Surprise! It's raining! You can sit on the couch all winter and watch your ass spread like warm butter, or you can grab a date and hit the town for dinner and a show, like Fuh-Geddaboudit!, the "interactive mafia musical" playing every Sunday night through December 17 at Julia's on Broadway (300 Broadway E, 860-1818, $40). This show is so much fun it oughta be against the law boasts the playbill, presented at the start of your four-course, family-style Italian dinner with the newly transplanted Biscotti mafia from New Jersey. The Biscottis run an olive-oil-and-waste-management empire, and the premise of the show is the impending opening of a Seattle branch to replace a few "downsized" employees. Congratulations: You have just paid $40 to attend a mafia job fair.

You know who would love to attend an interactive mafia job fair? Your grandmother from North Dakota. This is what your money gets you with the Biscottis: big hair, miles of cleavage, and pimp suits from LeRoy Menswear, all milling about your table while you eat, acting up a small storm. Sound a little invasive and uncomfortable? Only when you get frisked twice during the salad course to ensure you're not "packing heat" ("Nope, says host Vito Carbonara Biscotti. "Just a smile!"). Carla Cacciatore hunts the tables for husband number four, Don Giuseppe Biscotti falls asleep at your elbow, and Vito Carbonara woos the ladies with so much nonsensical flattery ("If you was any smoother, you'd be chocolate") that they can't help but flirt back ("I'd like to spread myself on this table and have you stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey. Happy holidays!"). Grandma be damned.

When the actors get tired of acting, they sing. This they do exceptionally well. They even provide new mafia lyrics to old classics so that your grandmother can sing along. "When a car makes a sound/and your gang hits the ground/that's-a mafia!" She is tickled pinker.

Meanwhile, you're enjoying Julia's family-style Italian dinner, which includes a starter salad with smoked salmon and cheeses, rustic bread with olive oil, pasta with roasted peppers and eggplant, chicken, and a fruit sorbet (vegetarian and vegan options available). It's tasty and filling.

Fuh-Geddaboudit! is a gold mine for out-of-town relatives. Aunts and uncles will shit themselves with pleasure when asked to jump onstage and join the Biscottis for a sing-along. Your grandmother will nod knowingly when one character sings about how he's "gotta get right by god." At the end of the evening, everyone will be tickled raw.

But if you're hard up for grandmothers or other out-of-state relatives, I'd suggest buying $40 worth of scratch lottery tickets, and staying at home and masturbating until your hands fall asleep.

Or you could spend an evening at Chopstix Dueling Piano Bar (11 Roy St, 270-4444), which is not unlike being trapped in the shower with your father while he belts out Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight" again and again and again. Inside it's humid. Crowded. Everyone is lathered up and shakin' it to Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child of Mine." The acoustics are grand.

The pianists at Chopstix work the room from atop a tiny platform crowded with two baby grand pianos. Both pianists are male and in their 30s. One is bald, his head is slick with sweat and he is wearing a cape. The other is slowly unbuttoning the collar of his blue dress shirt. They are singing a duet: "If ya want my body and ya think I'm sexy, c'mon girl, let me know!" (Several older women let them know.) They are armed with canned jokes and wacky alternative song lyrics to Justin Timberlake's "SexyBack," which never fails to amuse someone. Crowd participation—dancing, singing, clapping—is required, even for bartenders and wait staff ("Any persons choosing not to have fun may require a note from their doctor," cautions their website). Song requests are welcome. A big tip places your song of choice at the top of their to-do list. Anything over $20 will buy you approximately 40 reprises of Journey's classic "Don't Stop Believin'." Your father's shower does not take requests.

Here's what else your father's shower lacks: a $7 cover charge, a friendly wait staff, syringes squirting vibrant Jell-O shots, and a tasty Santa Fe chicken salad ($14). But your father's shower has its own private perks. Your mother will probably make you a big, fat dinner for free, and because you're family, your father might waive his cover charge. But if you plan on spurning your father to see Chopstix's dueling pianists struggle to outplay each other as they pound out an ecstatic encore of "Mr. Roboto," you will be disappointed. There are no great battles of talent at Chopstix Dueling Piano Bar because the musicians don't actually duel. They're too busy working the crowd together in silly hats and capes. Eventually, the pianists light up the crowd with a stirring rendition of "American Pie," complete with humorously large American-flag top hats. The crowd goes wild.

If you're an avid crowd watcher, or you enjoy throwing money at musicians to sing piano-based versions of "Greased Lightning" and "867-5309 (Jenny)," Chopstix is worth a try. If, however, you find the sight of your father and/or a pack of middle-agers recapturing their youth through "timeless classics" depressing and avoidable, skip Chopstix Dueling Piano Bar and stay home.