A FREEZE FULL OF MEAT AND MASTER OF THE HOUSE

John-

No freezer can possibly surpass that of Vito's. Vito has a "skill" for packing it- or rather "Omaha Steaks" has a knack for making their meat stackable to allow for such a skill.....This warrants research....

Speaking of things that warrant research--

Sir Stephen began singing "Master of the House"- a timeless classic of the musical Les Miserables ....When he realized I was a bystander to this serenade, he quickly became quiet realizing his mistake (he knows I will call him out on such a spectacle)...

My husband has never seen this musical-- nor has he seen Guys and Dolls..yet he knows most of the songs on these albums...(and not ones you would think..)

Growing up, I am assuming he was exposed to great music by the Vin-Man. I already know he is the "Master of the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s" as does Royal Caribbean.....but I ask is this normal? How can one human being possess such great useless knowledge and never use it for monetary gain or recognition?

I would like to think of this as his SUPERPOWER. Some men possess great strength and intellect...Sir Stephen possesses the ability to smell any fart and name any tune...(musicals included)....

Long day here at Berea-Rose, but it's quiet now. Got a good way through this week's crossword from WSJ but my eyes are hurting and the light is fading and I don't want to turn on lights. Summer evenings are for not turning on lights if you don't have to. Or a/c -- though by the time we sat down to a heaping pile of grilled pork chops (more on that in a bit) we noticed the thermostat in the dining room was at 86F. Yeah, time to fire up the chillers.

Those were some nice pork chops -- very thick, so I had to grill them carefully. Alane took the day off so I made sure she saw the circular Giant Beagle stuck in my grocery bag earlier this week. Banner hed: "Huge 3-Day Meat Sale." It was in large type so it wrapped to two lines. That means you could fold it down the center to make it say "Huge Meat." So we did.

Anyway, Alane went to Giant Beagle this morning and got huge meat. Now we have a freezer that bulges like Vito's. Heh.

Hello again

Ree-

I feel so blessed and honored to be a part of the Mastandrea clan- hence my new screen name :). I was indoctrinated into the family (like most)..This blog was my first glimpse of the maddening love of family, food, and the wacky. I was welcomed with open arms- and now I finally feel a part of something great....

I also find myself saying and singing the most random of things...I know how my "husband's" (I like saying the word-so pardon me for that :) ) brain works....Its really CRAZY!!!!!!

I am sure this is just the beginning of great things...
And with that said....

MAZEL, MAZEL

Goooooooooldman!!!

Welcome back, Ravioli Ree -- I could've saved you a few keystrokes by reminding you: everything is funny.

Especially when viewed through the half-collapsed partition of a rest-area toilet stall.

Okay, gonna need some help here. Go in to about the 55 second mark. Is that who we think it is?

Making The Comeback

First and foremost, I must say how happy I am to be back on this blog. It may sound strange, but I feel so at home here. Ah, memories. You see, I was once a child star on this family blog, and at the time, my ownership of the mother of all surnames was nowhere near leaving me. It's crazy how time flies. Pretty soon, I will be celebrating my 25th birthday and closing the chapter of my life as the Little Mastandrea. Come spring, I will be inaugurated as Matriarch of the House of Goldman. Being a Mastandrea makes me know that I have what it takes to never let that macaroni dish be emptied. My excitement overwhelms me. 

I chose a new blog name in honor of all who contribute to the beloved macaroni dish, because if it wasn't for you, there would be no blog such as this one as well as  WWVS, and the bottomless sauce pot of knowledge called the Encyclopedia Mastandrea. In all sincerity, I honored to be writing again alongside the super geniuses of my life, The Mastandreas. 

PS: 

Farts are always funny. 

Doodie is always funny. 

Neckbraces are always funny. 

Mustaches are always funny. 

Bad hair is always funny. 

Uncle Vito is always funny. 

Reminds me of another wisecrack earnestly delivered but dead on arrival: "You give the aspirin a head-ache." Steve's 2004 telling of that tale is priceless. My addendum is here.

Interestingly, I had the boys at the local barbershop yesterday. Conversation ranged from the giant shoelace factory in southwest Ohio (don't ask) to Grandpa's Cheese Barn in Ashland (definitely worth a post of its own).

Every comedian must be aware of his audience. Cookie was correct, it was indeed a clever exhibition of wordplay. I have those unsure moments quite frequently. Normally, I will call my cousin Kristie and ask her opinion. She is the ultimate barometer because I can always count on her to laugh. Which reminds me. Not too long ago, I entered in to an ongoing conversation between Jennie's friends about a local Mexican restaurant called "Rocco's Tacos". As they were debating the different appetizers and margaritas, I quietly interjected into their discussion "I would like to open a competing restaurant right next door and name it "Rocky's Cockies" " Now, there are countless euphemisms for excrement, almost all of which funny, but "cocky and doody" have just never been as popular with the general public as they are inside the Fatone and Mastandrea households. I was of course beaming inside, but her friends were not only unimpressed, I'm pretty sure they were disgusted. For the record, Kristie laughed....and she laughed because she is an excellent judge of comedy....and because cocky is always funny. Just like farts are always  funny.

I'm not sure how it came up, but I told an old story at the dinner table the other night. Like most of my tales, it is oft-told. About 20 years ago now, while I worked at BNY, our secretary had spent much of the day telling us the details of the truck she and her husband were purchasing and how they were arguing over the color. Or something. As she regaled a small group of coworkers I made the "oh will you shut up already" face and her response to me was a friendly "tell it to my husband." To which I said: "Why? I have no truck with him."

And I thought it was funny! But everyone else thought it was not! "Of course you don't, she's the one who's buying the truck."

Anyway, I retold the story the other night and Cookie started to laugh. I was skeptical. "You're just being polite," I challenged. And he said, "No, truck, as in quarrel."

At which point I pounded the surface of the dining room table (yeah, that table) and proclaimed him a chip off the old block. Then I remembered the opening scenes of Revenge of the Nerds where the nerdy dad drives the nerdy son to school and now I'm wondering if I've erred.

Indeed, the time has come to unearth this buried treasure and display its majestic beauty for all those understand its precious value. Yes, the macaroni dish is overflowing with tales and legends which need to be shared...so lets jump right into it.

Has anyone noticed that my father really likes to call me Promo? No one seems to know if it is short for a longer name. I recently approached him on it, asked him "What the hell is promo?" He laughed and said "you". 
Recently, my parents received a tur-duck-en in the mail from Berea. In honor of my brother-in-laws 29th birthday, we prepared it. It produced exactly the sort of commentary one would expect. I offered an alternative hybrid meat idea for Passover...gefilte fish stuffed with duck and chicken..."a Gerfucken". However, Joe Fatone Sr. always steals the show...he suggested we send John and Alane a "Cat-bat-rat". 

Finally, I've decided I need to invest in more Luche Libre masks....I have no idea why.