Alternately titled: Most Obvious Thing to Blog About in Italy
Second Alternate Title: If it’s good enough for Francesco Totti’s wife (dignified woman standing on right), it’s good enough for me.
Why on God’s great Earth has it never occurred to me to write a post that would shamelessly glorify the cult of half-naked women on prime-time “respectable” Italian television?
Holy crap, people! I mean?
Yes, it is.
And that, @DolceCarla, is a damn good idea for me to post on.
Ok. This is why. Because, as I learned in my very prestigious Master of Social Work program at the University of Washington, one of the top 10 schools of social work in the entire U. S. of A., this is apparently akin to why I was never aware of my white privilege either: a fish doesn’t know it’s in water.
Also known as: when you see half-nekkid dancing girls on TV every night, it becomes sort of, well…normal. (In a very non-normal sort of way.)
So now, just for frivolity (and to give me a valid excuse for using the word “frivolity” — yay), I give you:
Italy’s National Treasures, as observed by me.
No longer a weather reporter. Oh, stop! That’s so old fashioned. No, people. We have “meteorine.” Little meteors? Well, meteo means “weather” so like… little weather cutie pies? I don’t know. Just watch. (Look away! Look away! Remove young children from the room!)
All I know is that short fringed jean skirts add a ton of credibility to a board that is supposed to give me a weather report but looks more like some kind of 1st grade class project. I could give you this weather report in my pajamas after not having showered for 3 days because there are too many little kids running rampant underfoot. This is how it would read:
“It’s going to be cloudy, and sunny. And in some places on the top cloudy AND sunny at the very same time. Wait? What’s that you say? Thunder bolts somewhere in the middle?”
Then there are the truly half-naked dancing girls who are there for no other reason than to simply be half-naked dancing girls in prime time television on a game show with the Italian equivalent name of Password.
Freeze frame at the end of Berlusconi’s son’s girlfriend. Good stuff. Classay, yes indeedy!
But truly, my heart will always, always be with ex-George Clooney girlfriend Elisabetta Canalis, and her blonde counterpart Maddalena Corvaglia, who, when I arrived in Italy in late 2001, were the “veline,” the head cheerleaders of the half-naked dancing girl movement. They were my introduction to half-naked-dancingness and I was in awe of their … moves.
It’s quite unfortunate that I can’t share any videos of that period with you because either I’m not capable enough of searching soft porn on You Tube or no one has any clips left over from 2001. There was a really good dance they used to do with a fake shower and tinsel substituting as water. (NO I’m not kidding, do you think I would joke about something like this?)
And, can someone explain to me the creepy and inexplicable incongruity of a jolly red monster snuggling up to them every evening? God only knows.
Oh please, you still don’t believe me? As a gift to families all over the country trying to digest their dinners in peace in front of the TV, the marketing geniuses decided that a competition was in order to choose the new couples of dancing girls. I don’t know if they still do this or not, and frankly I don’t have enough masochistic tendency to spend any more time researching this line of thought.
However I do believe that if I ever go for a degree in psychology here in Italy, I could write my thesis about the red dancing monster frolicking with the half-naked girls.
Truly–it’s a gold mine, folks, I’m telling you.