The Lardashians Do Easter Brunch
Some commemorate the resurrection of Jesus Christ by attending mass and wearing pastel. Instead, the Lardashians celebrate the bible's greatest magic trick by beating a Minion piñata on our front lawn.
Flashback to three weeks prior. My mom and I were shopping in Walmart, sorting through the explosion of Easter ephemera that accrued in aisle two, when suddenly I had an epiphany: Our family should host a holiday brunch. I texted our Aunt Sue, who earned her honorary familial title through decades of friendship with my mother, to see what she and her family were up to on Easter Sunday. They are, after all, the Jenners to our Kardashians. We know too much about each other given countless Christmas Eves together, which always end in a haze of Bacardi Razz, so it was time that we bring our relationships to a new level by bringing our twisted holiday tally to two (and counting).
Here’s a rundown of the menu that came about. The items were half-chosen by me and half-chosen by my mom because she does not understand the idea of savory breakfast foods. I know — I feel bad for her too.
- The Pioneer Woman’s Eggs in a Nest [recipe]
- Martha Stewart’s Buttermilk Pancakes [recipe]
- French Toast
- Lemon Bread, for dessert
- Chrissy Teigen’s Spicy Skillet Eggs with Prosciutto
- Tomato and Basil Focaccia, sprinkled with parmesan cheese [recipe]
- Fruit Salad
- Banana Bread
- COOKIES AND CANDY
Within ten minutes of the Longo/Doran’s arrival my father succeeded in shattering a light bulb in the ceiling when he left the loosened champagne bottle unattended and it decided to uncork itself into the skies. This startled me, and I spilled bacon grease onto my left knee and my left shoe. The Lord’s name was most certainly taken in vain.
We ate so much food that embarking on an Easter egg hunt felt like a chore unless they were presented to us on a plate, but we did it anyway. Nobody actually won because my mother told us that there were six eggs per person when there were, in reality, eight. I hope that by the time we eventually find the straggler eggs that they will have multiplied asexually into spores of Starburst jellybeans.
Then, we played “Hide the Matzah” (Afikomen) because Aunt Sue’s son-in-law Brian is Jewish and we felt that he deserved recognition even though Passover isn’t until April. Marla pointed out the matzah that was hiding in our fruit basket, so I selfishly dove on it first because I felt that I deserved compensation for my surprise addition to the spread.
See, on the fated day in Walmart when the Lord of Brunch spoke to me, there was a rabbit piñata that I so wanted to buy and incorporate into our festivities. She was opposed to the idea, so Marla and I went out to purchase one on Easter Eve only to find that they had sold out. I was forced to choose between a Minion and Olaf, and knowing that Aunt Sue has a visceral connection to the snow creature from Frozen, my path was chosen for me.
Consider this tale the origin story of the Easter Miñiota tradition.
Watch the entire shebang captured (mostly) on my Snapchat in the video below to find out what was stuffed inside the rear-end of this cyclops'd Tic Tac. Click here to view my sister’s take on the day using footage from her GoPro that she edited all by herself.
I’m so proud of her that I could barf on my own face. Figure that out, Einstein.
Analyze & Discuss:
Could a rib-eye plausibly be called a filet ~Minion~? AHAHHAHAH HELP I'M SINGLE