe Jonas.

I mean I know I'm dark skinned and am often mistaken for a minority of some sort. And my hair is totally voluminous and perfectly coiffed at all times like above picture. But seriously people, she's only 17!

But back to my story, because this drunken mans mistake is by far the most mild mistake of the night for him.

So our friend Jared who's also wasty face, pulls me away and explains to me that new boyfriend is not actually new boyfriend. Rather, he is some guy who followed him home from the bar, and unfortunately for Jared also happens live at our apartment complex.

As I'm trying to listen to Jared and ease his plight, I hear Kyle beginning to tell April (who is sitting down on the steps) how beautiful she is. Now for those of you who have not yet had the pleasure, gay men have an affinity for doing this. They tell you how gorgeous you are, how much they like your hair and how fab your outfit is. In fact living in the gayborhood can do wonders for a girls self-esteem. So I'm not really paying attention until he leans down, puts his hands on her face and then proceeds to straddle her.

That's right. Gay man, straddling my friend, hands gripping her face and stroking her hair while going on and on about how she's a hottie Latina.

So I'm laughing. I mean it's funny right? UNTIL he then pushes her back and starts grinding against her/ humping her. And at this point I'm torn. If it were a straight man I'd kick him where it hurts and call security. But this guy is obviously gay, has already complimented me by comparing me to someone famous, and really he's not much bigger than me or April. So instead of doing the right thing (ok, ok, I'm a terrible friend at this point) and saving April, I just start laughing at her expense and wait for him to stop, which is shortly after. At which point April and I decide we've had enough for the day and head inside.

She's a little traumatized by the event but quickly recovers when we realize it's totally worth it to be able to say, "Remember the time you got humped by the gay guy on my front steps?"

Just another night in the hood.

Recent Shenanigans

Let's be honest. No matter your age you are never too old for a good pajama party.

This one inparticular was extra special. We had not just PJ's but onesy's. Multiple onesy's.

My friend Nat and her roommate Kat threw this excellent shindig complete with special PJtinis, spiked hot chocolate, Twister and photo corner (see blue shiny backdrop below). The best part is that Kat, in an attempt to look super skinny for a wedding the next day, took a laxative pre-party and was seen, in her bright green onesy, running back and forth to the bathroom the whole night.

At one point she emerged with a wet sleeve that fell in the toilet because evidently onesy's were not designed with frequent bathroom trips in mind.

A little explanation for the following...

Nat, Lizzie, Michael and I dancing to either Madonna, Like a Prayer, or N Sync, Bye, Bye, Bye

Kat showing us what she calls The Tarantula.

No this is not my child.

Introducing my best friend Gina! She's midgy, she's a halfsy (half Korean to be exact) and she's in a CHILDS onesy. I'm going to go ahead and award her best outfit for fitting into a kids size with room to spare.

Adventures in the Gayborhood

So...I've been contemplating this blog for a while now. You see I live in the uber-fabulous city of Dallas, TX. That's right folks, home of the Cowboys, the Wilson brothers, Neiman Marcus headquarters and Dallas Divas and Daughters (now airing on Style). There is always something going on/going down. Sometimes I wonder, is this really my life?

I thought I would start attempting to explain the chaos by showing the place I spend most of my time. In addition to the ridiculousness I experience on a daily basis, my craziness has reached new heights now that I moved into the building below.

Notice it's near downtown. Also notice the layout from picture two. Remind you of something? Kind of like a modern day Melrose Place. Pool in the middle and drama with the neighbors, with a bit of a twist. Not only is our building super fab but it's located off Cedar Springs aka "The Gayborhood".

Yes, that's right. I live in the gayborhood. Now don't go making assumptions. I am not gay, nor did I move here because of the gays. I happen to live here because we got a great move in deal on rent AND the fact that between three apartments, 8, count em' 8, of my best friends live in the complex as well (And yes, sometimes we refer to it as the sorority house. Don't act like you're not a little jealous). Which makes the adventures even better...

I have many stories to date. I mean this place is DRAMA, DRAMA, DRAMA. Which let's be honest, so is my life. I feed off it, sometimes accidently create it, other times purposefully... So it's actually kind of nice to realize there are some people worse than me, be it the gays or not.

Let's just start with last night:

So the usual, I'm getting home. It's about 1:30 am. I'm walking in and there is a fight going on the front lobby by the elevator. A man and a woman are screaming at each other and pushing each other into the glass, having some kind of relational problem obviously. My friend April and I are watching this, trying to decide what to do. The fight is escalating, she's yelling at him for choking her earlier, he's yelling that it was only to keep some other dude away from her. I'm utterly and totally confused and dialing security. At this point the a big group of gay men walk up. One states, "Oh no, look's like drama." To which another deadpans, "That is a Chris Brown just waiting to happen."

Even in the midst of crisis I had to laugh at that one.