
An 80 year old Italian gentleman went to the doctor for a check-up. The doctor was amazed at what good shape the guy is in and asked, “how do you stay in such great physical condition?”
“I’m Italian and I am a golfer,” said the old guy, “and that’s why I’m in such good shape… I’m up well before daylight and out golfing up, down and around the fairways. I then have a glass of vino, and all is well.”
“Well,” says the doctor, “I’m sure that helps, but there’s got to be more to it than that. How old was your father when he died?”
“Who said my father is dead?”
The doctor is amazed. “You mean you’re 80 years old and your father is still alive. How old is he?”
“He’s 100 years old,” says the elderly Italian golfer. “In fact, he golfs with me regularly, and then we go to the topless beach to pick up some girls and then have a little vino and that’s why he’s still alive. So you see, he’s Italian and a golfer, too.”
“Well,” the doctor says, “that’s great, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that. How about your father’s father? How old was he when he died?”
“Who said my nonno is dead?
Stunned, the doctor asks, “are you telling me you’re 80 years old and your grandfather’s still living! Incredible! how old is he?”
“He’s 119 years old,” said the old Italian golfer.
The doctor was somewhat frustrated at this point and sarcastically said, “So I guess he went golfing with you this morning too?”
“No, nonno couldn’t go this morning because he’s getting married today”
At this point the doctor is close to losing it.
Getting married! Why would a 119-year-old guy want to get married?
“Who said he wanted to?”
You Must Be Italian If…
Italian Families: If at least some of these don’t sound familiar – you’re not really Italian……….
You have at least one relative who wore a black dress every day for an entire year after a funeral.
You spent your entire childhood thinking what you ate for lunch was pronounced “sangwich.”
Your family dog understood Italian.
Every Sunday afternoon of your childhood was spent visiting your grandparents and extended family.
You’ve experienced the phenomena of 150 people fitting into 50 square feet of yard during a family cookout.
You were surprised to discover the FDA recommends you eat three meals a day, not seven.
You ate pasta for dinner at least three times a week, and every Sunday.
You grew up thinking no fruit or vegetable had a fixed price and that the price of everything was negotiable through haggling.
You watched Lawrence Welk and Ed Sullivan every Sunday night.
You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.
You thought everyone’s last name ended in a vowel.
You were surprised to find out that wine was actually sold in stores.
You never ate meat on Christmas Eve or any Friday for that matter.
You ate your salad after the main course.
You thought Catholic was the only religion in the world.
Your were beaten at least once with a wooden spoon.
You thought every meal had to be eaten with a hunk of bread in your left hand.
You learned to play bocce before you went to school.
You can understand Italian but you can’t speak it.
You have at least one relative who came over on the boat.
You grew up calling the bathroom the baccausa. And you only had one.
You were surprised to learn most kitchen utensils had another name which didn’t end in a vowel.
All of your uncles fought in a World War.
You have at least six male relatives named Tony, Frankie, Joey or Louie.
You have relatives who aren’t really your relatives.
You have relatives you don’t speak to.
You drank wine before you were a teenager.
You relate on some level, admit it, to the Godfather and the Sopranos.
You grew up in a house with a yard that didn’t have one patch of dirt that didn’t have a flower or a vegetable growing out of it.
Your grandparent’s furniture was as comfortable as sitting on plastic.
Wait!!!! You were sitting on plastic.
You thought that talking loud was normal.
You thought cookie cakes and the Tarantella were common at all weddings.
You thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and money stuffed in their pockets by their relatives.
Your mother is overly protective of the males in the family no matter what their age.
Every lunchmeat you ate ended in a vowel.
There was a crucifix in every room of the house, including the cellar.
There was a saint somewhere in the yard.
Boys didn’t do house work because it was women’s work.
You couldn’t date a boy without getting approval from your father.
You know what lemon ice is.
Your Christmas tree was silver.
You called pasta macaroni.
You have at least one irrational fear or phobia that can be attributed to your mother.
Those of you who get this…KNOW who to pass it on to!!!!
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