(Must be read with an Italian accent, preferably out loud)
One day ima gonna Malta to bigga hotel. Ina morning I go to eat breakfast. I tella waitress I wanna two pissis toast. She brings me only one piss. I tella her I want to piss. She says go to the toilet. I say you no understand. I wanna to piss onna my plate.
She say you better not piss onna plate, you sonna ma bitch.
Later I go to eat at the bigga restaurant. The waitress brings me a spoon and a knife but no fock. I tella her I wanna fock. She tella me everyone wanna fock. I tella her you no understand. I wanna fock on the table.
She say better not fock on the table, you sonna ma bitch.
I don't even know the lady and she calla me sonna ma bitch.
So I go to my room inna hotel and there is no sheit onna my bed. I calla the manager and tella him I wanna sheit. He tella me to go to the toilet. I say you no understand. I wanna sheit on my bed. He say you better not sheit onna bed, you sonna ma bitch.
I don't even know the man and he calla me a sonna ma bitch.
to the checkout and the man at the desk say: "Peace on you."
I say piss on you too, you sonna ma bitch. I gonna go back to Italy.
1. You're 5'4",
can bench press 325 pounds, shave twice a day, but you still cry when
your mother yells at you.
Giuseppi walks into work, and he says, "Ey, Tony! You know who's-a George Washington?"
Tony says, "No, Giuseppi, who's-a George Washington?"
He says, "Hah! George-a Washington's the first-a President of-a United States. I'm-a go to night school, learn all about-a United States, and become-a U.S.-a citizen."
A couple of days later, Giuseppi walks into work and says.
"Ey, Tony, you know who's-a Abraham Lincoln?"
Tony says, "No, Giuseppi, who's-a Abraham Lincoln?"
He says, "Hah! Abraham-a Lincoln is-a sixteenth President of-a the United States. I'm-a go to night school, learn all about-a United States, and become-a U.S.-a citizen."
A guy in the back of the shop yells, "Yo, Giuseppi . . . you know who Fishlips Lorenzo is?"
He says, "No. Who's-a Fishlips Lorenzo is?"
The guy yells, "That's
the guy who's bangin' your wife while you're in night school."
Once upon a time, there were 3 Italian pigs. Joncarlo, the owner of a straw house, Antonio, the owner of a stick house, and Guido, the owner of a brick house.
One day this nasty old wolf came up to Joncarlo's house and said, "I'm gonna huff, and puff and blow your house down." And he did!
So Joncarlo went running over to Antonio's house and said "Let me in, please, the wolf just blew down my house!!" So Antonio let Joncarlo in.
Then the wolf showed up and said, "I'm gonna huff and puff and blow your house down!" And he did! Antonio and Joncarlo went running over to Guido's house and said "Let us in! The wolf just blew down our houses and we're scared!" So Guido let them in.
The wolf caught up with them and said "I'm gonna huff, and puff and blow your house down." While he was huffing and puffing, Joncarlo and Antonio were scared! But Guido picked up the phone and called a friend.
All of a sudden this big, black stretch limo drove up. Out came two massive pigs in pin striped suits and fedoras. These huge pigs came over to the wolf and grabbed him by the neck and beat the living shit out of him. Then, one of them pulled out a gun and fired into the wolf's mouth. They left the wolf for dead, got back into their limo, and drove off.
Joncarlo and Antonio were amazed! They asked Guido, "Who the hell were those guys?
And Guido responded,
"Oh, those are my cousins... the Guinea Pigs."
Q: How can you tell
if an Italian is in the Mafia?
Q: Why is Italy shaped
like a boot?
Q. Why does the new
Italian Navy use glass bottomed boats?
Q. What did the barber
say to the Italian kid?
Q. How did they advertise
surplus W. W. II Italian rifles for sale?
Q. Why did the Italian
staple his nuts together?
Q: What do you call
an Italian with an IQ of 180?
Q: Why did the Italian
cut holes in his pockets?
Q: What is a four-letter
word in Italian for goodbye?
Q: Have you heard
of the Flamingo family in Naples, Florida?
Q: Do you know why
Italians don't like Jehovah's Witnesses?
Q: Why don't Italians
Q. How can you identify
the Italian at the Cock fight?
Q. How can
you tell if the Mafia is involved in the Cock fight?
Q: Have you
heard about the Italian girl who flunked her driver's license test?
Q: What is
it that Italians hate about shit sandwiches?
the definition of Bigamist?
Q: Why do
Jews put their trash in clear bags?
The Italians have
followed the ages old tradition of naming their boats with a three-letter
prefix. For example:
It so happened that
Myron and Vinnie came of age at the same time. From his father Vinnie
received a brand new handgun, while at his bar mitzvah, Myron's father
strapped a beautiful gold watch on his wrist. The next day Vinnie was
full of admiration for the watch, while Myron was consumed with envy after
one glance at the pistol. So the two friends decided to trade gifts.
Tony had come over
from Italy a short time ago and his English was not very good. His
wife had a bad case of crabs in her pubic hair, so Tony went to the drug
store and asked the clerk, "My wife, she has a bugs in the bush".
Maria's Wedding Night (mama lends a hand)
Maria just got married,
and being a traditional Catholic Italian, she was still a virgin. So,
on her wedding night, staying at her mother's house, she was quite understandably
nervous. However, her mother reassured her.
right off the boat from Italy, was excited about being accepted at Harvard
University. On his first day on campus, he was walking around looking
for the library.
Antonio came home
from school one day and walked into the kitchen. His grandma asked him,
"Antonio, what did you learn in school today?"
from his honeymoon in Florida with his new bride, Virginia, Luigi stopped
in his New York neighborhood barbershop to say hello to his friends.
A band at an Italian
wedding decided to take requests. Nunzio walks up and asks, "Scuse
me, do youse guys know da song 'Strangers in da Night'?
Two Italians, Luigi
and Antonio, met on the street.
An Italian man immigrates
to America. He starts sweeping floors in a pizzaria, and after 15 years
works his way up to owning a small chain of pizzarias.
Franco, the Italian
Stallion at the local night club, leaned forward and said to the young
lady he was dancing with, "I'd like to compliment you on your panties.
They are pink with your initials embroidered, and trimmed in lace."
Three Italian mothers
were attending a football game. Each had a son playing on the same team.
At the start of the game, the first boy saw his opportunity, grabbed the
ball and running quickly, out-foxed the opposing team, making the first
touchdown. His mother, obviously proud of her son, sprang from the bleachers,
shouting in her broken Italian accent, "Datsa my boy! I raised him
onna da Pet milk. Ain't he-a Peach?"
Little Guido was
sitting on a park bench munching on one candy bar after another. After
the sixth one a man on the bench across from him said, "Son, you
know eating all that candy isn't good for you? It will give you acne,
rot your teeth, and make you fat."
An Italian named Vito buys a round of drinks for all in the bar because he announces his wife has just produced "a typical Italian baby boy weighing 25 pounds." Congratulations showered him from all around, and many exclamations of, "WOW!" were heard. A woman faints due to sympathy pains.
Two weeks later, he returns to the bar. The bartender says, "Say, you're the father of the typical Italian baby that weighed 25 pounds at birth. How much does he weigh now?"
The proud father, Uncle Vito, answered, "Seventeen pounds." The bartender is puzzled and concerned and asks, "Why? What happened? He already weighed 25 pounds at birth."
father, Uncle Vito, takes a slow swig from his scotch on the rocks, wipes
his lips on his shirt sleeve, leans in to the bartender and proudly says,
"We had his hair cut!"
Venanzio and Lorenzo were sitting on a bench in a New York park. "Hey," said Venanzio, "do you likea biga fat woman with a longa straggley hair?"
"No, I'ma no likea dat" replied Lorenzo.
"Den, you likea da woman with a garlic comin' from her mouth alla da time?" inquired Venanzio.
"Nope, I'ma no like dat kinda either!" said Lorenzo.
"You musta likea da woman with a big, thicka hips anna varicose veins, no?" asks Venanzio.
"Notta me!" answered Lorenzo.
whya you keepa screwin' my wife?" Venanzio asked.
Vito and Juliana grew up in an Italian neighborhood in New York City. They were playmates as children and sweet-hearts in high school. After graduation Vito and Juliana planned to be married. Since Vito was working in the family business, they planned to live in Vito's family's apartment, sleeping in Vito's bedroom.
After the wedding and all the celebration every one went to bed. Vito and Juliana's bedroom was next to Mama and Papa's bedroom. Pretty soon Vito and Juliana's head board was beating against the wall.
Papa said, "Mama, you hear that?" Mama said, "Yes." Papa said, "You want to?" Mama said, "Yes." So they did it too. Papa rolled over and was just about asleep when the head board started banging the wall again.
Mama said, "You hear that?" Papa said, "Yes." Mama said, "You want to?" Papa said, "Yes." They did it again. This was a hell of a work out for Papa. He was laying there exhausted and could barely catch his breath when the head board started banging the wall again.
beating on the wall and hollered, "Hey Vito, whatcha tryin'a do,
killa your Mama?"
Vito and Juliana were having their usual battle of the sexes.
"Italian men are all stupid," screamed Juliana.
"Oh, yeah?" yelled her husband. "I'll have you know it was an Italian man who invented the toilet seat!"
I'll have you know," said his wife, "it was an Italian woman
who thought of putting a hole in it!"
An Italian boy has a life long dream to go to school in the United States and it finally comes true when he is accepted to Columbia University in New York. After a couple of years at school, his father comes to visit him in America.
The boy is very excited to see his father and asks what he would like to do in America. His father says, "This is'a America. I'd a like'a to go'a to a baseball game."
So they head on down to Yankee stadium and as it turns out it's old-timers day. Roger Maris comes to bat and hits a long ball which is heading for the left field seats. The father stands up and yells, "RUN'A ROGER, RUN."
Mickey Mantle comes up next and hits a fly ball to deep right field. Again, the father stands up, and yells "RUN'A MICKEY, RUN."
Next Joe DiMaggio steps out to the plate. There pitcher throws ball one, ball two, ball three and walks him on four pitches. As Joe DiMaggio starts to trot to first base the father stands up and shouts, "RUN'A JOE, RUN."
"No," his son interrupts, "He has four balls, he walks."
balls?" His father stands up again, "walk'a proud, Joe, walk'a
The Italian had never played golf before and so he asked for some tips before starting the game. The American decided to teach the Italian the proper way to putt a golf ball.
The American said, "You take this stick and hit the balls so that they roll into the hole". The American putted away and sank the ball from 20 feet in a single stroke.
replied, "In America, you leave your sticka outta and a putta your
balls in da hole, but in Italia, we put our sticka inna da hole and leave
our balls out"!
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 like partridges and pear trees. So I was wrong. So sue me. 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 25 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'etre. 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.
7:00 P.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."
7:30 P.M. - Others arrive. Uncle Ziti walks in with my Aunt Mafalde, assorted kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, salami, prosciutto, provolone, and anchovies. 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 says, "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.
8:00 P.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 tramp?" "She's not a tramp," I reply. "And 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."
8:30 P.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, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops." I vaguely remember that line from Torch Song Trilogy... "Whoops? No. Whoops is when you fall down an elevator shaft." 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.
- Coffee, dessert. Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of lemon
peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face
with a cannoli. 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 a cannoli and slaps my mother with it. "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.
10. He seems
to do really well for a guy who runs a candy store that's open one or
two hours a day.