I am Married to a Moron....
If my husband were a Hetalia Character.... Most night's I'd say he's Roderich (Austria) but tonight he was Channeling Alfred (America/USA)...
We go to Olive Garden, Me, my Hubby and my mom and dad, We're waiting to be seated, looking through the menu to get an idea of what we want to order while we're waiting.
And here is a snippet of Conversation between Hubby and I as we sit waiting to be seated:
Me: So What are you going to have?
Hubby: The Chicken Par-mee-gee-eye-anna.
Me: .... Wait... What?
Hubby: The Chicken Par-mee-gee-eye-anna.
Me: ????? (Thinking this does NOT sound right.) Show me on the menu.
(Hubby points to menu selection.)
Chicken Parmigiana
Me: That's Chicken Parmigiana! (Pronouncing it correctly.)
Hubby: Oh yeah, that sounds right.
Me: JOHN ARMSTRONG! You have a degree in music, you are a composer, you listen to OPERA if anyone in our household should be able to pronounce Italian correctly, other than me who used to SING Opera, it should be YOU!
Hubby: Allegro, Pianissimo, Grande, retardando,
Me: PRECISELY!!
Hubby: This isn't music it's food!
Me: The LANGUAGE doesn't freaking suddenly change rules of pronunciation... moron!
And therein begins the evening with me *facepalming* over Chicken PAR-MEE-GEE-EYE-ANNA
Now of Course, John's sense of humor kicks in, and let me tell you, my hubby has an odd sense of humor and can run a joke into the ground. After learning the correct way to pronounce Chicken Parmigiana. The Waiter arrives, John get's this shit eating grin on his face, looks me dead in the eye as he orders, in his best hick accent "I'll have the Chicken PAR-ME-GEE-EYE-ANNA
He did it on purpose.
The shit-head.
I punched him.
Hard.
We go to Olive Garden, Me, my Hubby and my mom and dad, We're waiting to be seated, looking through the menu to get an idea of what we want to order while we're waiting.
And here is a snippet of Conversation between Hubby and I as we sit waiting to be seated:
Me: So What are you going to have?
Hubby: The Chicken Par-mee-gee-eye-anna.
Me: .... Wait... What?
Hubby: The Chicken Par-mee-gee-eye-anna.
Me: ????? (Thinking this does NOT sound right.) Show me on the menu.
(Hubby points to menu selection.)
Chicken Parmigiana
Me: That's Chicken Parmigiana! (Pronouncing it correctly.)
Hubby: Oh yeah, that sounds right.
Me: JOHN ARMSTRONG! You have a degree in music, you are a composer, you listen to OPERA if anyone in our household should be able to pronounce Italian correctly, other than me who used to SING Opera, it should be YOU!
Hubby: Allegro, Pianissimo, Grande, retardando,
Me: PRECISELY!!
Hubby: This isn't music it's food!
Me: The LANGUAGE doesn't freaking suddenly change rules of pronunciation... moron!
And therein begins the evening with me *facepalming* over Chicken PAR-MEE-GEE-EYE-ANNA
Now of Course, John's sense of humor kicks in, and let me tell you, my hubby has an odd sense of humor and can run a joke into the ground. After learning the correct way to pronounce Chicken Parmigiana. The Waiter arrives, John get's this shit eating grin on his face, looks me dead in the eye as he orders, in his best hick accent "I'll have the Chicken PAR-ME-GEE-EYE-ANNA
He did it on purpose.
The shit-head.
I punched him.
Hard.