I find it very difficult to take anything my mother says seriously when there are photographs of her like this floating around on the internet:

(Sorry mama…the public needs to know.)

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Louis and the extremely talented Genevieve Artadi (sorry ladies, they’re dating) recently did a cover of Britney Spears’ “3.” They shot it as a video song, meaning that as each instrument is recorded for the final audio track, the player is visually recorded, so that the resulting music video is an accurate representation of what you are hearing. No lip-syncing, air-guitar, or trickery of any kind.

They really do a great job of punching up this song. In the words of the YouTube User SeanDuncanMusic: “dude louis cole is so legit on the drums.” I agree, Sean. He is so legit. Enjoy:

(*I helped with the editing.)

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I was lucky enough to be able to have dinner with my dad three out of the past four nights. My dad is an excellent eating companion. First because he usually orders dessert, and second because he gets pretty silly, and doesn’t care who sees him. Louie and my mom, who were also there for two of the three dinners, are no different. Family meals are never quiet. When Louie and I were younger, we’d actually get so worked up and silly over dinner, that my parents would have to sit us down beforehand and remind us that “Dad’s been working all day, and he is tired and would like to be able to have a nice dinner and get a word in edgewise for lord’s sake. So please try not to take up the ENTIRE conversation with your endless wall of sound.” We’d sheepishly agree to the New Dinner Terms and go about our day. But once we all sat down, someone would belch, mom would crack a smile, and it would be all over.

In honor of so many loony Cole Family Dinners, I would like to present a few photos of our dinners over the years.

Here are some choice moments from a lunch we had at Pea Soup Andersons a few years ago:

Louis went into hiding after we noticed how large the Christmas-themed centerpieces were.

Dad drank his coffee “handsfree.” I can’t remember why.

And why tone it down on foreign soil? Here’s a sample of what happened in Italy in 2004:

Louie photographs me being attacked by a fork.

Someone was doing something to make my mom laugh this hard. Tears and abdominal pain are common side effects of our raucous dinners.

A work of art by Louis.

And finally, our yearly trips to Seattle, wherein the entire Cole Family gets together to laugh and eat:

Someone brought a propeller beanie to the dinner table and we all took turns modeling it…

…even the Matriarch of the family, my grandma Nina. See where we all get it?

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Yesterday, I was in aisle 13 of the Vons, scrutinizing the price of canned crab meat, when my cell phone rang. The caller ID told me it was one (if not both) of my parents, so I picked up with a cheerful, “Yo! Whaddup?” It was my mom. “Hey giiiiiiirl!” she cried. As my mom is not in a sorority at the University of Texas, I knew not to take her greeting seriously. “Hi mama,” I chuckled.

“I have an assignment for you!” she said. “What is it?” I asked. “Do you get the Logo network?” I knew this was going to be good.

And it was. The reason for her call was to tell me that I absolutely needed to watch the new season of RuPaul’s Drag Race. It didn’t take much convincing to get me to agree, if we’re being honest. I told her I would and then call her about it the next day. We hung up, bidding one another a hearty, “Later, homeslice!” I returned home (without crab meat) and set the DVR to record the show.

When I woke up this morning, there it was, waiting for me. So, after I took care of a few things, I sat down to check it out (it was, after all, an assignment from my mom, whom I always obey). Allow me to offer you my reaction:

Ho. Ly. Crap.

Drag queens are tremendously entertaining. The padding of chests, the tucking of batches. The high heels! The freaking wigs! Also, they use words like “Country-ass” and “raggedy” and “bitch.” By the way, I don’t know if you know this, but the word “bitch” is quite versatile. Officially, it’s a word for “female dog,” but it can also mean “to complain.” Obviously, it can be used as an insult, but it is often used as a friendly term, as in “You bitches look fiiiiiine!” And the women on this show tend to use the world a lot. At one point, two of the contestants got into a very loud fight. The one known as Mystique, having warned the one called Morgan to “step off,” shouted “Bitch, I am from CHICAGO!” Now, I’ve never visited the Windy City, so I’m no expert, but, is that a threat?

It’s no surprise that there would be fighting. First, it’s a reality show. That’s what they’re about- cat fights, drama and crying. Second, these women refer to themselves as “divas,” thereby upping the likelihood of an ego clash significantly. And finally, these women, lest we forget, are actually MEN, so there’s plenty of testosterone bouncing around in that room, which will inevitably lead to a few clashes. I look forward to the episode where there’s some wig-pulling, high heel-throwing drag queen cage match.

Another thing I learned: Drag queens have sensational skin! Is there some drag queen law that neglecting to exfoliate is punishable by death? And the best skin of all of them belongs to RuPaul herself. I was going to try and make a food analogy, but I didn’t really want to go there. Oh and by the way, my friends, RuPaul is hilarious. The glint in her eyes when she says “The time has come… for you to lip sync FOR YOUR LIFE!” indicates that she’s aware of how over-the-top and dramatic she’s being. I think I’d like to spend the day with her. She could take me to get my nails done and have false eye lashes put on. Then I could give her a taste of my life by taking her out for a really messy burger and then to the CVS to buy some chap stick. Or maybe we’d just go to the Disney Hall to hear the LA Philharmonic.

Bottom line is: Mom, you win. I now watch RuPaul’s Drag Race. Let’s watch it together some time, bitch! (Said in the most respectful and loving way, of course.)

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If you think I’m weird now, wait until you see how weird I used to be. Below is a video from 1987 of me pretending to be “Woodchucker,” a character who appears to like hanging out in her underpants and cooking extensive and off-beat meals. (Take it up with my parents, folks. I’m a product of my environment, after all.)

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Occasionally (as in, maybe 8 times a week), I will think of something from my past that will cause me to burst into uncontrollable laughter and disturb and confuse nearby friends and family.

Last night, I lost my mind at the thought of the following drawing, made by my brother, when he was many years younger:

I hadn’t recently seen this drawing or anything. I just remembered Louis’ rather intricate rendering of an Imperial AT-ST Chicken Walker from Star Wars, coupled with his “best guess” spelling of its name (I think you pronounce that “Chy-sin Wall-ser”) and couldn’t do anything but laugh for about 12 solid minutes. Seriously- I was making horrible gurgling noises and had tears rolling down my face as I tried to explain to an understandably alarmed Paul what was all of a sudden so funny.

It took awhile, but this picture explained everything.

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I know it’s a little early for Halloween-themed videos, but I was going through some old tapes for my godfather, and I found this one from 1993. It’s my god-brother, Sam, in probably the worst looking mask you can find. I personally love the head-t0-body ratio it creates.

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Louis, my excellent brother, has created a new masterpiece. It’s called You’ll Believe Me. Harmonically was heavily inspired by the Beach Boys and Chopin. Give it a listen- I know you’ll be blown away.

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I’m simultaneous guilty of both overwhelming pride and mind-altering jealousy. BRAVO, Louie!

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My dad should be a film reviewer. He and my mom went out to the movies tonight and when I called them afterward, my dad had quite a lot to say about the preview for the upcoming Sarah Jessica Parker/Hugh Grant movie Did You Hear About The Morgans?

“Oh god, and then we saw this preview for a new romantic comedy starring Hugh Grant and Sea Biscuit,” he said, referring to Sarah Jessica’s equine features. He explained the plot thusly: “They’re these two people, and at some point they go out into the woods and run into  a giant grizzly bear. And they say cute things to it while they’re trying to get away.” He went on to explain that the characters had also been relocated from the city to the country because they were in the witness protection program. I told him it sounded lame. He told me that after the preview was over, the people behind him expressed their desire to see it out loud. “So I told Mom, ‘yeah, they’ll go see it right after they go to Solvang to buy knick-knacks.’”

“Ugh. Those people sound stupid,” I said.

“Yeah,” my dad replied. “They have such terrible taste. They’re the kind of people that love little kitty statues. They’re the kind of people that like to wear big sweatshirts with sparkles and ironed-on pictures of bears.”

Look out, Leonard Maltin.

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In December of 2007, well after I had moved out of my parents house, I hosted a birthday party there for David Malloy. Feldman flew in from out of town to surprise the birthday boy- dressed as a woman! I baked a three-layer chocolate cake, which I didn’t let cool enough before I frosted it so it ended up looking like something out of a Dr. Seuss book! We had a craft table, complete with glitter glue and pipe cleaners!

In short, it was different, but we had a great time. However, right after I cut the lopsided cake, things got out of hand:

I don’t think anyone had let my dad near the Bourbon. And I’m pretty sure the cake didn’t look enough like EZ Cheez that he would get the two confused. I can’t remember what caused this photo, but I do remember that Christy, who took it, was having trouble getting the camera to go off, which explains the length of the cheez strand on my dad’s chin.

What I learned from this photo is that dad, you are invited to every party I ever throw.

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