Before I go on, I should say that my family never ceases to provide me with comedic material. Whether it is my grandpa who farts with reckless abandon without regard to anyone around him, or my sister who drives like the shoulder is another lane (Pacino in Scent of a Woman did better...yah he was blind). So for this to make the FWG Blog, it had to be able to top old man flatulence and poor driving etiquette.
Sure enough, my Aunt Cecelia did just that and raised the bar to new heights.
Being good Italian-Catholics her house is adorned with crosses in every room, but most importantly (especially to us Italians), the kitchen has its own little shrine (the patron saint of meatballs!).
The Blessed Mother:
Angels: I mean....
I can't make this up. Seriously. Look:
Not only that, I duped my Aunts into posing for a picture in front of it (under the guise of holiday cheer):
The best (worst?) part about this is that that picture has been there since about 1984. It's yellowed over time. Which means Big Tom has looked over close to 25 Thanksgivings, about 10,000 dinners, and who knows how many latenight snacks. All with his knowing grin and dignified upper lip fur. Well done, Mr. Selleck. Instead of another religious picture or photos of friends and family, my Aunt has your picture. Which means you're on the same level as Jesus (anyone that saw Three Men and a Baby should understand).
So now, the question begs to be answered:
What was a bigger star-turn for Selleck; my Aunt's kitchen, or Playgirl?