I love Italians. I grew up in a town with a huge Italian population; perhaps one out of every two or three of my friends boasted some percentage of Italian blood in their veins. And I can’t think of another group of people more proud of their heritage than the Italians. I think the only thing Italians love more than their Italian heritage is informing everybody about their Italian heritage.
Ever notice how Italians go out of their way to tell you they’re Italian? You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones who preface every answer to any question with something to the effect of: “Yeah, hey, well, you know, I’m Italian.” As if we should already know A) that they’re Italian, and B) what the answer is.
Q: “What’s your favorite color?”
A: “Yeah, hey, well, you know, I’m Italian.”
or
Q: “Got any plans for the weekend?”
A: “Do I have plans for the weekend? Hey, I’m Italian.”
or
Q: “What’s your favorite ice cream?”
A: “Get outta here! I’m Italian!”
Once you start paying attention, you’ll notice that this all becomes exponentially more true the less Italian a person is.
Q: “Do you guys eat out a lot?”
A: “You kidding? My wife’s great-great-grandmother was half-Italian.”
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