Family. From what I can glean during your interviews you get along swimmingly with your family. Sure your mother is now scarred for life after you failed to tell her you'd be appearing sans clothes in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but she still picks up the phone when you call at two in the morning to cry about your best friend moving out, so she can't be holding too big of a grudge. Your giant extended family in Boston showed up for the opening of I Love You, Man and your little sister didn't run screaming from the theater when she saw your willy projected onto a giant movie screen. I think I'd develop PTSD if I saw my brother naked, so I don't know how she held it together. I, too, am close with my family, despite how semi-dysfunctional we can be. I mean, when I was ten years old my father left my mother and married our Spanish exchange student a few years later. If that doesn't qualify for an episode of Jerry Springer I don't know what does. I love my family so much, in fact, that yesterday I let my dad take me out to lunch and grill me about why my best friend and I aren't madly in love, my current perspective on middle school awkwardness, and my fascination with a certain young actor named Jason. After lunch I zipped over to my mom's (she and my dad only live three blocks from one another - more weirdness), where I spent a few hours dancing around the kitchen with a bag on my head singing nonsense songs, downing raspberry lemon drops, munching on Cheetos and kicking her ass at various board games, including Mystery Date. Who else would indulge that kind of behavior other than one's own family? I wouldn't trade my parents and older brother for anything and I have a feeling you feel the same way about your clan. See? One more thing we have in common.*After sharing this post with my mother she claims our family is not dysfunctional. She prefers the term interesting. Clearly, one of us is in denial.
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