So we move to LA. My father gets a job at the Palm Restaurant. My Uncle Junior works there who was a Jehovah's Witness, believe it or not. He went from Catholic to Jehovah. So basically, my grandmother wanted Us all to switch from Catholic to Jehovah, you know? Meanwhile, we're from Harlem; my father's doing coke, you know; my mother thinks she's Ann Margaret. She's teasing her hair with a bottle of vodka, you know? So dysfunctional, cross-addicted family, still cooking pasta on Sundays... Um, and uh, and the meatballs, they-they wind up being burnt, like you know? It just got so dysfunctional. It got pretty bad. 

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