Kitty Cat Chicken Marsala

Do you remember the scene in Wedding Crashers when Jane Seymour assaults Owen Wilson with her topless body and demands he call her “Kitty Cat???” (Click here if you don’t know what I’m talking about or if you want a reminder of the hilarious-but-inappropriate-for-your-work-computer scene.)

Well my Seeester has that scene nailed down to a T (just the kitty cat quote — she doesn’t force her half naked body on anybody).

So, on Sunday, when we all gathered for a family birthday celebration and the kids insisted they sit next to me and I realized Brad Pitt would end up sitting next to my Seeester, I pulled her aside and told her I wanted her to reach over, grab his leg in the middle of dinner and break out the “Just call me Kitty Cat” impression. She almost peed her pants at the idea and agreed to do it.

Things got a bit more interesting as we sat down to dinner … because my Seeester is left handed and the rest of us are right, she had to sit at the end of the table to avoid knocking elbows with her neighbor. In order to carry out the prank, Brad Pitt would need to sit next to her, which meant he was sandwiched between my Seeester and brother-in-law. I was able to play it off pretty well by saying “Hey! Sit across from me!” because I was sandwiched between my niece and nephew on the opposite side of the table. And Brad Pitt just went with it.

We finished our salads and I was giving my sister “the eye” telling her to do it. But she couldn’t keep a straight face. Failing her mission, I turned to my brother-in-law and was able to explain what I needed him to do during a moment when Brad Pitt stepped away from the table. I bribed him by telling him I would buy his hot wings when the super bowl rolls around this year. He agreed to do it.

Brad Pitt returned to the table.

The chicken marsala, mashed potatoes and roasted carrots were served. My Seeester and I fidgeted in our seats, ready and waiting, watching, wide-eyed with excitement. I kept giving my brother-in-law the nod. And the eye. And the head jerk telling him to just do it! Grab the leg! Purr like a cat! Like a kitty cat!

And nothing… he couldn’t do it.

So I turned to my Dad. Somehow the stars aligned and Brad Pitt excused himself from the table long enough for me to explain the mission and see if my Dad was up for it. He leaned forward in his chair, squinted his eyes, laughed really hard and said he might pee his pants because he thought it was so funny. And he accepted the mission!

After dinner we gathered around to open gifts and I finagled it so that the only seat left open for Brad Pitt was between my Mom and Dad on the sofa. At this point, everyone in the family knew what was supposed to happen, except for Brad Pitt, and we were all on the edges of our seats.

The kids grabbed the gifts. Brad Pitt entered the room and sat on the sofa. Between my parents. And my Dad reached over, put his hand on Brad Pitt’s knee, looked at him and said… “Just call me cat. Kitty cat.”

Brad Pitt turned, looked at my Dad and said “Okay, Kitty Cat.”

I think Brad Pitt has been around me and my family too long. He wasn’t even fazed. And he laughed as hard as the rest of us when it was all said and done. And no one peed their pants. As far as I know.

In my opinion, that is what family birthday dinners are all about.