i hereby, take back all my Albo pretentions, and promise to give Albo men a 10* for gentlemanship. I will eat my words with a slice of bread and a glass of wine (or two).
they are soft, kind men with gentle doe eyes, who only live to be at your beck and call for every wish, except when it comes to picking the check. then, the albanian man fully descents and grabs the check with both hands and does not let go. no matter how much money they have in their pockets, or if they have to wash the restaurant dishes for a week afterwards, they have to pay. otherwise, you are officially a goat, and an unmarriable one for that matter.
i went to the Alb Catholic Church picnic today, on an official cappacity. that means standing around a red cover table, trying to hand out fliers and give away free candy and pencils under an undecided sun. i still got sunburn though. my chest looks like a red lobster who is only boiled halfway, because the t-shirt’s neckline was modest. and i put vitamin cream on so i smell like a pharmacy.
since i do not drive, i took advantage of somebody who wanted to see about 4000 Albo northeners crammed together ( i guess the zoo was closed), and listen to the songs of his forefathers (very fore since he is a southerner and the artists are northeners). i had never noticed before how sweet this person was. careful, gentle, opened my door (of course i was not prepared so my cell fell in the mud), and carried our marketing materials to the table. a little hidden gem. too bad i can’t date him.
the other albanians were all ready for the picnic. we stood by and watched a whole parade of figures: succulent girls with their straight breasts, curly hair and tube tops; young brides with high heels, pantyhose, red lipsticks and screaming kids; their ill-fitting suited spouses; wrinkled mother-in-laws three steps behind their leering, dyed hair husbands; unwashed Calvin Klein underwear models; the priest; various community leaders; Dioguardi sans wife; Albanian TV; other nationalities who had no clue about Alb culture; a short italian flowerseller from Reggio Calabria; two Alb men with Oriental wifes (gasp!!); and one Alb man with an African-American wife and their two kids (somebody fan me please!!).
deals were made, hands were shaken, old friends were dissed and new friends were introduced, weddings were arranged and dresses were closely scrutinized. cultural societies performed the Sword Dance (our version of the MATRIX), Aurela Gace and Gezim Nika performed their crowd pleasing songs, Elton Deda performed Dashnor Diko songs (beats me why), the priest performed his song and dance (Proud to Be Albanian Speech); and a boxer with cool glasses went by with his posse. a typical Albo day.
i could barely stand because of the abuse of the two previous nights (those SOBs partied like it was my birthday), but i still shook hands, patted shoulders and tried to hook up with all the grannies and grandaddys of the Albanian Community. my boss owes me one.
then, my sweet friend drove me home, in his nissan chariot with a very strong car freshener smell. i can still get a headache smelling my hair. God bless us, everyone.