On the sixth day of Sexmas, I delivered to mommy….
ELVIS PRESLEY GYRATING!
If Roy Orbison wasn't playing on Ye Olde Cassette Player, it was a tape of Elvis Presley's rendition of "I'll Be Home For Christmas" or "Here Comes Santa Claus". Played in June.
I'm pretty sure Anyu thinks that Elvis' death was a big hoax. "Oh, Stephie," she would say while she flipped through a Weekly World News claiming to have spotted Elvis in some Florida condominium. "It vould be a better vorld if only dah real Elvis vas alive...and all dah Elvis impersonators vere dead."
Amen to that, Mama.
After some
minor technical issues,I arrived at my cousin’s house. I clumsily fumbled with my luggage and keys trying to get through the extra-narrow corridor. Luckily, I don't think anyone heard me because the crazy cat lady next door to my cousin fell asleep with QVC blaring on her TV again. I could hear Vince Offer screaming about the ShamWow® until I was well inside the apartment. I threw my melty cookies on the table, checked a few e-mails obsessive-compulsively, and passed out around 5:30 a.m.
It felt like I only closed my eyes for a moment when the phone rang. "Hello?" I said, trying to remember where I was.
“Oh, lazy, Stephanie," my aunt said over the phone. "If I didn't call to vake you, you vould have slept until noon."
“What? But I was up all night with-”
“So, are you comink to dah barbecue, Princess? Or should ve send a chariot for you?"
I didn't have it in me to argue. "Yeah, I'm coming."
I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into a piece of charcoal-grilled hot dog. I could already smell the scent of shish kabobs mingled with green grass and sparklers....
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