September 20th, The Year of Our Lord 1743
Well kids, I realize that I haven't been around so much recently. And to make it up to you, instead of just hording all of my writing for classes, I'm going to just start posting everything I can into the blog. It'll still be funny shit, of course, because even when I write a paper for Italian…it turns out to be so fucking lame it's hilarious.
In order to see how hilariously lame it is, I'm going to run it through freetranslation.com. I want to also add that anything that is funny is intended to be, and that I know Italian a little better than I let on, so that I can make the teacher wonder if I'm being a pervert, or if I'm just failing miserably
Nicholas Joy
(Note: Gaudio means Joy in Latin, so suck my happy-pappy dick)
Italian 204
September 16, 2007
My Parents and The Dragon
A lot of years does, my parents worked to the archeological excavation to England, for sure! Their work was find the bones (big white bones!) of old animals (big white men bones!) for a lot of years, but their did search for the period of the medieval age also. To my father, likeness to study the writing, the sculpture, and the story at art of the English persons was more interesting than the English people themselves. No which not is hard to believe!
When I was a child, he wrote a big book with some summons of the English writers from each period, but, after the last digs, nothing he got ready for that my mother found. A day in July, near the town of Manchester, my mother (who was more of the archeologist and the Pope—my father like all men who are good was the writer of the search for the excavation!) found something-something very important!
To first, they did not believe their eyes, but in the land of its excavation was the ruins of a large black cable! On the walls of the hollow one, the in person paintings and weird animals with pasta between their legs! The argument of the managers was a green animal with large beef: my dragon father wrote! My mother had fear, but ran at my father and asked he look at the walls. My father saw the I fear some old painters. Pious, more distant popes in the hollow one, they kissed and I am sick to think it. My parents are old and smell vomit come to the store they ask me and I say no because you kiss me near!
My mother wanted to come with him, but my father persuaded her to be her and let him come her beside. After ten minutes, my father was face to face with the argument of the paintings and the subject of everything in his years and years of writing: dragon!
—–
And I got a strong B.
Hahahaha.
Oh me.