» Featured

WTF Is Life All About Anyway?

admin — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 02:24:01 +0000

That is the question I was asking myself as I was driving myself home from another miserable day on the road. You see, I am a cabinet refacing salesman, like it or not –And I don’t like it. Today, I heard the same response three separate and distinct times. “No”, “No”, and “No” once more. But I asked you: “is there anything other than price that would stop you from buying today?” You said “No.” And still you said “No.” when it came time to buy. You fucking liars, you.
But I can not blame Mr. Joe Citizen for not electing to purchase my over-priced bullshit cabinet refacing. Do you know how much that shit actually costs?

You see, it’s my fault. My fault for ending up here in the first place. I chose to be here. No one put a gun to my head and said “die the slow death of a meaningless cabinet refacing salesman.” On the contrary, it was my slow, long progression of fuck ups that lead me here, and my continued incompetance which keeps me here still.
Fuck you if you think I am full of self pity. I’m just telling you like it is. Maybe this is my epiphany — Did you ever think of that?

I know this website is called the Italian Cooking Club, and right about now you are thinking “WTF does this have to do with Italian cooking, anyway?” I’ll tell you what it has to do with Italian cooking, nothing. And I really don’t give a shit because it’s my website.
Look, here’s the point: Life must be taken by the balls. It must be tackled, mastered, conquered, devoured and any other bullshit verb you can think of.

Selling (or failing to sell) cabinet refacing to people in order to feed my family has taught me this great lesson. VERITAS. The truth. You have to look in the mirror and see the truth about yourself, or else you are doomed for sure. What’s your truth?

So when I show up at your front door with two big bags full of cabinet door samples, remember one thing: You can go ahead and tell me “no”, but I know the truth. And the truth is, I know where you live.

VERITAS.

If I Don’t Get My Polenta, I’m Gonna Scream!!!

admin — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 02:04:41 +0000

In our latest adventure, the talk at the breakfast table goes from “what’s for dinner?” to absolute mayhem — And it all happens in under five minutes. When the big Bad Roman doesn’t get what he wants, he starts to act like a baby Bad Roman.
Enjoy the show.

Boy Bands And Italian Cooking Tips

admin — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 03:00:27 +0000

To the music of Total Eclipse of The Heart, Paolo gives the day’s run down and an easy to remember cooking tip.
Enjoy the video.

Latest Bad Roman Video — My Job Sucks!!!

admin — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 20:30:55 +0000

Bath Time With The Bad Romans

admin — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 01:40:56 +0000

If you thought that a nice warm bath at the end of the day is a nice relaxing event, think again. The Bad Roman family proves that bath time is just as loud and obnoxious as any other time. And that’s a fact Jack.

One More Bite Of A Mani-Gott And I’m-A Gonna Puke

admin — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 19:17:39 +0000

Honestly, I’m totally sick of them. That’s what happens between Thanksgiving and New Years. It all starts innocently enough — You go to grandmas or Aunt Ethels for the big meal, and sure enough the opening course is Manicotti, AKA “Mani-gotts”.

Then, they send you home with a weeks worth of leftovers. Then, as the Christmas seasons hits full swing, you go to at least two or three parties where they serve (you guessed it) more Mani-gotts.

By time Christmas day rolls around, you have had Mani-gotts out the ass and your are about to flip out. Right now, today. December 28th, I have about six pounds of mani-gotts sittin’ in my fridge. The thought of eating them makes me sick, and the thought of throwing them out makes me sick too — So they’ll sit there…..And sit there, until my wife finally throws a fit and forces me to toss them.

Like with anythng else, too much of a good thing is a bad thing. I love mani-gotts, that is until I hate them. And right now I hate them. And I won’t get past that hate until maybe next Thanksgiving. Although it is quite possible that I will eat them again this spring when Aunti Jen tries to force them on me over Easter dinner.

Happy New Year.

Take My Wife…. Leave The Cannolis

admin — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 18:36:12 +0000

Okay –I am going to go out on a limb today and write about a serious hypothetical. Here it is. What food would you trade for your wife or husband? Boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Admittedly if he or she is not a spouse but a boyfriend or girlfriend you are probably still in the midst of hot and heavy young love and you won’t trade them for a steak pizzaiola.

But, if you have been married for five years or more, you may just be willing to give up your significant other for your favorite gastronomic delights. If you are going to make such a trade it better be worth it. I thought about this and I came up with a couple of dishes that would get me to say arrivederci to my beloved.

My wife or Zuppa Di Pesce? Zuppa Di Pesce! Clams, mussels, shrimp linguine — No question.

My Wife or Chicken Cacciatori? My Wife. Chicken is so over done.

My Wife or Rissoto al Funghi? My wife. I’m not a huge rice fan.

My wife or Ziti With Bolognese Sauce? If you throw a scoop of ricotta cheese on top… I’ll take the ziti.

My Wife or Pesce al Forno? You think I’d leave my wife for baked fish? Don’t insult me.

My Wife or Meatballs? Actually this one is a tie. But I do love meatballs.

My Wife or Fresh Baked Biscotti? My wife. She is much sweeter than biscotti, although I can’t dip her in my espresso.

My Wife or Lasagna? No contest. Lasagna!

My Wife or a Veal Cutlet Dinner Sorry Honey.
with a side of spaghetti .

I could go on and on, but I don’t want my wife to throw me out of the house over this posting. Next week, I cover the dishes that I would trade my children for.

Just kidding.