Too Hot To Handle

I am sure there are only a few funnier things in this world then 2 Americans watching dubbed over Italian shows. Nearly every show that plays on the 10 channels that we have is an American show that has horribly dubbed Italian voices. Action scenes feel as exciting as a Sunday night slow jam radio host smooth talking the women. My roommate hates silence during any part of his day, so his remedy is to instantly put the TV on and sit at the table and watch. He might secretly know Italian but there are hints that he does not. First, the only thing he will say in Italian is hello and bye. Lucky for him it is the same word. The second hint is quite a bit funnier cause I too take part in this activity. If we both are watching a show, for example, doctor who. Then during the whole show we are blurting out guesses for what we think is going on. "that is his clone, and they want to eat pie with their feet", "no Kurt don't be silly, its corn on the cob." At the moment we are gazing upon a quite interesting reality trivia show. This is even more entertaining because we guess the question being asked then interpret the answers to make us look smarter. "I think it says, this thing floats on water", "hmmm...choose between brick, sand, Salem witches, and boats... Ima say boats! They chose brick?" We are pretty clever.

The only tv that made sense was when Michael took Kurt and I to the pub to watch Sardinia play another Italian team in soccer. This was important because 1. Sardinia doesn't even consider itself apart of Italy. They are the Puerto Rico of the US. 2. Their best player got traded less then a week ago to the team they just played. Traitor. The bar was filled with men chanting and yelling and spilling beer. Everyone became a victim of the excitement. At one point when calgiari, Sardinia's team name, scored, an old man came over to me held my cheeks in his hands, started shaking me like I was a piggy bank and he needed that last penny. Meanwhile saying something and spitting little spittles of beer on my brow. I have officially been welcomed at an unofficial Sardinian.


Moral of the story, if you can't handle the heat, get outta the kitchen and go to KFC