Life events

Funny things my friends’ kids say

kids by epSosde

Many of my friends already have children and the they are full of opinion, attitude and interesting questioning about life.

This post is to show you their interesting questions and some wise advices kids can give. Check it out.


1 – A mother takes her 3 year old daughter to have a hair cut. At the beauty salon, the hairdresser asks:
“Mother, how many little fingers are we going to cut today?”
Without waiting for the answer, the kid starts crying:
“Mum, please, just the hair, not my fingers!”

2 – On the third day of school, a mum asks her daughter:
“Heloisa, did you like the school?”
“Did you like teacher Cris?”
“Did you like your new friends?”

3 – A friend of mine has a 6 years old kid…
“Mum, I sneezed and said ‘bless you’ to myself. I am very polite.”

4 – One of the sons caught her mother watching X Factor. She pretends it was a mistake and says he can change channels if he wants.
“Don’t worry Mum… I know you watched the last season.”

5 – “Mum, you are much smarter than Dad, right?”
“Why are you saying that, son?”
“Every time I ask you a question, you answer … When I ask something to dad, he says: “Ask your mother…”

6 – “Mum, the girls at my school, don’t laugh at my jokes anymore… They look away and say ‘hunf’. This is maturity, right?”

7 – “How do you remember that, David?”
“Because I am very ‘rememberor’.”

8 – “Cum is not a bad word, mother, it’s liquid.”
“I know. I Google it.”

9 – My friend saw her son typing on YouTube: ‘Jimi Hendrics’


10 – A friend is pregnant with her second child and she asks the firstborn.
“Son, soon your brother will be born. Are you ready?”
“Of course mum … in 5 days you will lay an egg, right?!”

11 – My 3 year old godson is Hungarian-American, speaks both languages but he is fluent in English because he lives in England. His Hungarian cousin asks her mum:
“Mommy, do you know if Levente speaks like humans or only English?”

12 – One brother talks to the other:
“Look, I have a cold sore.”
“I think you should go to a cold sorelogist.”

13 – “Mum, with the letters of my name (Andre) I can write ‘A NERD’ and it is you.”

14 – A mother put some mascara and the son says:
“Wow mum, this is the famous eyelash paint.”

15 – “Mother, I’m going to make your dinner! Do you prefer beef or chicken pot noodles?”

16 – “Mum, can I buy a ten-year-old candle?”
“Son, your birthday is only in February.”
“Oh come on Mom, I’m just planning my future.”


17 – The Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera published quotes about the relationship of Italian kids with Jesus.

“Dear Jesus, did you want the giraffe like that or it was a mistake?”

“Dear Jesus, is Father Mario your friend or do you know him only from work?”

“Dear Jesus, perhaps Cain wouldn’t kill Abel if both had their own room. With my brother it works fine.”

“Dear Jesus, at Carnival I am dressing up as a devil, do you have any problem with it?”

“”Dear Jesus, are you really invisible or is it just a trick?”*

“Dear Jesus, instead of you making people die and then create new people, why don’t you stay with the ones you already have?”

See you next time 🙂

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Life events

When Drama Queen Faces Catastrophe

Gorge Clooney by Courtney

I woke up late on a Monday morning and had to rush because I didn’t want to be late (again) for work. I chose a black trousers and floral top. The makeup was okay and I needed to brush my hair when… catastrophe!


I spotted my first grey hair and to make things worse, it was almost 10 cm long…

How come I didn’t notice it before? It is in the front of my head! Ahhhhhhh!

I somehow managed to hide it amongst my dark black beautiful shine hair and went to work. On that day, it was difficult to concentrate because I spent most of my time on Google, trying to find a support group, something like AGH – Anonymous Gray Hair.


It took me two days to share my dilemma with some friends and luckily they made me feel better.

“You’re being silly, I’ve had grey hair since I was 18”, a friend told me.

“Relax. It doesn’t mean anything. Do you feel old?”, someone else asked.

“No,” I said.

“So, end of the story,” she said.

It was good to have some support but I wasn’t convinced so I asked other friends about the subject. I needed a solution.

“I pull them all,” a friend told me.

“I don’t care because my hair is blonde, so it looks like highlights,” another girl said.

I went back to my psychologist Google and found more testimonials. Women who pulled out the hairs said that more showed up. The ones who accepted the grey hair were happy (Not sure if I believe). I didn’t know what the best thing was to do so I trimmed half of the hair, confident enough that it would grow dark (Yes, I believe in miracles).


I also read articles on the subject and found out that grey hair shows up much earlier for women. (Thanks, boss) The grey hairs are inevitable and scientifically speaking is a biological action called apoptosis.

Apoptosis: when the cells that produces melanin die. Melanin produces coloured pigment for the hair and the skin. The death of this cell, called melanocyte is programmed. Therefore, the time that apoptosis starts is genetically determined (In the end is all our family’s fault).

As I found out that was no natural solution to avoid it, I accepted my new look watching films with Richard Gere and George Clooney, after all, they are grey hair icons.

Photo by Michael Vlasaty, via Wikimedia Commons


Drama Queen

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Life events

My life as a Football Player

Marcelli playing football

I lived in Milan for four months and at my first week, I found a football team called Sesto. The coach invited to join it and explained to the other girls:

“She is Brazilian.”

I always thought it was funny this things that some people associate skills with nationality. Anyway, on my first day, as soon I stepped on the pitch, all the girls, the coach and assistant were looking at me. I smiled and the coach gave me a ball.

“Can you show us some kick ups?” He asked me.

I looked at everyone, trying to understand if this was a test or what, but they didn’t say a word so I said:

“I can do four or five but I am not a specialist. I don’t play like Ronaldinho.”

“How is possible? A Brazilian who can’t do kick ups?” the coach said.

Some of the girls laughed and started running to warm up. I felt a little bit embarrassed but better to face the truth in the beginning. Isn’t it? 🙂

Anyway, I practiced some exercises with the girls at the end we played a game. My performance was good and I scored twice. I felt that my Brazilian no kick ups image was better for them. At least, I knew how to play football.

After a month, my team joined the league and every Friday we had to play.

Playing football in Italy was fun and challenging but my love for it faded when winter came. We had few games when temperatures were below 5 degrees and snowing. I was always freezing, thinking about my bed and hot chocolate. After one of those winter games, I got a cold and stayed for four days in bed.

It took a while for me to feel 100% better and I started giving excuses for not coming to the games. At the end of the year, I made a decision: retirement.

I was sad to hang up my boots but today football is for fun, specially if I go to Brazil. I am happy playing for fun, specially when I go to Brazil.

Those girls from Brazil saw me playing for 14 years; so they know my style:

I share my passion for football…


…and for the BBQ after it.





**Grazie Italia. @marcelli**

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Life events

The Misterious String

Photo by Adam Ferrari

After 14 hours on board a Sao Paulo-Madrid-Milan flight I was tired, hungry and desperate for a shower. As soon as I walked into my new house, I went straight to the bathroom. The shower area was smaller than usual, but it had everything I needed: soap, shampoo and hot water.


While I was in the shower, I stared at the wall above my head and saw a switch with a string hanging. ‘Hmm… that’s strange’, I thought. The shower has lost focus and even with foam shampoo hurting in my eyes, I was intrigued.

‘What would be that string for? To turn on the lights? Could be however there was no bulb in the ceiling.

‘Is it to unclog the drain?’ I looked down, the water was flowing fine. Does it change the water pressure? Does it turn off the bathroom lights?

What a mystery. I had this dilemma for 15 minutes until I pulled the string.

Do you know what happened?


Absolutely N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

I left the shower and asked my sister who lived in the house for five years.

“Carolina, why do we have a string at the bathroom?”

“Did you pull it? Tell me you didn’t”, she begged.

“Well, yes I did, but nothing happened.”

“Oh no, the neighbour is going to come here.”

At that moment I was completely lost. The apartment had a telephone and the doorbell… why would I call the neighbour pulling a string during my shower?

Few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Guess who was it?

The neighbour, of course, and she seemed distraught.

“Tutto bene, Carolina?” (“Are you okay, Carolina?”)

My sister apologised for my mistake and I asked for an explanation.

I found out that in Italy 70% of people are above 60 years old and because of that, some people install this string in case someone slips in the shower, feels sick or has a heart attack.


So, now you know too 🙂


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Life events

The day I met Giorgio Armani

Me and Giorgio Armani


It was August 2008 and had only been living in Milan for a month when Fashion Week hit town. I got a freelance journalist credentials and headed out to check out some shows with my brother and and his friend Cristian, they are both photographers. On Sunday, we tried to see Roberto Cavalli’s show but we had no invitation and the security didn’t let us in.

“How about the Giorgio Armani fashion show?”, my brother’s friend asked me.

By Lorenzo Bozzi, via Wikimedia Commons

This was one of the most important shows of the season and was happening in the brand building. I wasn’t in the mood to beg for security let me in, but he insisted.

“I come with you and we see what happens.”

We arrived at the door an hour and a half in advance. The street where the Armani building was located was banned by the police.

“I can say to the security guy that I’ve just arrived from Brazil and lost the invitation”, I suggested.

“No chance,” Cristian told me. “Let’s just nonchalantly walk around the building and see what happens.”

As we approached the backstage we saw a group of 30 chatty girls. Three security guards were guarding the door and the Armani staff were organising the queue. Cristian pushed me and said:

“Go! Get in queue.”

Without thinking, I walked behind the guards, manoeuvred myself around them and approached the girls, pretending to talk to them. The door opened and I followed the gaggle of women inside. Each step was an inch closer to the Giorgio Armani empire. The girls were holding a piece of paper with the name and photo of a model. I had nothing apart my poker face.

Inside the building, three employees distributed badges. I didn’t know what to do so I started wandering, escaping them. I noticed that it was a fairly standard badge and they were not asking questions. I chose what seemed to be the most friendly staff member, but as I approached she fumbled and dropped all the badges on the floor.

I stood in front of her, thinking: fuc*. I tried not to look directly at anyone. Once she managed to collect up the scattered badges, she gave it to me and apologised for the delay. On the badge was written “Vestiarista” (Stylist, in Italian). My job was assisting the models in getting dresses.


The backstage area was overflowing with racks of clothes with photos of models adorning the walls. Every 5 minutes, the security walked among us, making sure that everything was running smoothly. I was afraid of being discovered as the main show was now only an hour away. I thought of hiding in the toilet, but suddenly I saw one of the stylists confused, trying to understand the vest-bikini she was due to wear. She did not understand the logic of creation. In seconds, I had a plan in mind. I looked at her, put my bag on the floor, marking my territory and started talking to her in my Italian-Spanish-Portuguese dialect.

“The top is inside out. This part is for the shoulder, this is the front side. Did you understand?” I said. She thanked me for helping her and asked me for the toilet.. I pointed into the distance randomly and she left.

Meanwhile, a staff member walked in my direction to explain the correct way to put shoes on the model. I kept my mouth shut and nodded dumbly. The other stylist came back from the toilet, and I could tell her suspicions we’re now raised. She asked me what I was doing there and I lied.

“I’m here to assist the security staff. I need to make sure no one will picks up the clothes, shoes and accessories at the end of the show, but shhhhh… this is a secret.”

She was petrified with my revelation and didn’t ask any other questions. At that moment Giorgio Armani showed up. He walked quietly down the hall, wearing black trousers, black shirt and white shoes. The white hair and blue eyes where so bright. I was looking at him and thinking, I need to interview him.

After a while the models arrived. I pretended I was doing something, but in fact there was nothing for me to do. I looked at everybody but they were so into their jobs that I became invisible in the buzz. The first show was for the worldwide Giorgio Armani stores owners. Everything was good and the staff asked everyone to chill out. In half an hour preparations would begin for the main show. I saw a Brazilian model I knew and went to talk to her.

“Hi Flavia.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked shocked to see me.

I explained everything: how I got there, how long I was ‘hiding’ and I wanted to take a picture of the Brazilian models with Giorgio Armani and sell it to a magazine in Brazil. The problem was that I didn’t have a camera. She called the other three models, one of them had a camera and they all decided to help me.

It was a very funny scene, me with 1.60m and four skinny, tall models hunting Giorgio Armani in the backstage.

eu e a s modelos 1.JPG
Sammya, Fabiana Capra, Martha Streck, Flávia Lucini and myself

When I saw him, I walked towards him and asked in my dialect:

“Giorgio, posso take a photo of you with the models?”

He smiled and said:

“Certo che sì.” (Of course you can)

Fabiana Capra, Giorgio Armani and Flávia Lucini.jpg
Fabiana Capra, Giorgio Armani and Flávia Lucini

I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I had spoken to the Fashion Emperor and called him Giorgio, as if I was talking to my uncle. He sat by the table and the models were positioned beside him. One of them was far away and ran screaming towards us:

“Wait for meeee!”

Sammya, Fabiana Capra, Giorgio Armani, Flávia Lucini e Martha Streck.jpg
Sammya, Fabiana Capra, Giorgio Armani, Flávia Lucini and Martha Streck

The photo was great and with nothing to lose, I asked him for another favour:

“Giorgio, poss take a photo with you?”

He smiled and hugged me.

eu e giorgio armani.JPG

I thanked in Italian. “Siete fantastici!” (You are fantastic!)

He smiled and left. Once the fashion show was over, I came back home with this story to tell, a picture to be sold and another moment in time immortalized.

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