Why do Italians hate Jehovah's Witnesses?
> Because Italians hate all witnesses.
>
> Do you know why most men from Italy are named Tony?
> On the boat over to America they put a sticker on them
> that said "TO NY"
>
> You know you're Italian when:
You can bench press 325 pounds, shave twice a day and still cry when your mother yells at you.
>
> You carry your lunch in a produce bag because you can't fit
> two cappicola sandwiches, 4 oranges, 2 bananas and pizzelles
> into a regular lunch bag.
>
> Your mechanic, plumber, electrician, accountant, travel agent and lawyer are all your cousins.
>
> You have at least 5 cousins living in the same town or
> on the same block. All five of those cousins are named
> after your grandfather or grandmother.
>
> You are on a first name basis with at least 8 banquet
> hall owners
>
> You only get one good shave from a disposable razor.
>
> If someone in your family grows beyond 5' 9", it is presumed his Mother had an affair.
>
> There were more than 28 people in your bridal party.
>
> You netted more than $50,000 on your first communion.
>
> And you REALLY, REALLY know you're Italian when:
>
> Your grandfather had a fig tree.
>
> You eat Sunday dinner at 2:00.
>
> Christmas Eve . . . only fish.
>
> Your mom's meatballs are the best.
>
> You've been hit with a wooden spoon or had a shoe thrown at you.
>
> Clear plastic covers on all the furniture.
>
> You know how to pronounce "manicotti" and "mozzarella."
>
> You fight over whether it's called "sauce" or "gravy."
>
> You've called someone a "mamaluke."
>
> And you understand "bada bing".

Not a bad list.Some of them made me laugh out loud.

Pretty funny

Good ones olivant. But you forgot one.....



"You know you're Italian when your Grandmother has a thicker mustache than you do."

European Italians = Hilarious
Guido Italians = Annoying
Elderly Guido Italians = Hilariously annoying

Take them or leave them.

You know your Italian,when your Nonna asks if your still hungry,you reply no and she replies don't be silly and proceeds to fill up your plate the same as before.

It is impossible for you to talk with your hands in your pockets.

That is 100% true.

Many I can relate to, if not for me personally for my parent's generation.


You have at least 5 cousins living in the same town or
on the same block. All five of those cousins are named after your grandfather or grandmother. (i.e. I have 3 cousins and myself, named Ann, all after the same grandmother)

You are on a first name basis with at least 8 banquet
hall owners (I didn't but my parents & in-laws did)

There were more than 28 people in your bridal party. (not 28, but my cousin had 13.)

You netted more than $50,000 on your first communion. (ok, not quite that much, but money was a "standard" gift for first communions and I did pretty well.

And you REALLY, REALLY know you're Italian when:

Your grandfather had a fig tree. (My great uncle did)

You eat Sunday dinner at 2:00. (All the time growing up, Sunday dinner was at 2:00. We even got to drink soda on Sunday)

Your mom's meatballs are the best. Absolutely

You've been hit with a wooden spoon or had a shoe thrown at you.

Clear plastic covers on all the furniture. (my mom always had the living room couch in the plastic. I hated it. We always hung out in the family room, but had to tread cautiously in the living room.

You know how to pronounce "manicotti" and "mozzarella."

You fight over whether it's called "sauce" or "gravy." (only here on the BB. Everyone I know calls it sugo)

You've called someone a "mamaluke." Ha ha....my dad would occasionally say that word and told us not to say it.

And you understand "bada bing". [/i]

TIS

My mom's sister married an Italian about 50 years ago. To look at my Aunt you would think she was Italian herself. His parents gave them their house as a wedding pressent. His parents, along with 4 or 5 other relatives all had houses on that block. My cousin would think it odd I wasn't related to most of the people on her block since she was. Little by little after they all died the houses were sold. I think my cousin lives in one of those houses. But I think it's just my cousin and Aunt that lives there now.

It's strange because this is a little street, with maybe 20 houses total on it. You go around the block and it's as if you entered a new universe.

Beth, it was a very common practice for Italian families, well probably common for all families regardless of their ethinic backgounds for that matter, to own, share, and rent homes on the same block. And it wasn't uncommon for close friends of those families to join them on the same block when they migrated to this country.

I can assure all that Italians aren't the only ones who have clear plastic covers on all the furniture (actually yellow plastic covers that were once clear).

My dad had a fig tree that he would bury each winter.

Yeah, sunday dinner was right after church and MY mom's meatballs were the best, and the sauce too!

I never heard of sauce calld gravy until the Sopranos.

I still have wooden spoon impressions on my back from where my mom whacked me.

And my dad called me a mamaluke more than a few times.

And how about "you wanna bacala?"

And it is NOT man-i-coat.

I still can't get use to how Ricotta is pronounced. It was always with a rolled "r" and the double t with a "tha" sound (ri-coth-tha). However if I am in a store I have to ask for the ricodda so they know what I'm talking about. My parents would say its the "Americani pronounciation".


TIS

My daughter's grandmother is Italian, and I used to get on her for pronouncing mozzarella "mahz-er-elle". I always told her there's an "a" at the end. I could never convince her though.

That's funny. My daughter's grandmother is Italian, too.

Manicotti = MON -I -GOTH

When I was dating my wife (Italian) I would eat my meager German, Polish, Irish dinner at 5:00 pm and then go to my girlfriends house (wife) and be "forced" to eat another dinner. ..... and I loved it!

Speaking of huge dinners... holidays at my grandmother's we'd have the posta, meatballs, sausage, eggplant, fresh Italian bread, etc. The works!!! Well, my mother would of course volunteer my sister and I to clean up the table only to make room for the breaded chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, corn etc. That's two complete meals in one sitting. This is not including the dozen or so desserts that everyone would bring.

It took my dad (her son) and uncle to finally convince her it was way too much, not only work, but food, and convinced her to have one main course. She was always worried that there wouldn't be enough, which would be the ultimate embarrassment for any Italian family. (Like anyone was gonna starve)

TIS

When I was a kid, a traditional Sunday went like this :

Woke up to the smell of meats in the gravy. Went to church. In the winter after playing football, or in the summer after playing baseball, we'd get back home around 11:30 - Noonish and sneak a meatball out of the pot, rip a piece of Italian bread off the loaf, sit down to watch Abbott and Costello and have a meatball sandwich.

1:00 PM either the Mets or the Giants would start and we'd watch the game.


2:00 PM Macaroni and Meats in the Gravy came out and we'd sit down for Sunday dinner.

5:00 - 5:30 PM Grandma would make the "Black Coffee" for grandpa and the men.

At 6:00 grandma would take out the Pokeno game or the deck of cards, and the penny card games would begin. The men would fall alseep on the couch watching either the second game of football in the winter or out in the yard after drinking some wine outside in the summer.

Then around 7:00 we'd either make cold cut sandwiches or sometimes order Spumoni Gardens Pizza.

TIS, my brother is still pissed off that I stopped making lasagna on Thanksgiving!!

That is ALOT of food. There was no worrying about the waistline then.

If your grandmother ever saw a skinny girl she'd probably want to adopt her just to feed her.

We would go to 11:00 mass, get home and I would spread the sunday paper out on the dining room table. I'd start reading it cover to cover including the supplements. I'd never finish before I heard "Set the table." Then we'd eat. Almost always Italian or pot roast with potatos and carrots and, yes, mashed potatos with gravy.

After that I'd finish reading the paper, take out the garbage, do my homework, go play 'till the streetlights came on. Then, watch Ed Sullivan. I'd try to stay up to watch Perry Mason, but most times my mother would hear its theme and yell from another room, "Joe, go to bed."

If there is a God, I have one wish: return me to just one Sunday back then.

I can certainly relate to the list and everyone's experiences , especially Signor Cardi's

As for sauce vs. gravy. I've heard this stupid argument my whole life, and I'll say this: I've heard them both, so I guess it depends upon where you grew up. In the New York City area, you probably heard "gravy" more often. I know I did, and I grew up on 187th Street, in the heart of the Belmont section of the Bronx.

We always called it gravy. To differentiate it from what you might put on roast beef, that was called "brown gravy".

On Sundays we always went to early mass, since you couldn't receive Communion if you ate after midnight. We'd be starving by the time Mass was over. Walking home from church, we would stop at the local bakery to buy danishes and pastries for breakfast, as well as fresh bread for the afternoon dinner of macaroni (and when did we start calling it pasta?).

Sometimes, I would sleep at my grandmother's on Saturday night and on Sunday morning I would help her make homemade ravioli. My job would be to pinch the edges together with a fork and then poke holes in the middle.

As I've said before...it's quite simple.

When you make a Marinara Sauce, it's called SAUCE.

Once you add Meatballs, Sausage, and / or Bracciole, it becomes a GRAVY.

Marinara Sauce

Meats in the Gravy

When I was growing up we couldn't eat after midnight Saturday until after Communion on Sunday. I'd go to the 8 o'clock Mass with my grandmother at Our Lady Of Mount Carmel on 187th Street, because the 8 o'clock was in Italian. Then, if my father and mother weren't up to it, I had to take my brother to the 11 o'clock in English! My reward was a fried meatball, before it went in the GRAVY, in between Masses.

I bet you did

My wife's Italian family always refers to it as macaroni. They never say pasta. They own a restaurant and the menu refers to pasta because of the familiarity of the term.

Growing up, I always had Sunday dinner with my family and grandparents around two o'clock unless it was football season and dinner was planned around the Steelers game. In the summer we would usually cook out or head to the lake.