Last night was ridiculous, to say the least. Cortney and I went out with her hairdressing-fuck of a cousin, Gian Claudio. Even his name should be a clue. Every single time we go out with Claudio, I lose brain cells because he is such a piece of shit.
I was under the impression that we were going to a discoteca, so I was stoked. I don't know why I like these chaotic dance parties so much since no one hesitates to tell me what a horrible dancer I am. Actually, Claudio told me last night that I lack sensuality when I dance. I'm not trying to attract anyone with my booty quakes, I simply enjoy mocking these horrendous dance venues by busting one horrible move after the other. But much to my dismay, we did not go to a discoteca. Instead, we headed to a restaurant in Palermo that I really didn't believe could exisit in a country with such delicious food....an American food joint reminiscent of Chili's or Red Robin, only so much worse. It was disgusting. Gian Claudio always brings a friend when we go out, probably because he wants to show off his prize American girls. The flavor of the week, Giuseppe, wasn't so bad, so I was pleasantly surprised. The rest of Claudio's friends are wide-eyed feminine Sicilian boys with nose studs and hairsprayed architectural masterpieces that they call hair. Giuseppe is going into the Italian military so he had a nice shaved head. I haven't seen a number 2 buzz-cut on a dude in three weeks, so this was a nice change. So after the soggy, fried appetizers came out, a waiter wearing a du-rag brought out a fucking keg of beer. Maybe not a keg, per se, but some big old fish-tank looking thing with a spout. I sat in my chair and shut my mouth for the first time that night and stared at it in complete awe. There were four of us, and so much beer. The waiter started joking with everyone that the only word I know how to say in Italian is 'Grazie'. Everyone looks at me in disbelief when they find out I don't speak a lick of Italian. I'm sorry I am so ignorant to think that I could come here with such a lack of knowledge for the language.
Here is my Italian vocabulary in a nutshell:
Ciao- hello and goodbye. Everyone knows this....It seemingly applies to everything so I say it all the time.
Grazie- Thank you...
Prego- You're welcomed...I never say this though because usually they are not.
Sempre- Always. This comes in handy when saying something like "Sono sempre ubriaco", or "I am always drunk"
Ubriaco- Drunk. I learned this not because I asked. I learned this because I heard it referred to me.
Lei- This means 'She'. I know this because if I hear 'lei', it means someone is talking about me.
testa di minchia- dickhead. This is a good word to know.
Buttana- as a woman, you don't want to be called this, unless you are a prostitute.
Allora- So.
Aspetta- This is like 'hold on' or 'one moment'. If you yell this in a bar of crowded Italians, they will shut up for one second and then start talking immediately. True story, this happened to Cortney and I last week.
Andiamo- Lets go.
Here is my Sicilian Vocabulary-
Que Boi- What do you want. Say this in the ugliest way ever, and you are Sicilian. Also, it wouldn't hurt to gesticulate a little bit either.
I can understand about 30 percent of what people say, but those are my fundamental responses. But when people speak Sicilian, it is a whole bunch of trickery. I yelled at Gian Claudio and his minions last night for speaking Sicilian. They do it just so Cortney won't understand them. That is called being a triffling piece of shit.
Anyways, long story short, everyone loves a stupid American girl. The waiter let me keep my beer glass because I apparently did not let go of it the entire night. Like a baby with a bottle, I found comfort in that glass. With much gratitude, I said 'Grazie', which caused an uproar of snickering Italians. We left that putrid excuse for American chain-restaurant food and Gian Claudio finally picked up on my desire to go to a discoteca. We drove to an abandoned warehouse with crumbling walls which looked and smelled more like a sardine canning factory than a discoteca, but what the fuck do I know? We met up with another one of Gian Claudio's buddies, another Guiseppe, who claimed he spoke Engish. English he did not speak. The only thing I heard him say all night was 'Miami' and 'Sexy Bitch', and why? I do not know. They decided it was too late to go into the discoteca, and that we should go to Mondello instead. I was pissed, but Mondello is bella! It is the Laguna Beach of Sicily. Beautiful houses, a row of trendy bars, the ocean. It makes the bars in Casteldaccia look like the ugly dive bars that they are. What more could a wannabee Sicilian socialite such as myself ask for? Claudio drove right past these places.
I have to make a quick comment on the way Italians drive. Italians drive like they are three hours late to a funeral. Claudio drives worse than this. He drove 100 mph down a hill and recklessly passed three cars that were going 70. I fear for my life and clutch the side of the door in terror with white knuckles when I am in the car with him. I have already been in one horrible car accident, and I surely don't need another brink of death experience in a foreign country. If he crashed his car it would split into a million little piece, I am positive. It reminds me of this one time when I rode to L.A to with a high school aquaintance to film a rap video about art history and we made it in twenty-five minutes because he went 110 mph.
I got a little carried away up there, sorry. So we stopped outside a bustling outdoor cafè filled with hungry and wasted Italianos and had a beer. I was more concerned with two kittens I spotted in a rain gutter at the top of the cafè. I was standing on a chair trying to get the kittens down and everyone was looking at me like I was crazy. I fucking am. The 'English-speaking' Guiseppe started to tell Cortney and I that his dream is to open a bread shop in New Jersey. This was too much to handle for Cortney and I so we had a spasm of uncontrollable laughter and killed his dream very quickly. By this time it was already three in the morning, and I was starting to fade away into the depths of sleep. Gian Claudio and his possè of Sicilian idiots were really starting to get on my last nerves. So we finally took off back to Altavilla....or so I fucking thought. I wasn't drunk at all and so sleep took it's toll on me and I passed out in the back of Gian Claudio's speeding hatchback. When I woke up, we were at the top of some hill with a view of all of Sicily and it was nearly four in the morning. I was fucking livid. I told him to take us the fuck home, which didn't translate at all. Why did he feel the need to take us to a romantic spot when Cortney is his second cousin and I am clearly about to enter REM sleep? He started saying how offended he was that I was sleeping and so I did what anyone on the brink of Zombie-ism would do. I BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM. Well, not really. But I definetly called him an insane excuse for a human being and told him that maybe if he didn't do so much coke he would be able to sleep like a regular fucking person. He didn't understand this so I got physical and started hitting him and slapping his well-manicured face. Violence is a universal language. I did everything I could to make him take us home. I blew cigarette smoke in face, I took his man purse hostage....nothing worked. Finally after I got out of the car and started walking, he got the picture and took us home.
I swore that I would never go out with him again, but alas, we're giving Gian Claudio a chance that he doesn't deserve tonight.
Fuck.
Also, the mafia does exist in Sicily. When you park your car anywhere in Palermo, you have to pay a man or else he will break your window with a baseball bat. Isn't that nice.
Goddammit, I wish I was in Rome.
No comments:
Post a Comment