One of my fondest memories I have of the Easter holiday took place several years ago out on Long Island. Picture it, Tommy’s mother, seated on her living room floor playing with her granddaughter while trying to teach her how to give an Easter greeting. With her thick, Lawng Islund accent, she pleaded for her to, “SAY EASTA” while the both of them giggled like two silly kids. She kept repeating it over and over again, “SAY EASTA” and we were so amused by it that for months on end, Tommy and I would drop the command out of nowhere to one another. We could be squeezing a zucchini in Whole Foods, on a dance-floor in Brooklyn or on the beach in Costa Rica and out of nowhere, either Tommy or I would scream out, “SAY EASTA” to the other for shits and giggles. So here we are, on the precipice of the Easter holiday and at least once a day, I’m looking over at our little Spumoni Face and demanding for her to, “SAY EASTA”! Of course Mamma Biscuit can barely say WOOF so she just stares at me with that adogable head tilt that only pugs can do, confused before she begins thinking that I’m gonna give her a peanut better treat.
At any rate, Mamma Biscuit and family would like to wish you all a very Happy EASTA. It seems that Mamma has been hatched this year and ready to show you all her fabulous, new EASTA blouse. Taken from the fashionable racks in Tokyo, this peach and green polka-dotted blouse is really making all of the bitches at the Easter egg hunt at the local dog run thirsty for Mamma’s swag!
I can’t wait for Mamma to prance right into my mother’s home this Sunday like she owns the place wearing this flowy number. My mother is gonna die, simply die over it.
Happy Easta everyone!