Sheila O'Malley, Sheila O'Malley

I am not sure which is more insane: Planning a party at 4 o'clock on Friday or expecting people to be able to show up (Fraternities the world over notwithstanding)

Unlesss it truly wasn't the customary insanity or ineptness we'd come to expect at all. What if it really was some madcap, not-so-subtle, ham-handed plot hatched by J.'s hapless Mary Hartman-esque sister and the other demented residents of their little Fernwood?

Knowing his mother would take high offense to his family being AWOL from the birthday gig, and with even just a smidge of egging on, high drama would ensue, J. called his mother to explain his anticipated absence.

It was clear from the first syllables that Sheila had called and had boo hoo hooed to her first. "J. was mean to me and I wear glasses!" or some similarly sniveling pea-brained whine from her prepubescent repertoire. As only a mother can, Endora defended the indefensible (and the defensless Sheila O'Malley Sheila O'Malley who "must have been born under an unlucky star...") (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074021/quotes)

J. remarked that the whole plan appeared to be tailored to fit the new Mrs. Scungili's burgeoning social calendar.

"Well she is my granddaughter."

Yes she is, but she is one of 14 people expected at the table and 7 of them will have to jump through hoops of flame and sacrifice equally important engagements to be there at the appointed hour.

That night while J. had dinner with the girls, he told them about the plans that had been made and the multitude of conflicts. Since they'd have to miss it, they'd need to think of something special to do instead - mindful of needing to borrow time from their own mother, and that it was her birthday weekend too.

Brunch - lunch - barbeque. All possible contenders. The weekend was supposed to be beautiful. Maybe and outdoor cafe!

As it often does, J.'s teen's phone rang as dinner was ending. She left the room to take the call but returned moments later remarking to the caller, "Hold on, I have to ask my Dad."

J. looked up expecting a question about an after dinner latte or curfew leniency for a late movie. "Dad, can I go to Mommom's dinner?"

Turning purple, J. inquired as to the identity of the caller.

"It's Em. She called to invite me."

Through gritted teeth J. managed to hiss,

"TELL HER YOU'LL HAVE TO CALL HER BACK."