Conversations with Dad 4: The Pizza Incident
Wherein during a visit to the apartment of Carol and Ces the Marciuliano parents cannot decide on what to eat for dinner.
The following is a transcript of an actual conversation I had with both my mother Isilda, G.I. Joe's first clothing designer and former dildo cozy knitter, and my father Frank Marciuliano, award-winning graphic designer, one-time pornography T-shirt illustrator and self-described Renaissance Man.
Ces: Okay, what would you guys like to order for dinner? We can get Mexican...
Mom: Oh, no, no, Ces. I don't like Mexican...
Dad: Yeah, let's get Mexican.
Ces: Okay, there's Indian...
Mom: No, no, we can't do that. I can't stand Indian food.
Dad: Let's order Indian!
Ces: We...wait. You don't like Indian food either, Dad.
Dad: Well why should your mother get to choose what we eat?
Mom: Fine, order Indian food. But I won't eat it.
Ces: But neither will he.
Dad (Into personal voice recorder): Nobody likes Indian food.
Pause.
Ces: What...what is that, Dad?
Dad: My personal voice recorder! I always take it with me now so I don't forget.
Ces: Forget what?
Dad: I don't know. The batteries aren't working. Which I don't understand because I just put them in.
Pause.
Ces: How about pasta?
Dad: Oh, Ces, I forgot. There was something important I wanted to ask you...
Ces: Well, let's just get this sorted out first and then...
Dad: What did I want to ask you again...
Ces: We'll do that after we...
Dad: Wait, help me remember...
Ces: Is it on your recorder?
Dad: I think so but the batteries aren't working, which doesn't make any sense because I just put them in...Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Why would Carol want to donate her cut hair to make wigs for chemo patients? It's not like they're going to pay her.
Pause.
Ces: Is...is that honestly what you wanted to ask me?
Dad: Actually, what I really wanted to ask you is now that Carol has a different hair color does it feel like you're screwing another woman?
Ces: WHAT?!?
Mom: Frank! How could you say such a thing?!?
Dad: What did I say that was so wrong? (Into recorder) Everyone is against me.
Mom: Isn't it bad enough our other son says he can't stand to be around us? Now you have to scare this one, too? (To Ces) I'm sorry, Ces, but it's been a really stressful time with your brother and all. So you're just going to have to love us twice as much to make up for him right now.
Awkward, awkward pause.
Ces: Okay...how about we get pizza?
Mom: I like pizza.
Dad: I don't.
Ces: Yes. Yes you do, Dad.
Dad (Into recorder): Isilda gets her pizza.
Ces: So what toppings would you like?
Dad: How much does it cost?
Ces: Carol and I are paying.
Dad: We can get two large with sausage! I like sausage!
Ces: Well...Carol is a vegetarian, Dad, so how about we...
Dad: You haven't become a vegetarian, too, have you, Ces?
Ces: Uh, no...but that...
Dad: Remember, Ces--"Marciulianos like our sausage."
Ces: Dear God...What an embarrassing motto to have under one's family crest.
Mom: Let's just get plain pizza. Toppings are too expensive for them.
Ces: We're ordering pizza, Mom. Not a Hummer.
Mom: I just want you to know I'm looking out for you.
Ces: Soooooo...We can get half sausage, half plain on one pizza. Then the other half with olives for Carol...
Mom: Oh no! I can't have olives on the pizza!
Ces: Just on one half, for Carol.
Mom: No, no, Ces! I can't have olives on my pizza!
Ces: They're not for you, Mom. They're on one half...for Carol.
Mom: But I can't have olives on the pizza! They make me sick!
Dad (Into recorder): They make her sick.
Ces: Then don't eat the half with the olives.
Mom: I'll vomit just looking at them!
Dad (Into recorder): She'll vomit just looking at them.
Ces: But what about Carol?
Mom: I'll literally throw up if I see olives!
Dad (Into recorder): She'll literally throw up.
Ces: What the fu...what on earth are you doing, Dad?
Dad: I'm recording messages on my voice recorder. I also use it to help me reemember lyrics for my rap songs.
Ces: You're...you're a rap singer now?
Dad: I even have a stage name! "F.O.G."--"Fat Old Guinea"!
Ces: Please tell me you haven't shared that title with anyone.
Dad: Well, not until I write enough lyrics to make an album. Which reminds me...(Into recorder) Motherfucker! Motherfucker!
Pause.
Ces: That's your lyric? "Motherfucker"?
Dad: That's just one line. I also recorded some lines about my getting back at some bastard with a knife.
Ces: Then what? You transcribe the lyrics later?
Dad: I would if these fuckin' batteries would work. (Into recorder) The batteries don't work.
Ces: Umm, so about the pizza...Mom, how about you try not to look at the olives?
Mom: How can I not look at them if they're here? I can't have olives in my house!
Ces: Your house?
Dad: You see how I'm always denied? She never lets me have olives, Ces. Never! (Into recorder) Frank can't have his olives.
Ces: You wanted sausage, Dad. Carol wanted olives.
Pause.
Dad: Your mother also won't let me have sweets.
Mom: That's because you're diabetic, Frank!
Dad: But you get to have dessert, Isilda!
Ces: I...I...listen...I'm just saying Carol likes olives on her...
Mom: No, no, no, no, Ces! We can't have olives! I won't be able to eat! I'll throw up on your nice carpet!
Dad (Into voice recorder): Ces has vomit on his carpet.
Ces: Dad!
Dad (Into voice recorder): Ces yells at his father.
Ces: DAD!!!
Dad: What?
Ces: Why...how...if...if you want to record the conversation, why not just leave the device on instead of repeating each sentence?
Dad: Because I have a beautiful voice. Listen!
Dad presses play button. Nothing is heard.
Ces: Batteries?
Dad: What the fuck is wrong with them?!? I just put them in!
Ces: Listen...Mom, what if we keep the olive half in the kitchen?
Mom: You can't make poor Carol eat in the kitchen, Ces. Come on now. Think.
Ces (Slowly): She's...she's not going to eat in the kitchen, Mom. We'll keep the pizza in there and she can take out a slice at a time...
Mom: But then I can see the olives! I don't want to ruin your nice carpet!
Ces: Just one slice!
Mom: That's all it will take!!! What about your nice carpet?!?
Ces: Okay...okay...okay...just...just tell me...simply...why you are so morally and physically opposed to olives. Just a simple explanation. That's all. Why are you so against olives? Huh? Why? Why can't my wife have her olives? Why?!?
Mom ponders for a minute.
Mom: Well...it's...it's sort of like that old saying...
Ces: What old saying?
Mom: You know the one...how does it go?...Uh...Oh, yeah. "It's like sucking a monkey's ass."
Pause.
Dad (Into recorder): Like sucking a monkey's ass.
Previously on "Conversations with Dad":
Payback: The Other Movie with the Exact Same Title
Death and Family in a New Jersey Diner
Pick-A-Dick
The following is a transcript of an actual conversation I had with both my mother Isilda, G.I. Joe's first clothing designer and former dildo cozy knitter, and my father Frank Marciuliano, award-winning graphic designer, one-time pornography T-shirt illustrator and self-described Renaissance Man.
Ces: Okay, what would you guys like to order for dinner? We can get Mexican...
Mom: Oh, no, no, Ces. I don't like Mexican...
Dad: Yeah, let's get Mexican.
Ces: Okay, there's Indian...
Mom: No, no, we can't do that. I can't stand Indian food.
Dad: Let's order Indian!
Ces: We...wait. You don't like Indian food either, Dad.
Dad: Well why should your mother get to choose what we eat?
Mom: Fine, order Indian food. But I won't eat it.
Ces: But neither will he.
Dad (Into personal voice recorder): Nobody likes Indian food.
Pause.
Ces: What...what is that, Dad?
Dad: My personal voice recorder! I always take it with me now so I don't forget.
Ces: Forget what?
Dad: I don't know. The batteries aren't working. Which I don't understand because I just put them in.
Pause.
Ces: How about pasta?
Dad: Oh, Ces, I forgot. There was something important I wanted to ask you...
Ces: Well, let's just get this sorted out first and then...
Dad: What did I want to ask you again...
Ces: We'll do that after we...
Dad: Wait, help me remember...
Ces: Is it on your recorder?
Dad: I think so but the batteries aren't working, which doesn't make any sense because I just put them in...Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Why would Carol want to donate her cut hair to make wigs for chemo patients? It's not like they're going to pay her.
Pause.
Ces: Is...is that honestly what you wanted to ask me?
Dad: Actually, what I really wanted to ask you is now that Carol has a different hair color does it feel like you're screwing another woman?
Ces: WHAT?!?
Mom: Frank! How could you say such a thing?!?
Dad: What did I say that was so wrong? (Into recorder) Everyone is against me.
Mom: Isn't it bad enough our other son says he can't stand to be around us? Now you have to scare this one, too? (To Ces) I'm sorry, Ces, but it's been a really stressful time with your brother and all. So you're just going to have to love us twice as much to make up for him right now.
Awkward, awkward pause.
Ces: Okay...how about we get pizza?
Mom: I like pizza.
Dad: I don't.
Ces: Yes. Yes you do, Dad.
Dad (Into recorder): Isilda gets her pizza.
Ces: So what toppings would you like?
Dad: How much does it cost?
Ces: Carol and I are paying.
Dad: We can get two large with sausage! I like sausage!
Ces: Well...Carol is a vegetarian, Dad, so how about we...
Dad: You haven't become a vegetarian, too, have you, Ces?
Ces: Uh, no...but that...
Dad: Remember, Ces--"Marciulianos like our sausage."
Ces: Dear God...What an embarrassing motto to have under one's family crest.
Mom: Let's just get plain pizza. Toppings are too expensive for them.
Ces: We're ordering pizza, Mom. Not a Hummer.
Mom: I just want you to know I'm looking out for you.
Ces: Soooooo...We can get half sausage, half plain on one pizza. Then the other half with olives for Carol...
Mom: Oh no! I can't have olives on the pizza!
Ces: Just on one half, for Carol.
Mom: No, no, Ces! I can't have olives on my pizza!
Ces: They're not for you, Mom. They're on one half...for Carol.
Mom: But I can't have olives on the pizza! They make me sick!
Dad (Into recorder): They make her sick.
Ces: Then don't eat the half with the olives.
Mom: I'll vomit just looking at them!
Dad (Into recorder): She'll vomit just looking at them.
Ces: But what about Carol?
Mom: I'll literally throw up if I see olives!
Dad (Into recorder): She'll literally throw up.
Ces: What the fu...what on earth are you doing, Dad?
Dad: I'm recording messages on my voice recorder. I also use it to help me reemember lyrics for my rap songs.
Ces: You're...you're a rap singer now?
Dad: I even have a stage name! "F.O.G."--"Fat Old Guinea"!
Ces: Please tell me you haven't shared that title with anyone.
Dad: Well, not until I write enough lyrics to make an album. Which reminds me...(Into recorder) Motherfucker! Motherfucker!
Pause.
Ces: That's your lyric? "Motherfucker"?
Dad: That's just one line. I also recorded some lines about my getting back at some bastard with a knife.
Ces: Then what? You transcribe the lyrics later?
Dad: I would if these fuckin' batteries would work. (Into recorder) The batteries don't work.
Ces: Umm, so about the pizza...Mom, how about you try not to look at the olives?
Mom: How can I not look at them if they're here? I can't have olives in my house!
Ces: Your house?
Dad: You see how I'm always denied? She never lets me have olives, Ces. Never! (Into recorder) Frank can't have his olives.
Ces: You wanted sausage, Dad. Carol wanted olives.
Pause.
Dad: Your mother also won't let me have sweets.
Mom: That's because you're diabetic, Frank!
Dad: But you get to have dessert, Isilda!
Ces: I...I...listen...I'm just saying Carol likes olives on her...
Mom: No, no, no, no, Ces! We can't have olives! I won't be able to eat! I'll throw up on your nice carpet!
Dad (Into voice recorder): Ces has vomit on his carpet.
Ces: Dad!
Dad (Into voice recorder): Ces yells at his father.
Ces: DAD!!!
Dad: What?
Ces: Why...how...if...if you want to record the conversation, why not just leave the device on instead of repeating each sentence?
Dad: Because I have a beautiful voice. Listen!
Dad presses play button. Nothing is heard.
Ces: Batteries?
Dad: What the fuck is wrong with them?!? I just put them in!
Ces: Listen...Mom, what if we keep the olive half in the kitchen?
Mom: You can't make poor Carol eat in the kitchen, Ces. Come on now. Think.
Ces (Slowly): She's...she's not going to eat in the kitchen, Mom. We'll keep the pizza in there and she can take out a slice at a time...
Mom: But then I can see the olives! I don't want to ruin your nice carpet!
Ces: Just one slice!
Mom: That's all it will take!!! What about your nice carpet?!?
Ces: Okay...okay...okay...just...just tell me...simply...why you are so morally and physically opposed to olives. Just a simple explanation. That's all. Why are you so against olives? Huh? Why? Why can't my wife have her olives? Why?!?
Mom ponders for a minute.
Mom: Well...it's...it's sort of like that old saying...
Ces: What old saying?
Mom: You know the one...how does it go?...Uh...Oh, yeah. "It's like sucking a monkey's ass."
Pause.
Dad (Into recorder): Like sucking a monkey's ass.
Previously on "Conversations with Dad":
Payback: The Other Movie with the Exact Same Title
Death and Family in a New Jersey Diner
Pick-A-Dick
posted by Francesco Marciuliano at 10:55 AM
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23 Comments:
Carol must be a special girl :)
Good stuff, keep it up.
I would like to note for the record that I hid in the bathroom for this entire conversation.
I don't think anyone can blame you for that.
Does your dad ever read these? Should I send him a link?
/curious in a cinder block
Wow, and here I thought my mom was a bit off because of her unnatural fear of anything derived from soybean. Of cours e this was after raising me on soy formula.
You either must compile these into a book or adopt me. I don't think I can live a full life without these conversations on a regular basis.
So after reading these conversations, I just have to ask.
Are you serious? I mean, really.
And just when I thought your mother would be the sane one of the dynamic duo.
Alas, the conversations are true. My parents don't balance each other out so much as encourage the other to reach greater heights of lunacy.
Also, my dad has indeed read the conversations (I wouldn't have posted them if he hadn't).
As for adoption, that would depend on whether or not you were bringing in a third salary to our family. But as for compiling these into a book, that is the goal...should I be fortunate enough to get an agent.
Thanks for reading these!
Dildo cozy?
Wow. Your parents might actually be stranger than mine. And that's saying a lot since my father has inspired my friends to 1) dress like him for Halloween, 2) make a stuffed version of him, and 3) make a fake blog by him complete with fake comments (from children he might have fathered while stationed in the Philippines 35 years ago).
Sometimes when people recount conversations or AOL conversations online it doesn't work, but yours definitely work and are always amusing!
--katya
this is just too funny. loved it. :)
but carol... did you ever get any pizza?
Yes, plain.
But I snuck to the kitchen and drank a few beers before it got there.
These conversations are hilarious. Ces, how did you turn out so normal, growing up in such an environment?
--Flasshe
#1: I'm glad Carol was able to get some pizza.
#2: I suppose every dildo needs a cozy to keep it warm and, uh, cozy.
#3: Did the voice recorder ever work?
#4: Ces, how is it humanly possible to continue a conversation when your father asks you if your wife's new hair color makes it seem like your screwing a another woman? Better yet, how can you keep any train of thought after any of the things your parents say to you?
#5: Carol, something tells me that the bathroom is a home away from home when the in-laws come over.
This is an awesome site, by the way.
Motherfucker!
HA!
I do not want to know how your mother knows what sucking a monkey's ass is like.
And I thought MY family was weird..
Why would you not know that your mom hates olives? This can't be a new aversion. And why wouldn't you just drop it after the first time she said she didn't want olives? It's like you were trying to torture her. OK, no fricking olives, next.
Because they were in his house, the olives weren't for her and the complaint was irrational.
God, I hope you're not married...or someone's mother.
Oh my word...I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe! I feel such a huge sense of relief that mine is not the strangest family in the world. Although this conversation brings to mind one I had a Christmas with my step-grandmother where we bonded because we both had step-mothers who stole our fathers from us for their "new" families. Mind you, my step mother is her DAUGHTER...and SHE is the "new" family that is stealing my father. My head still spins when I think back...
Oh man, keep these coming. I would definitely buy a book full.
And Carol, I've also found pizza with onions is surprisingly good. Don't really care for peppers though.
But nothing tops double mushrooms with extra cheese.
Christ! This is so funny, I almost puked. And to think of all the ways a monkeys ass could be used in discussions......
Thanks. You made me laugh out loud at work. A *lot*. There are still tears in my eyes. And my co-workers hate me.
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