My Mafia Christmas

This is a blog I wrote some time last week or whatever:

It’s the day after Christmas, and wow, has a lot happened. First off, let’s talk about Christmas Eve with the Palmas. There’s really something to be said for spending the holidays with a bunch of crazy Italians who think it’s funny to use a box of constipation medication as a trophy (it is funny, by the way). But more on that later.

December 24th

This Christmas Eve was kind of bittersweet for me. Sweet, because I was with my family; bitter, because my idiot boyfriend didn’t convert to Judaism in time to ditch his family and spend xmas eve with me. It seemed like everything I saw was trying to remind me of the fact that Andrew wasn’t there. I mean, seriously, is it really necessary for my sister and cousins to hang all over their boyfriends in front of me? IS IT? Because I’m pretty sure they could have just recognized the fact that I was sad, and sat at least five feet away from each other at all times. Not that I like Andrew, or anything. Can’t stand the dumb fucker. But it would have been nice to see him (let’s ignore the fact that I spent the first half of the day with him, including an entire hour of trying to say goodbye to each other in my car. He’s such a fucking fag).

Anywhoo, let’s discuss the highlights of the night, shall we? First off, at exactly nine o’clock, my cousin Michelle had to make an important phone call, which she thought we would enjoy. So us older grandkids and nieces went outside and crammed ourselves into my sister’s boyfriend’s car. Michelle explains the story to us. Seems she likes to meet random guys online, make up their perfect girl, and then totally fuck with their heads. The one she was going to call thought she had lived in Italy most of her life, before moving to New York two years ago. He says he’s in love with her, and actually proposed (mind you, they’ve never met, just Imed and talked on the phone). So she puts her cell on speaker and calls him. When she talks to him she uses this practically unidentifiable accent, and calls him Papi. It was mucho disturbing, and everyone pretty much crapped themselves trying not to laugh out loud. And then this fucking guy starts a screaming match with his brother, forgets all about Michelle, and basically makes an ass out of himself. All I could hear was him yelling about a retarded douche bag who ‘turned my tv off!’ Michelle had to hang up three times to keep him from hearing us all shriek with laughter. And then her dad appeared outside her window and opened the car door. He took in our flushed faces and streaming red eyes, and sniffed the air. “It smells funny in here,” he remarked, giving us all the eye, before turning around and walking away. It was hysterical. My pants are still wet.

Then we had our annual Christmas Eve presents. That started because my Nana actually has a whole other Christmas held in early January, for her kids and grandkids only. My second cousins don’t go to that, so they get their presents at Christmas Eve. For some reason, my Nana and Boompa thought that the rest of us would get jealous, despite the fact that we’d be getting an insane amount of gifts from them in a few days. So they give us all gifts. I’m technically not supposed to get anything, since I’m over 18 (adults do the ‘bad santa swap’), but my grandparents spoil the shit out of me. I got pajamas, a border’s gift card, and (drum roll please) a listening device, so I can spy on mother fuckers doing bad shit.

The Bad Santa Swap was fucking hysterical. My mom literally almost pissed all over the floor. Of course, I narrowly avoided a horrifically tactless moment. There were super corroded batteries in the creepy Chinese black guy alarm clock that I gave, so I wanted to tell whoever got it not to touch them, cuz they were little cancer sticks. And who winds up with the damned thing? The one person in the group who actually had cancer (thank god I remembered that, cuz I was already opening my mouth to say it before I realized who it was). I don’t know-- it struck me as something Fran would find amusing. I somehow wound up with two ugly presents: an extremely odd framed picture of Hillary Clinton, and statues of the three wise black men.

And then finally, we awarded the Enema. You may be wondering, what on earth is the Enema? Isn’t that a suppository? Don’t you stick those up your ass when you can’t go to the bathroom? To this I answer, not quite. Yes, an enema is indeed meant to be rammed up your asshole. But it’s more than that. In our family, we pass around an empty enema box once a year. The Enema is given to the Palma who has done the dumbest thing all year. Some previous winning moments are: leaving a party and forgetting your youngest child, ramming your car into a completely stationary dumpster, and going to a concert, using Tylenol as earplugs, and then having to remove them with pliers once they start to melt inside your head (good job, dad). The winner from the previous year has the final say on who wins. This year, yours truly was up for the win, for hitting into a car right in front of my school, but then my aunt remembered something that happened in the summer, and I was spared the humiliation. She awarded the Enema to her father, my Boompa, for running down a Mr. Softie man and bawling him out for playing his music too loudly. I love my family.

This is shaping up to be a seriously long blog. Jesus.

December 25th

Before Christmas, my parents told me that because I had crashed my car, they wouldn’t have enough money to do big presents this year. They are both full of shit. We all finished opening our presents, and were chilling around, playing with our stuff, when my mom and dad come out of their room with two big boxes, and one HUGE box. Frankie opened the biggest one. It was FULL of xbox 360 games, and pretty much everything the little brat had asked for. Devon and I had identical boxes, which we were told to open at the same time. I tore my paper off, and revealed a cardboard box with ‘Dell’ printed on the side. I tried not to get my hopes up, thinking that maybe they had just stuck my gift in a random box, and then I heard Devon squeal. I looked over, and there she was, face glowing as if she were pregnant with Jesus himself, a shiny black laptop in her hands. I looked down at mine, and there it was. The same thing in apple red. Probably the coolest thing EVER. And they’re both reeeaally nice, too. Like, insanely nice. The best money can buy (just don’t ask me where the fuck my ghetto poor family found the money to buy these). Now all I have to do is wait for my dad to get the wireless router, and I’ll never have to leave my room again. Of course, I now have no excuse not to write a novel.

At two we trucked over to my Grammy and Banana’s house, to celebrate with my mom’s side of the family. Devon and I were pretty much glued to our laptops. Until of course, we showed our parents youtube. Before we knew what was happening, my dad had taken mine to watch live videos of the Beatles, and my mom took Devon’s to watch videos of squirrels being shot. Most of the rest of the family was playing guitar hero in the den. My Aunt Jen is crazy good at it. It’s sick. Then we had dinner (delicious) and opened presents (awesome). And then the climax of the night: the annual nerf war. For the past five or six years, my grandparents have given my dad and my Uncle Rob nerf guns for Christmas. Last year, my family snuck our own arsenal in our jackets, and totally dominated. This year, we decided not to cheat (except for me bringing a box cutter so my dad could open his gun faster). But Uncle Rob did. He gathered all of his sons’ nerf stuff, put it in a garbage bag, and stashed it just outside the front door. Sneaky bastard. But did it help them in the end? *smiles smugly* Maybe, maybe not. As noncombatants, my sister and I were on ammo duty. That is, when our dad is shot at, we dive all over the floor picking up the darts to give to him. But, as always, Devon and I decided to be sneaky little bitches. She was deliberately taunting the kids so they’d shoot at her and she could take their darts. I was slinking underneath tables, sliding between the bars of chairs (I felt so skinny-- guess I’m winning, Andrew), and sneaking into enemy territory. I stole their bazooka launchers. They never even noticed me, even though I was right in the middle of them. Imagine the look on my uncle’s face when Devon and I suddenly stood up with two fully loaded bazookas aimed at his face. But I’m not really a combatant, not deep down. I prefer subtlety. I prefer sabotage. So I stole their secret bag of ammo, and began collecting all the darts, even popping up out of nowhere and plucking them right off the guns. Then I hid the bazookas. It was fucking awesome. I might have actually broken a sweat. And possibly my nose. But we won, and that’s all that matters.

December 26th

First day of wintersession. I have two classes- English and pilates. So I get to read and work out, which, honestly, is my idea of fun. I can’t wait to lose weight and kick Andrew’s fucking ass. What have you lost so far, bitch? I bet I’m winning. And I know exactly what I’m going to make you do when I win, but I’m not going to tell you now. Haha.