Here's one...you are on a wine tasting tour in Italy. Can you write an amusing paragraph or 2 or more that...

Question

includes these movie quotes? (And a couple of my own.)
1. Here I am in Italy....and an over-weight guy from New Jersey is offering me a glass of wine....oh,hell.
2. I wonder if geniuses have problems with their sex lives.
3. Mmm. Quaffable. But, uh, far from transcendent.
4. Do traffic lights mean anythng around here?
5. There is nothing worse than a drunk who resembles Woody Allen.
6. I think I fractured my last remaining nose.

Answer 1

So there I was standing on the bridge at Dolceaqua up in the North West of Italy watching the trout move about down below while I waited for Vittorio. He is the brother of my son-in-law who is indeed a wine expert, but Vittorio is, and should remain solely involved in, olive oil. Top quality I might add, as I regularly help to gather the olives in January and process them into the most wonderful oil. Wine on the other hand is a totally different subject.

As I had missed the years olive harvest, I arrived in June for a weeks stay. Momma Lena made me most welcome as usual and I was looking forward to wild rabbit, wild boar, wild mushrooms and a non-wild personal stay. It was purely by chance that we saw the advertisement, in English of all things, in a local shop window and as Vittorio's brother has the knack of making a fortune by buying certains wines early, he, Vittorio decided that it might be a bonus to his oil earnings. And so I awaited his arrival.

About an hour later than he had arranged, which is nothing new over there, he sauntered up and without the slightest apology for his timekeeping, he began to throw small balls of bread to the trout. I honestly believe that had I not brought him back to the present, he would have remained there doing the same for the next three or four hours.

The wine tasting was taking place in a restaurant a little further up the road towards the mountains. Le Trout was the name by coincidence and apparrently it is famous for a lake at the back where there are double figure trout, some as big as fifteen pounds weight.

We were welcomed by the owner who is an old family friend and he handed Vittorio a list of the wines being tasted. He had placed a large 'X' against six or seven names. He winked at Vittorio and we had the message. There were about two hundred other people all quaffing wines of different colours.

Suddenly this small man, I suppose he was no taller than five foot three but incidentally the same in girth, came up to us and began to talk in broken Italian. As soon as I said 'English?', he wiped his sweaty brow and said 'Geeze, at last, someone I can talk to'. As he poured me a glass of red wine, I thought to myself 'Here I am in Italy.......and an over-weight guy from New Jersey is offering me a glass of wine.......oh, hell, there is no point in me telling him that I haven't had an alcoholic drink for over twenty-five years. I'll just pretend'.

Vittorio came over and joined me as the host mingled. 'Apparently he has a fantastic brain and his wines are sought out all over the world'. As I looked at our New Jersey friend a sudden thought came to mind. 'I wonder if geniuses have problems with their sex lives. I doubt if he has seen his toes for many years, let alone anything else'.

'Pretend to drink some' Vittorio warned as our host returned to us. I did without any passing my lips. I then began to pretend to swill it about in my mouth and as I held the glass up to the light, he asked 'Very good. Do you not agree?' he asked.

'Mmm. Quaffable. But, uh, far from transcendent' I offered what I thought was a comment due on such occasions. 'Exactly right' he surprised me with his answer 'I knew I should have added twice as much of the good wine to blend it propertly'. He immediately went away and began writing in a ledger type book.

I looked over at Vittorio. 'My God' I thought 'but he takes exactly after his father'. For there he was, going from bottle to bottle, and literally knocking it back, glass after glass. I went up to him and quietly said to him 'You are supposed to spit it out, that's what the spitoon buckets are for, you wally'. 'Waste not, want not' was all that he could muster.

I decided to get some fresh air and thought that the trout would be more interesting. I took some bread from one of the tables and was about to return to the bridge. However, I made the near-fatal mistake of looking to my right and as there was no traffic coming, I began to cross. My God Almighty, one of those little Fiat wagons that sound like an extra large wasp, missed me by inches, or I suppose, in Italy, millimeters. 'Do traffic lights mean anything around here?' I shouted after him. All I heard in return from up the road was something that sounded like 'Fongula'. I suppose he was saying 'sorry'.

As I fed the trout, much to my amusement and enjoyment I might add, time passed quickly. I was brought abruptly back to the present by a shout from across the road. It was Vittorio and he was sozzled. His shirt was all undone, his hair was all over the place and he was staggering about like no-bodys business. I later told him that he reminded me of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

You know something, there is nothing worse than a drunk who resembles Woody Allen, especially with his glasses off. That was the only true description I could give of Vittorio but as I watched I smiled. As if I had never had a drink back in the sixties. Geeze, I remembered, I could have cleared out the bar with the way I used to behave.

Suddenly, Vittorio was gone. I jumped up and ran across the road, making sure to look each way this time. He was sitting up on the pavement with his hand to his face which was now covered with blood.

'I think I fractured my last remaining nose' was all he could say. To hell with it, I decided as I gave him a fireman's lift and carried him back to my car. There was no way he was driving his own.

Still, I reckon that I was the only sober driver in North West Italy that night, or for that matter, most nights....................................

Answer 2

I planned a trip to Italy, figuring it would be a nice vacation out of cold and miserable Minnesota. One thing I really wanted to do was wine tasting....YUM! So, here I am in Italy....and an over-weight guy from New Jersey is offering me a glass of wine....oh, hell. I'll need a hell of a lot of wine to make that guy look good. I wish I could find one good looking guy and have a wonderful sex life with a man who's only goal in life is to please me. I wonder if geniuses have problems with their sex lives? Who wants to date a genius....So the wine was great. There was one that was....Mmm. Quaffable. But, uh, far from transcendent. It was all good.

So I am heading back out to my hotel. Who thought there would be traffic lights in Italy? As I am standing there, waiting for the little Walk sign to flash, some car plows through a red light and almost crashes into another. I kind of wonder, do traffic lights mean anything around here? I thought driving in the cities was bad....I finally cross the street, a little more cautious than I was before....let's just say I pretty much ran...So I walk past a bar. I had to take a second look. There is nothing worse than a drunk who resembles Woody Allen. Yikes! Not paying attention, I walk right into a light pole. I think I fractured my last remaining nose. Wait, I only have one. Good thing it's ok and I'll live.

Answer 3

See Naples and die, goes the old saying. Well, here I am in Italy and an over-weight guy from New Jersey is offering me a glass of wine...oh hell. But then he might have been too thin and as my aunt always says, there is nothing worse than a drunk who resembles Woody Allen. And this guy means business, as here comes the waiter with the glass. Mmm. Quaffable. But, uh, far from transcendent. Or maybe its my fragile condition after the trip. I think I fractured my last remaining nose. To make things worse, there are all these traffic fumes around us and a constant bleeping of horns. Whee! Do traffic lights mean nothing around here? I can't think what became of that glass of wine. I don't really remember drinking it and what do you know, that New Jersey guy is plying me with more. I wonder if geniuses have problems with their sex lives. Genius I am not, but I certainly do. Ah well! See Naples and die and I might well end up doing that. Well, we all end up dying, but....as I said, I'm no genius and what the heck anyway! I'm on holiday!

Answer 4

Sunshine my love. My heart pounds and I am left speechless that you would ask me to do your homework. I know you may be young at heart, but your life will be total chaos if you expect your dreams to come true without doing your own homework. I know you may not think I am worth it, but I have your best interest at heart.