Yesterday I was at the library with my boring American children. We were sitting there reading boring books about white people eating boring turkeys when these adorable little bambinis from Italy came running in, crying out "Mama, Papi, canna we playa con la computadora?" in pleasantly accented voices.
I was going to ask one of their parents if I could trade them their moppet for one of my kids who say unmusical things like "computER", and, "I love you mom, you're so pretty" instead of 'mami'. But some hawk-eyed librarian was watching me and I think she was on to my grift.
Anyway, my point is, if I had one of those superior Mediterranean children I could record one of them saying it to you like this:
"Mis computadora esta no vive! Esta muerta! Por favora mama belissima, cana I cleana upa my budoira now? And then make-ah you some superiora pastisseries?"
That's right. Italian PLUS French. Suckers.
Waiting for a new ac adapter to arrive. Did you know they're 11 bucks on amazon and 60 at Walmart? Who knew?
See you Tuesday.
I am Vesuvius and I should have married that guy named Paolo. He waited on me once in a restaurant, but I tell you, he gave me the eyes.
I am Vesuvius and I made up that stuff about Paolo.
Ah, how I long to be Italian. I took two years of Italian in college and was taught by a fabulous, totally straight man who wore bright fuschia pants and pink leather shoes. We ate, we laughed...it was paradise. Americans are so.....uhhh...BBQ and rap stars.
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