My Big Fat Greek Wedding

You better get married soon.

You're starting to look old.

My dad has been saying that to me

since I was 15...

because nice Greek girls are supposed

to do three things in life.

Marry Greek boys, make Greek babies,

and feed everyone...

until the day we die.

When I was growing up,

I knew I was different.

The other girls were blond and delicate.

And I was a swarthy 6-year-old

with sideburns.

I so badly wanted to be

like the popular girls...

all sitting together, talking...

eating their Wonder Bread sandwiches.

What's that?

It's moussaka.

Moose ka-ka?

And while the pretty girls

got to go to Brownies...

I had to go to Greek school.

At Greek school,

I learned valuable lessons like.

"If Nick has one goat and Maria has nine,

how soon will they marry?"

My mom was always cooking foods

filled with warmth and wisdom...

and never forgetting that side dish

of steaming-hot guilt.

Niko, don't play with the food.

When I was your age, we didn't have food.

-Ma?

-What?

Why do I have to go to Greek school?

When you get married, don't you want to be

able to write your mother-in-law a letter?

Niko, come on, eat!

We lived in a normal, middle-class Chicago

neighborhood of tasteful, modest homes.

Our house, however,

was modeled after the Parthenon...

complete with Corinthian columns,

and guarded by statues of the gods.

In case the neighbors had

any doubts about our heritage...

they could just check out

our subtle tribute to the Greek flag.

My dad believed in only two things...

that Greeks should educate non-Greeks

about being Greek...

and that any ailment, from psoriasis

to poison ivy, could be cured with Windex.

Six years later, I was 12.

Athena, my older, perfect sister, was 15.

And my brother, Nick, was 11.

Every morning, my dad would lecture us

on the "history of our people...

"the great civilization, the Greeks. "

Now, name three things the Greeks did first.

Astronomy, philosophy, and democracy.

Bravo! Very good.

Now, give me a word...

any word...

and I show you, how the root of that word...

is Greek.

Sweet Lord, again.

How about "arachnophobia"?

"Arachna," that comes from

the Greek word for spider...

and "phobia" is a phobia, it means "fear."

So, "fear of spiders." There you go.

Okay, Mr. Portokalos,

how about the word "kimono"?

-"Kimono."

-Good one.

Kimono, kimono.

Of course, "kimono"

comes from the Greek word...

"cheimonas," which means "winter."

So, what do you wear in the wintertime...

to stay warm? A robe.

You see, "robe," "kimono." There you go.

-Bye-bye.

-Goodbye, Mr. Portokalos.

Toula!

You should be proud to be Greek.

A couple more years went by...

and my dad brought his mother

from Greece to live with us...

because we weren't weird enough.

-Where is she going?

-Mama, please!

The Greeks and the Turks friends now.

We told my grandma the war was over...

but she still slept

with a knife under her pillow.

Stop hitting me!

Niko, be careful.

She has a very mean punch.

Nice Greek girls who don't find a husband

work in the family restaurant.

So, here I am, day after day, year after year.

Thirty, and way past my expiration date.

My God. It's freezing.

Fotoula! You closed last night,

you're opening this morning?

I have no life.

Fotoula, you talk to me sometime.

Ma, you're gonna make me

swallow my tongue.

Toula! Is Nikki here?

What's up?

No, my Nikki. She was supposed

to come over to curl my hairs.

Nick, did you check the meat

before you signed for it?

-Dad checked it.

-It better be fresh.

My brother has two jobs,

to cook and to marry a Greek virgin.

Voula, have something to eat

before you go to work.

If nagging was an Olympic sport,

my Aunt Voula would have a gold medal.

Taki, you couldn't wait for me?

Sorry.

Sorry, sorry. Don't "sorry" me.

Look at this. Rash.

Somebody gave me the mati.

-Put some Windex on it.

-Oh, Gus, please.

Voula! This works.

Last night, my toe was as big as my face.

Why you not wait for me?

Gus. He wants to talk.

Anyway, I tell her...

-I will send her to Greece to find somebody.

-She's not too old.

She's okay.

In Greece...

don't tell anyone how old she is.

-She won't go.

-She won't go?

It's like she don't want to get married.

Come on, boys. Go in there.

My sister married young and became

a Greek baby-breeding machine.

Hey, guys. Come on, get out.

Just a quick coffee.

I have to drop the boys off at hockey

and then I got to get to the Jewel.

-Bread?

-Pantyhose are on for 99 cents.

Then the priest is coming to bless

the new house, so I have to make diples.

Can you believe it? I'm out of honey.

Put that back for me.

You dropped my tzatziki.

-Angelo!

-Nikki, shut up.

My cousins have two volumes,

loud and louder.

...your big-ass girlfriend. Thanks, Toula.

Hey, Toula.

We're not that late.

Hi, everybody.

Nikki, how come you didn't come

to curl my hair this morning?

Ma, I had to drop Dimo at work.

Now I got to go open the travel agency,

because some jack-off...

and his big-ass girlfriend are too busy.

Tell her I open up the cleaners every day.

It's time she does something for a change.

You know who's there this morning?

-You're always at the beauty parlor.

-My husband.

-Your nails, hair, everything.

-Don't talk about my hair.

You're lazy.

You and your big-ass girlfriend do nothing.

Did somebody sit on your hair?

It looks a little flat.

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