Tag Archives: Pasta Child



Nearing midnight, I was still awake. As I tossed and turned in my bed, I thought of different ways to approach her without being too obvious that I was overly attracted. I knew she could read my actions if I came on too strong.

It was not the first time I courted a girl. I was not as amateur as I looked at age 26 although my calm disposition often painted a picture of an insecure man, unsure of his worth when facing the opposite sex. In some way, the image worked in the past because some women found it a sign of being down to earth.

I decided to perform a well-disguised serenade, something totally unorthodox that she would not even suspect I was starting to influence her feelings toward me.

Months earlier, I bought a portable DVD player, the successor of the Walkman cassette player. One of the…

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Crazy Pasta Child’s First Blog

Oh dear!
Being Italian has always been a synonym of pasta eater.
Yes. It is.
Since that crazy of Marco Polo brought pasta from China, the destiny of Italy and Italians had been written.
In each country of the world if you tell you are Italian they will say to you pasta! With a biiiig smile!
Some years ago, it was worse because people also told you: ah! Italia! Pizza, spaghetti mandolino!
Well, there’s another problem: we speak a lot and we speak with hands, so we are considered pasta eaters and and also a bit insane.
In spite of all, I’m proudly:
Italian child (well…. Grown up child, that’s better)
Pasta eater
Speaking lover
Hands speaker
I can cook pizza but I can’t play mandolino, first of all because it’s an old instrument (I prefer electric guitar) and and also because his music is sad.
Proudly crazy pasta child because our country is a small little shining star in the world.
Call it ITALIA, call it boot if you prefer, but we still go on eating pasta and speak with hands!
And we are as famous as the pope!