May I just tell you something that drives me up a wall?  Of course I may, hello, my blog!  One phrase.  Two words.  "I'm Italian."

Let me elaborate. 

I don't have a darn thing against descendants of the big boot.  I love EVOO.  And the movie Under The Tuscan Sun.  And tiramisu. 

But I don't think that just because your triple great grandmother left the big boot for the great American dream on a boat generations before you were born has a darn tootin' thing to do with your likes and dislikes and general personality today.  Unless you still chat with her about the old country.  And that's just a whole other ball of wax, considering she passed decades ago.



I'm hot tempered because I'm Italian.

You're hot tempered because you need anger management classes and etiquette lessons.

I love pasta because I'm Italian.

You love pasta because everyone loves pasta.  And for the record, the Italians didn't actually invent pasta.  Tip of the hat the Chinese on that one.

I love food because I'm Italian.

Um, find me a group of people who don't like food.  I like air too but am pretty sure that's not because of my great great great granny.

I'm loud because I'm Italian.

I know lots of Italians who in no way, shape or form resemble RHNJ or Jersey Shore cast members.

I go tanning because I'm Italian.

Oh I'm pretty sure your ancestors didn't give a hoot about being tan.  You're tan because you have some sort of Oompa Loompa fetish.  Get out of the cancer bed and find a dermatologist.  Or therapist.



Guess what?  I'm American and don't give a flip.  I bet very few "I'm Italian" folks actually have that many roots in the boot anyway.  And why is that nationality so much more prideful on their history than most others?  I've yet to hear anyone say "I like that because my relatives whom I've never actually met used to live in Sweden" or "Australia" or "India."

I think it's great when people keep traditions alive today.  I love that people celebrate togetherness and family memories over mounds of food.  My non-Italian family does that too, you know!  And I think its fun when you share personality traits with your close relatives.  But that blanket excuse...to me it is nearly as infuriating as when someone tells you they do consulting for a living. 

Consulting?  Consulting on what?  On how to run a business?  Build a bridge?  Watch TV and email from bed at the same time?  I "consult" people in the middle of the grocery store, fabric store, and coffee shop.  People frequently seek my "consulting" skills as I am walking my dog and they are lost in my city's maze of one way with two names streets.  Get over yourself and just tell me what you do for a living! 



I am clearly in a grumpy mood today.  My sinuses that have been out of whack on my right side are now working their way across my big head to the left side too.  This rain and air pressure are making matters worse.  I plan to loaf about in bed the rest of the day and come back tomorrow with more cheerful topics.  Like baby ruffle butts.  And puppy kisses.