Sunday, January 27, 2008

POST NUMBER 100: Those Crazy Italians

Crazy Italian number one: my son. He spent the afternoon and evening with the mil and went to the hairdresser. If y'all remember last time, he took the liberty of asking the barber to shave another ci on his right side of his head, he went virtually bilateral. Well, this time he decided to shave a heart with the letter "S" in the middle of it..."S" for Sara, the girl he's in love with in his middle school class who wants to be his good friend forever...there is nothing worse than hearing that line: You are and will always be my special friend. Life is hard when you wear your heart on your sleeve, and I am so sure that it is about to get REALLY hard for Jordan tomorrow morning at school when his class sees what he did. Aren't blatant declarations of love so beautiful...and painful? Maybe I'll shove a hat in his schoolbag just in case he gets cold feet. Although isn't it better to have lived and loved than never to have loved at all? One other thing...Sofia got all pissed off when she thought the "S" was for her and Jordan set her straight.

And on that note, I just got back from one wedding I don't think I'll ever forget. There is nothing worse than Italian weddings, because the wedding generally consists in a five hour sit-down chow down, and I am not one to be able to sit still that long, not only that, but I am just NOT hungry. The morning started off peachy. I got dressed in a very short black velvet skirt, a black vest with white pinstripes (love vests), a white button-down translucent shirt, a black beaded double strand necklace and a pair of playfully aggressive leopard high-heeled mary-jane-like shoes with a black patent leather strap and a little red bow. I was lookin' cute, the only problem was that I NEVER wear heels. We stopped at the MOST machine to get out some money on our way to the wedding, and I swear I got out of the car, tripped and almost went flying. These adorable shoes have a funky clippy closure that unhooked, luckily, and I mean really luckily, I have been doing Pilates for a year and a half so I managed to catch myself without breaking an ankle. Phew.
Have I mentioned that this morning was like 32° here and cloudy? Well, there I was, half naked and freezing my butt off, waiting outside for the bride to show up who was of course late. By the time she got there I could no longer feel my toes. Then, they got married in a civil ceremony and to get to the top, I had to walk up a RAMP. A flat freaking ramp in these high heel shoes. Somehow I managed to get up there with some help, only to find myself in an unheated room - this country drives me crazy.
Thank God the ceremony was quick and painless and miraculously I was able to get back down the ramp without injury, only to have to stand outside another forty minutes for pictures and other stuff. Oh, btw, when the bride and groom came outside, Italian tradition dictates that the guests must throw rice at them. So, we all had rice in our hands and some confetti, as well. This must have been a special group because not only did we throw rice and confetti, but the groom's friends threw banana peels and chunks of grass at them too. That alone should have prepared me for what was to come.

We stopped in an unheated bar for an aperitivo of something alcoholic and some chips, olives and peanuts. I have never! Then, we got back into the car, blasted the heat on our feet and drove up the mountain to Arcidosso. I was jamming to my iPod off in la la land, so the forty-five minute drive passed quickly. The lunch was at Luca's Uncle's restaurant Al Solito Posto and man can they cook it up goooood!
The guests sat down and the wine started flowing along with the conversation. I had about two glasses of wine and was bombed and feelin' fine, especially because plates of pecorino cheese with five different types of jellies - one of them SPICY! hit the tables - loved the spicy one. After that it was a selection of typical Italian cold cuts: prosciutto and salami, different types of crostini with liver pate, artichokes and mushrooms. I do not like Italian cold cuts, but I love anything with vegetables. At a certain point I started to feel kind of dizzy (Sofia just entered the room wearing my leopard heels - note: she walks in them much better than I do:))too much wine, too little food. Thankfully, the "first plate" arrived - pici pasta with a spicy red sauce (arrabbiata-bona)that I downed in five flat.

Btw, there was a keyboard player hooked up to a karaoke screen as the entertainment...interesting. You know how when you sit and sit and sit and sip and eat and sit and sit and sip, you get really tired? Add VERY slow music on top of that...torture. Just as I got up to go outside and breathe, I heard YMCA come blasting on the karaoke machine, so I did a little half turn in my swooshy skirt only to see two men dressed as women come walking through the door next to the keyboardist. Hmmm, I thought, things are pickin' up. Well, one of the men was wearing a teased blonde wig, sunglasses and a trench coat; the other stallion had a mussed brunette wig with sunglasses and a trench coat on. They went right in front of the keyboardist and began dancing. All at once they unzipped their trenchcoats and were NAKED underneathe except one was wearing (Okay, I kid you not, not even I am creative enough to event this scene)a black thong with a tiger protruding from the crotch, and the other had on a pair of tighty-whities with a hose-like thing-a-ma-jig hanging down, that he was just not filling out! Thong boy turned around and BARED ALL to the delight of one seventy year old grandma who had hopped up on her chair to take a picture while shaking HER groove thing. My mouth was hanging open for the entire twelve minute dance that consisted in a lot of bumping, grinding and smacking. The groom was loving it, the bride was mortified. Yeah, I must admit I was shakin' my thing a little, after all it was YMCA - the ONLY American song they played the entire wedding. At a certain point, everyone raised their cloth napkins and began waving them in the air...where the hell am I????? loving it.
Okay, way too much excitement- I did ask my brother-in-law to send me a photo so I could post it, but he hasn't sent it and I still couldn't post it even if I tried- so you'll just have to use your imagination...which will never in a million years be enough to fully grasp the scene I witnessed. Back to the food. The next "first plate" was tortelli with meat sauce, then came salad, french fries (really good french fries even better than MCDs) roast beef with mushroom sauce, and fried lamb.
At this point, things had died down from the peep show, so one drunk guy got it going again with a little Salsa! I got myself right up and hopped in that dancing line train that wrapped itself around the restaurant and waved my little white napkin in the air. I have never!
So, here I am now, home, tired and still in my skirt. Who knows what tomorrow will bring in this crazy little place called Tuscany.


Karen Mayes said...

I don't know much about the Italian culture, but since you mentioned "hairdresser" more than once, is going to the hairdresser a popular pasttime for Italians? I don't mean it as a sign of disrespect; I ask out of curiousity about the pasttimes of Italians...

Unknown said...

That's funny you should ask. YES! YES! It is part of the Italian Woman Culture. I don't think I went to the hairdresser in all of my years in the USA as much as I've been this past year. To get your hair washed and styled, which most women do once a week - even more, it costs about 20 dollars. If you could see the way these women dress and leave the house immaculate even to walk the dog, you would be shocked. At first I was like the hell with this and walked around proudly in my sweats and sneakers, now I'm like the hell with that and I've decided to join the primping process. It really makes you feel like a woman getting your hair done, especially because I have found a love for straightening my normally curly hair - I look like a different person. Sometimes, it's nice to feel like a different person. A woman just needs to change every now and then - the Italians get that. Good question! Hope I've answered it...Jodi

Anonymous said...

Ok, I'm trying to figure out how long it took you to write that?! LOL Whose wedding was it anyway?

Moral of the story is...? Oh, yeah, don't wear high heels to Italian weddings! ROTFL

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