So I threw a cook out last night for the sole purpose of americanizing my little czech sez amemones, and they all ended up working. the rest of my guestlist, as per usual of most of my crap friends, did not show. However, my roomate, my friend Miss. tattoo, and a previously unmentioned Mr. movie (it's really odd that i never mentioned him before, I have known him for a good chunck of time and I lived with him and his parents for a while... oh well, first time for everything...) made a great party. We ended up watching princess bride after I fought with them over a muppets movie- puppets freak me out...) Mr. movie says, i held out on inviting my third cousins because I felt bad." Well, my parties, in case any of you are lucky enough to be invited, are always open house. You are always welcome to invite your mom, your cat, the grocery check out girl, and your third cousins if they're in town. After he invites them, there is a long pause in conversation in which he fills with this:

"I cannot be held personally resposible for what my cousins say or do. They're crazy... like back-woods, no vaccinations, not schoolin' crazy..."

Which leads one to expect pierced, long haired freaks who have no manners and wear shirts that say crazy things like "I see stupid people." I have met another one of Mr.Movies cousins and this was true of that kid, however nice he had turned out to be. So finally, the brigade of boys arrives. Mr. Movie opens the door and invites them in and insists that they do their own introductions because he doesn't know their names. Well... In walks the cast of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. They are tall, broad shouldered, smooth faced men with handshakes as light as air, as if they're afraid the women are too delicate for such a rough tradition. They say hello, introduce themselves, and make way for the kitchen. I introduced the food and let them have at it, and the whole time they complemented my kitchen, they held the door of the refrigerator open for me, they polietly allowed eachother giveway at the table, ect. they said "please" and "Yes ma'am," they refused to allow my roomate to take out the trash, they made the most delightful conversation, and they threw away their own cups and plates. In short, they were the most well-groomed, best mannered, and funniest group of 'country bumkins' I have ever met.

If Country is all about Andrew, Joe, John, and Adolf, count me in for a lifetime of hee-hawin'