My mother's a half-Jew, my father's a Southern Baptist and I started drinking at 15.

After seeing a community theater advertisement for the Steve Solomon production, "My mother's Italian, my father's Jewish and I'm in therapy," I began to think about my own level of "mut-ness." Let's start with my mother.

Madre: She a half-jew hippie, who looks like an Aryan princess. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the whole package ... basically Hitler's wetdream, our whole family makes extremely inappropriate jokes about this. I think if born a little earlier, she may have possibly been a real-life version of Shoshanna from "Inglourious Basterds."

Padre de Gato: He's an Irish, Southern Baptist, good ole' boy surfer, who plays blues guitar and refuses to stop using the term "hollaback." Unfortunately, I inherited his Irish skin and religion. Fortunately, I inherited his Irish tolerance for alcohol, which makes the whole Southern Baptist thing a lot more bearable.

Now, I've never seen, "My mother's Italian, my father's Jewish and I'm in therapy," so my opinion is basically based on the title (which I can do because it's my blog) but I don't see why this guy is so pissed. I mean you have good food and Hannukah/Christmas combo. That seems pretty badass. All I got was pale skin and fiscal responsility, not to mention the whole don't dance or you're going to burn in hell thing.

So, having decided that Mr. Solomon is a cry baby. I am going to create a one-woman show about what events really drive someone to therapy, such as being told by your 2nd grade teacher at your Christian school, that Power Rangers are evil and if you play with them God will be mad. (Yeah, I remember. Thanks for ruining Power Rangers for me, you bitch!)

Having said that, look for my production of, "My mother's a half-Jew, my father's a Southern Baptist and I started drinking at 15," on a street corner near you.