| We Talk Pretty One Day | |||||
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I
meant to ask my dinner companion what he did for a living but it came
out as “When do you work?” He looked at me with a quizzical
ex After
my third glass of vino another speaker and I were hot in
conversation. We. neither one of us had a clue what we were saying
but carried on regardless. The person across the table was enthralled
at our courage in conversing in Italian and asked us “You all are
very good Italian speakers why is that?” To which I thought I was
replying “Because we understand each other.” Turns out that what I
was actually saying was “Because we piss on each other.” The words
capiamo and capisciamo are very similar and it would have been an
innocent mistake were it not for the loud laughter coming from the
other seven speakers who knew what in the hell I really did say. I
say throw caution to the wind when trying to speak another language.
But not in France because they’ll cut you a new liver in front of
everyone and tell you to go back to America and never come back to
Paris. Of course since I speak no French I would be likely to
respond thusly “Why thank you I like your bosoms too!” Ciao! KK ************************************************************************** I
like to go to the Italian meet-up because they do it at restaurants
and I get to drink wine eat meatballs and pretend that I am in a café
in Rome. I don’t understand most of what they are saying as I don’t
speak Eyetalianese but I get the gist of some of it and meatballs make
me happy. So do pork rinds but you have to be in a Kansas bar with a
bottle of Tobasco sauce to get the right atmosphere for those. Italians
like to talk with their hands. You can understand what one of them is
saying when they hold out their arm and slam their other forearm into
the inside crook of their elbow. That makes the outward arm thrust up
toward the sky. They do this to me a lot. I think it means either
that they have a big robust penis or ‘I’m having chest pains.’ I keep
meaning to ask KK what that gesture means but my post-menopausal
short-term memory loss keeps me in the dark. Wait a minute…she is sitting right next to me. “KK what does that gesture (I do it) mean?” “Oh.
‘Fuck you.' Oh dear.” I have misinterpreted this and now
I’m trying to remember things I said that would have caused this
reaction from Italians… Let’s
see maybe it was the time I called Fellini a hack. Or perhaps it was
the time I mentioned the theory that Michelangelo’s The Mona Lisa was
really a self-portrait of himself in drag. Or maybe it was the time I
spilled my red wine on that lady’s white Donna Karan crepe pants and
then tried to wipe her crotch with my napkin and then there was the
time… Oh.
I get it. I’m not going to stop going to the meet-ups though and now
I’ll know when somebody is doing the Italian equivalent of shooting me
the finger. Learning a new language is fun. SalGal |



