Posted on 01/20/2006 5:48:08 AM PST by BJClinton
It's Friday, the playoffs are in full swing...yup, it's a good time to be alive.
Alrighty guys.
It was fun playing with you today.
Have a great one.
Well, I killed the thread apparently.
Yes, hard to get silly after those stunts that you and EX pulled. It's like asking to read a Superman comic strip after reading Playboy.
Lol.. one from my brother and one from my sister:
Forty Things in the life of an Italian Child ....
1. You have at least one relative who wore a black dress every day for an
entire year after a funeral.
2. You spent your entire childhood thinking what you ate for lunch was
pronounced "sangwich."
3. Your family dog understood Italian.
4. Every Sunday afternoon of your childhood was spent visiting your
grandparents and extended family.
5. You've experienced the phenomena of 150 people fitting into 50 square
feet of yard during a family cookout.
. You were surprised to discover the FDA recommends you eat three meals a day, not seven.
7. You thought killing the pig each year and having salami, capacollo,
pancetta and prosciutto hanging out to dry from your shed ceiling was
absolutely normal.
8.You ate pasta for dinner at least three times a week, and every Sunday.
9. You grew up thinking no fruit or vegetable had a fixed price and that
the price of everything was negotiable through haggling.
10. You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.
11. You thought everyone's last name ended in a vowel.
12. You thought nylons were supposed to be worn rolled to the ankles.
13. Your mom's main hobby is cleaning.
14. You were surprised to find out that wine was actually sold in stores.
15. You thought that everyone made their own tomato sauce
16. You never ate meat on Christmas Eve or any Friday for that matter.
17. You ate your salad after the main course.
18. You thought Catholic was the only religion in the world.
19. Your were beaten at least once with a wooden spoon or broom.
20. You thought every meal had to be eaten with a hunk of bread in your left
hand.
21. You can understand Italian but you can't speak it.
22. You have at least one relative who came over on the boat.
23 .All of your uncles fought in a World War.
24. You have at least six male relatives or friends named Tony, Frank, Joey
or Louie.
25. You have relatives who aren't really your relatives.
26. You have relatives you don't speak to.
27. You drank wine before you were a teenager.
28. You relate on some level, admit it, to the Godfather and the Sopranos.
29. You grew up in a house with a yard that didn't have one patch of dirt
that didn't have a flower or a vegetable growing out of it.
30. Your grandparent's furniture was as comfortable as sitting on plastic.
Wait!!!! You WERE sitting on plastic.
31. You thought that talking loud was normal.
32. You thought sugared almonds and the Tarantella were common at all
weddings.
33. You thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and money stuffed in
their pockets by their relatives.
34. Your mother is overly protective of the males in the family no matter
what their age.
35. There was a crucifix in every r oom of the house.
36. You couldn't date a boy without getting approval from your father. (oh,
and he had to be Italian)
37. You called pasta "macaroni".
38. You dreaded taking out your lunch at school
39. Going out for a cup of coffee usually meant going out for a cup of
coffee over Zia's house.
40. Every condition, ailment, misfortune, memory loss and accident was
attributed to the fact that you didn't eat something.
You know you're ITALIAN when.....
There is some sort of religious statue in the hallway, living room, front porch and backyard.
The living room is filled with old Bombonieri (wedding souvenirs -they are too pretty to open) with poofy net bows and stale
Almonds.
A portrait of the Pope and Frank Sinatra in the dining room.
God forbid if anyone EVER attempted to eat Chef Boy-are-Dee, Franco American, Ragu, Prego or anything else in a jar or can (tomato paste is the exception).
The following are Italian Holidays- First weekend in October-Grapes for the Wine, 3rd weekend in August-Tomatoes for the Gravy. Speaking of which, it's GRAVY and not Sauce.
Meatballs are made with Pork, Veal and Beef. We are Italians, we don't care about cholesterol.
Turkey is served on Thanksgiving, AFTER the manicotti, gnocchi,
lasagna.
If anyone EVER says ESCAROLE, slap em in the face--its SHCAROLE. For
that matter, if they ever say ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP,
let the idiot know that there is no wedding nor is there an Italian in the soup. Also, the tiny meatballs must be made by hand.
No matter how hard you know you were going to get smacked, you still came home from church after communion, even though
before you went, you stuck half a loaf of bread in the gravy pot, snuck out a fried meatball and chowed down-you'll make up for it
next week at confession.
Sunday dinner was at 3:00...
The kids ate at the kids' table, until they graduated to the dining
room.
The meal went like this...
Table is set with everyday dishes ... doesn't matter if they don't
match ... they're clean, what more do you want? All the utensils go on the right side of the plate and the napkin goes on the left. Put a clean kitchen towel at Grandma & Grandpa's plate because
they won't use napkins. Homemade wine and bottles of 7up on the table. First course, Antipasto ... change plates.
Next, Macaroni (Grandma called all spaghetti Macaroni) ... change
plates. After that, Roasted Meats... Roasted Potatoes... Overcooked vegetables ...change plates. THEN and only then (NEVER AT THE BEGINNING OF THE MEAL) would you eat
the salad (HOMEMADE OIL & VINEGAR DRESSING ONLY) ... change plates Next, Fruit & Nuts-in the shell (on paper plates because you ran out of the other ones, or on napkins). Coffee (Espresso for Grandpa, "Merican" coffee for the rest") with Anisette.
Hard Cookies to dip in the coffee. The kids go play ... the men go to lay down ... the women clean the kitchen.
Getting screamed at by Mom or Grandma-half the sentence was English, the other half Italian.
Italian mothers never threw a baseball in their life, but can nail you in the head with a shoe thrown from the kitchen, while you're in the living room.
. . .Not even close, buddy! I've only just begun to get silly!! No more of your silliness interruptus or I shall taunt you a second time!
I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.
That was cruel! They could have at least yelled out the window, "Moooooooooooooove!"
Did you see the piece of plastic and spit fly?
no. . . . no I missed the flying spit.
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