Ryan: The kids with their dad?
Me: Yup. I might pull a Risky Business in a minute and do some air guitar in my underpants.
Ryan: Just don’t start a brothel in your house, or you’ll spend the entire weekend terribly concerned about an overpriced crystal egg.
Me: You just know his parents were at some high-end swinger’s weekend…some Eyes Wide Shut number.
Ryan: You mean where they wear masks, and could just as easily be attending a human sacrifice?
Me: WASP boners as far as the eye can see…
Ryan: WASPS don’t have “boners”, and they can only get them if they throw back a Cyalis with their single-malt.
Me: Thank God we’re just poor Irish-Italian immigrant trash. Our people only needed a couch and healthy dose of shame, and it was on.
Ryan: Shame is Irish lubricant. Also liquor, let us not forget the liquor.
Me: And the Italian side?
Ryan: Italians are passionate. Any high surface will do. Countertop…Tables…Hood of a Fiat…
Me: Back of a Vespa?
Ryan: I’ve heard you can’t get pregnant on the back of a Vespa.
Me: I think we just explained why you have so many cousins, Casanova.
Fisticuffs and Shenanigans 