GRSiK26

TO ALL MY ITALIAN FRIENDS AND NOT
>I'M SURE SOMEONE CAN RELATE TO THIS


> Christmas Eve - Italian Style
>
> I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to
> my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would
> be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see how an
> Italian family spends the holidays. I thought my
> mother and my >date would hit it off. Boy, I was
> wrong.
> >
> I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended
> the invitation. "I know these family things can be a
> little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great,
> and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve."
> >
> "Sounds fine to me," Karen said.
> >
> I had only known my mother for 31 years when I told
> her I'd be bringing Karen with me. "She's a very nice
> girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all
> of you."
> >
> "Sounds fine to me," my mother said.
>
> And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two
> sounds-fine-to-me. What more could I want?
> >
> I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian
> households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the
> season - an Italian woman's raison d'être. She cleans.
> She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of
> the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian
> women live for. I should also point out, I suppose,
> that when it comes to the kind of women that make
> Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean.
> She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the
> largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being. I
> brought her anyway.
>
> 7p.m. - we arrive.
> Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour
> waiting for the other guests to show up. During that
> half hour, my mother grills Karen like a cheeseburger
> and cannily determines that Karen does not clean,
> cook, or bake. My father is equally observant. He
> pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the
> largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being."
> >
> 7:30p.m. - Others arrive.
> Uncle Ziti walks in with my Aunt Mafalde, assorted
> kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room
> table for antipasto. When I offer to make Karen's
> plate she says, "Thank you. But none of those things,
> okay?" She points to the anchovies. "You don't like
> anchovies?" I ask. "I don't like fish," Karen
> announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of
> foods-that-swim are baking, broiling and simmering in
> the next room.
> >
> My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things are
> getting uncomfortable. Aunt Mafalde asks Karen what
> her family eats on Christmas Eve. Karen, "Knockwurst."
> My father, who is still staring in a daze, at Karen's
> >chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur,
> "Knockers?" My mother kicks him so hard he gets a
> blood clot. None of this is turning out the way I'd
> hoped.
> >
> 8:00p.m. - Second course.
> The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the
> table. Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll
> make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks
> me to join her in the kitchen. I take my "Merry
> Christmas" napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry
> Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen. "I
> don't want to start any trouble," my mother says
> calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands.
> "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to throw
> acid in her face." "Come on," I tell her. "It's
> Christmas. Let her eat what she wants." My mother
> considers the situation, then nods. As I turn to walk
> back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder.
> "Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with
> this girl?" I've only known her for three weeks."
> "Well, it's your life", she tells me, "but if you
> marry her, she'll poison you."
> >
> 8:30p.m. - More fish.
> My stomach is knotted like one of those macramé plant
> hangers that are always three times larger than the
> plants they hold. All the women get up to clear away
> the spaghetti dishes, except for Karen, who, instead,
> lights a cigarette. "Why don't you give them a little
> hand?" I politely suggest. Karen makes a face and
> walks into the kitchen carrying three forks. "Dear,
> you don't have to do that," my mother tells her,
> smiling painfully. "Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the
> forks on the sink. As she reenters the dining room.
> >
> More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen tries a
> piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy,
> like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and
> pounds her chest like one of those old women you
> always
> >see in the sixth row of a funeral home. Aunt Mafalde
> does the same. Karen, believing that this is
> something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve,
> bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Uncle Ziti
> >doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures
> fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth.
> >
> 10:00p.m. - Coffee, dessert.
> Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of
> lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother
> finally loses it and throws a cannoli at her. I guess
> it had to happen sooner or later. Karen, believing
> that this is something that all Italian women do on
> Christmas Eve, picks up cannoli and throws it back.
> >
> "This is fun," Karen says. Fun? No. Fun is when you
> fall down an elevator shaft. But, amazingly, everyone
> is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer -
> even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs
> and says, "Get this bitch out of my house."
> >
> Sounds fine to me.
> >
> THE END
> >
> If you aren't in stitches by now, you don't know
> Italians!
>

RRQT

That is something that I could see happening to me ... Going to dinner at someone's house and them having a whole meal of fish - cause I don't eat fish either ... That would be aweful!!

900 Fury

i dated an Italian chick once, and Her MOm cooked the most amount of food I have EVER seen for dinner. I was STUFFED. Then she's like "hava some more-a Ribs". Oh man, I thought I would explode.

kegstander83

The mom sounds just like my grandmother that is like 74 years old... I can relate to that.. Thats pretty funny.

GRSiK26

I catch myself doin that... I make way too much food for only 2 people, my grandma ALWAYS forces MORE food than you could possibly eat!!