For The Italian Stallions

Note: you probably won’t get any of this unless you’re from Montreal. Or New Jersey, possibly.

bootWe recognize that this post has the potential to be offensive so we’d like to preface it by stating that we’re both Italian ourselves. We cherish our heritage and value our culture. In fact, we love being Italian and wouldn’t have it any other way. However, we’re totally sick of the stereotypes that go along with it. Some losers are giving us a bad rep.

If you so much as slightly suspect that we’re talking about you, then we probably are. Seriously. Think people love Italians as much as you assume they do? Think again. Fuck, even we hate you and we’re one of you.

So we’re staging an intervention. We’re going to comment on different aspects of your life in hopes of getting you to act like a decent human being. Our collective reputations can be saved, people. You can do it!

Lose the accent. It’s obvious that when you’re raised in an environment where everyone sounds the same, you’re bound to pick up on it. But you weren’t born in Italy. You don’t even speak Italian. Most importantly, the accent doesn’t sound Italian at all: it’s more like an unfortunate mix of oddly emphasized syllables and bad grammar.

All speech patterns aside, you might think you “talk good” but we can assure you that you sound stupid. Stop making up words, stop calling good looking women “broads”, stop inserting “ma”, “me”, “bro” and “like” after every third word. Having the vocab of a small child isn’t attractive. It’s ironic how Italian culture is largely considered as being one of the pillars of modern society when nowadays, we sound like bumbling idiots.

Okay, so you’re second cousins with John Scotti’s wife and, “Me, bro, I can get you a deal on a Porsche” and your connections allow you to rent a reception hall at half the price. No one gives a fuck. It’s great that you know everyone but please get over it and stop mentioning it at every possible opportunity because you’re making us sound like a bunch of inbred peasants.

Oh, and your uncle Tony isn’t in the mob. And if he is, we highly doubt he wants you bragging about it to everyone from the girl you’re currently “sticking it in” to the bouncers at Macaroni Bar. So STFU.

Ladies, you look like upscale slobs. Uggs are over. Stop buying them, stop wearing the ones you already have and stop tucking your tacky Juicy sweatpants into them. True Religion jeans are hideous. Ed Hardy deep Vs are ghastly. Gigantic hair and bad manicures went out in the late ’80s. So don’t even try to pull any of that off. Who do you think you are, Sara Di Maulo?

Men, you look like every sensible woman’s worst nightmare. Your ponytails or crispy, over-gelled hair offend our eyes. The massive Dom Rebel graphics on your tshirts and caps are distracting. It’s time to throw your Von Dutch cap away. Don’t wear sunglasses in clubs (it’s not sunny, assholes). Understand that a canottiera is an undershirt and that’s exactly how you’re supposed to wear it – UNDER a shirt, not alone. Refrain from purchasing those sneakers that look like they’re painted onto your socks. 

Stop sooping up your damn cars. Why not put all the money you spend on your Civic into a savings account and start preparing for your future? What’s that you say? Because you’re gonna live with your parents until you’re married? Oh yeah. Sorry, we forgot. Seriously though, Civics aren’t fast no matter how much you lower them, how loud your exhaust is or what kind of mags you have.

And stop driving like asshats. Why all of you insist on running red lights, tailgating and refusing to display any sort of politeness (by respecting crosswalks, letting other cars pass, etc) is beyond us. We can’t even count how many accidents we’ve almost been in because of you. Put your cell phone down and lower the dance music. This brings us to our next point.

Bon Jovi and MC Mario are not musical geniuses. Stop huddling and singing in unison whenever “Wanted Dead or Alive” comes on at a bar. Cruising on Lacordaire while listening to Alice Deejay does not make you cool or bad ass; it makes you a douchebag. The rest of us can appreciate dance music for what it’s worth – cheesy but catchy tunes that are fun in small doses – but you need to listen to something different. And not U2. Please, anything but U2. Odds are you already have a creepy Bono shrine in your house anyway.

Women didn’t suffer centuries of prejudice to get shit on by disrespectful mama’s boys. It’s not okay to assume that the woman you marry will clean the house, cook a mean tomato sauce, shoot out three kids and still look “mint”.

And ladies, your dreams shouldn’t amount to how big a rock your boyfriend can buy you or how lavish your wedding will be. Stop reinforcing trophy wife stereotypes and get a life.

In closing, a few more people helped out with this post (Alex, Jay and Vince) so we wanted to say thanks.

R.I.P. Club Dome.

-Melissa & Maria D


Filed under BAD BANGS

17 responses to “For The Italian Stallions

  1. badbangs

    things we forgot: putting an italian flag sticker on your car (backwards). buying designer knock offs. smearing lipgloss eight shades lighter than your actual lips all over your mouth. being a regular at “the bar”. going to bronzage four times a week. suddenly becoming a huge soccer fan when the world/euro cups roll around. having a voice so nasal and obnoxious that it sounds like you’re whining at all times (ladies). etc, etc.

  2. GiGi D`Agostino

    also, always holding your car keys in your hand even though you can easily put them in your pocket, malizia, wearing t-shirts that say “BARI” and “CALABRIA”, calling yourself a crazy drinker- but only drinks vodka/rebull or vodka/cranberry, walking into Moombas for any reason, being a fan of ACE rock band, ordering a Brio ….i can go on.

  3. But Nonno has an Italian flag sticker on the back of his Yukon.. 😦

  4. minchione 08

    Oh, me I hold my car keys cuz da pockets r full of ca$h. I wear things dat say “Sicilia” cuz I’m a fuckin Sich (represent), and I’m da craziest of da crazy drinkers. Vodka on da rocks cuz I’m a real man, and Moombas is fuckin crazy like hell for all bros on Saturday nights. And by da way, Brio beats Pepsi any day of da week. You think I’m a dirty pepper or what. And oh ya, nobody gives a flying fuck about Nonno’s Yukon.

    • badbangs

      lol! i see you went on a bit on a commenting spree here, minchione 08. what does the 08 mean anyway? is it the number on your ball hockey jersey, but?

  5. minchione 08

    Beh no, it’s da number of times I schiaffed it in ur mother… but you never know, it might change in da near future.

  6. statististic canada

    to the creators of the italian blog we would like to interview you both vanessa and melissa for overwieght women who got fucked and dumped by an italian so they have to right an opinion about them i dont want you writing anthything else about italians so u can come over ill fuck u slap ur ass feed u a snickers and maybe ull fell better. your blogg is as full of shit as the tip of your fathers dick when he pulls out of your sisters ass to quickly!!! enjoy my opinion!!!

  7. Melissa

    Very clever. And extremely accurate. Where did you get your pics for the article from?

  8. sara


    but who do you think you are????

  9. sara

    ya most of it does… but then again he is the ultimate “italian stallion”

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