Not So Perfectly Done

, , , , , | Learning | September 9, 2019

In middle school, I had a terrible art teacher. She would do nothing other than screaming and insulting our drawings.

For the summer break, she gave us homework: a single drawing, but it had to be perfect. I wasn’t that good at the time, so I worked very hard on it and it took me the entire three months of break.

We came back to school and the moment came to show her our work. All she told me was that the drawing wasn’t good and that I had to do it all over again for the week after. 

Of course, I had no intention of doing the work of three months in one week — it would turn out even worse, anyway — so all I did was add some shading to it, but it was basically the same.

I showed it to her the week after and she gave me a B… after bragging about how she could tell if we put effort into our work or not.

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Bombarded With Booze

, , , , | Related | May 14, 2019

(My family and I go on holiday to ski, and we do the usual skiing holiday stuff: go down slopes, stay in chalets to eat and rest, gather for dinner in an osteria, and so on. I am only a few years old, so most of my time there is spent with a ski teacher, but one day my mom leaves me in the care of my 14-year-old sister and her tagalong friend. After spending most of the afternoon going down gentle slopes and playing in the snow, my sister and her friend decide to stop at a bar for a bit. We are in Italy.)

Sister: “Hey, [My Name], you want hot chocolate, right?”

Me: *nods*

Sister: “[Friend], go pick up two bombardini and a shot of vodka.”

Me: “What’s a bombardino?”

Sister: “Hot chocolate with whipped cream!”

Me: “Oh.”

(I trust her on that and wait at the table. Then, my sister’s friend comes back with two tall glasses full of a brown liquid topped by whipped cream, and a tiny glass of clear liquid.)

Sister: “Here. Be careful, it’s hot!”

(I take a sip. I immediately feel a very, very bitter taste in my mouth, as my stomach churns and my mouth feels cottoned. I get up in a panic and run outside the bar’s palisade before stopping, kneeling, and vomiting profusely. My sister’s friend runs up to me.)

Friend: *yelling* “Why did you actually let him drink it?!”

Sister: *shocked* “I didn’t think alcohol could be that bad for him.”

(For the uninitiated, a bombardino is a cocktail composed of eggnog, brandy, coffee, and whipped cream. When I got back to the hotel, I looked absolutely miserable, my mom forbade my sister from watching over me for a long time, and I got a distaste for alcoholic drinks.)

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Childish Babino

, , , | Friendly | May 7, 2019

(My wife and I, while vacationing in Italy, are at the Trevi Fountain among the crowd of tourists. At every tourist site, there are panhandlers and after giving to several beggars I have gotten tired of handing out money. An elderly woman approaches me with her hand out, speaking in Italian, of which I only know a few words. When she sees I am not getting money out she starts her “sales pitch” while giving me a pitiful look.)

Woman: “Bambino ca-a-a-sa.” *drawing out “casa” to sound extra pitiful*

(Shocked that such an elderly woman would have a baby at home, my eyes grow wide.)

Me: *half laughing* “BABINO?”

Woman: *still looking pitiful and holding out her hand with her fingers spread to indicate “five”* “Cinque bambini!”

(I’m even more shocked that such an elderly woman would have FIVE babies at home.)

Me: *laughing* “FIVE BABINI?!”

(She looks mad and leaves. About fifteen minutes later, I am going into a nearby gelato shop and the woman is exiting while eating a double-dip gelato cone. I look at her and hold out my hand with my fingers spread.)

Me: “FIVE BABINI?!”

(She gave me a look like she was going to slap me but turned and walked away.)

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Unfiltered Story #147726

, , | Unfiltered | April 23, 2019

Hostess: (In Italian) Hello sir, welcome to [Name of Restaurant]!
Customer: (In English) God d*****, speak English for god’s sake! Stop this barbaric dead language!
Hostess: (switching to English) I’m sorry sir, but this is Rome, and most people here speak Italian.
Customer: Why? They should speak the good, proper language of English, not this freak stuff.
Hostess: But sir, we are in Italy. Most everyone here speaks the language of our country.
Customer: Well they shouldn’t. They’re just dumb to not learn our language as well as their own.
Hostess: Well sir, how many languages do you know?
Customer: Just English. Good old English, like we all should.
Hostess: Well I’m sorry sir, but we cannot serve bigoted a**holes. Goodbye

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Someone Needs Sensitivity Training

, , , , , | Friendly | April 16, 2019

This was told to me by a friend. This friend of mine lost his grandmother earlier this week, and five months ago lost his mother.

Two days after his grandmother died, his regional manager, who was visiting his branch, said this to his face: “Aren’t you happy? Now you have fewer family members who can die.” Later, she justified herself saying she was just kidding. Strangely enough, my friend didn’t find it funny and answered in quite colorful language.

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