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Showing posts from August, 2010

90 is the New 80

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Nothing says you love your Grammy like hoofing 400 pounds of potato knishes twelve blocks across midtown in a cute skirt and new shoes, sweating like a fry cook trapped in satan's armpit. Right after we'd come back from his doctor appointment in the Bronx, my brother handed me the cooler and darted in the other direction. He said if he didn't catch the 4:07 and be on time for their dinner reservation, Mary's fiery ovary would wear him like a scrunchie. The gantze michpocha showed up at Ron and Bonnie's lovely home for the big shindig. The Gramme Dame of the Affair insisted that she was not entirely in the know about the extent of the preparations and/or guest list. She also did not blatantly pump anyone, like Seth, for information in an attempt to nail down the exact specifications of her surprise 90th birthday party.