An Eff word runs through it

That's right, I'm writing again today. I believe this is the first time in Italy that I've had more than one post a day in me, so consider this a special day. So if you haven't already read this morning's shocking post about our readers doping it up, make sure and read that. It's a game changer... I was going to write this later some time next week, but I need to get it out while it's still fresh in my mind. I don't want it to lose its flavor, its life, its essence. So I'm getting it out now. This is a story, children, a story of good versus evil, and quite possibly evil triumphing over good for a very short moment. Then lots and lots of laughter resulting from it. But I will tell you this, I never lost my cool. No, not once...

So what am I writing about? I'll tell you. Let me prep this by saying that swearing in another language does not have the same kick to it as swearing in your native language. When I hear someone swear out wrath and punishment in English, I hear all the meaning that comes with it. Hearing it in another language doesn't mean all that much. But hearing a foreigner that doesn't speak English swear in English is just hilarious. It sounds like a a three year old with a speech impediment and an old person's deep voice. It doesn't happen all that often that I hear old foreign people swearing in English, but when it comes out, I have to fight to keep back the laughter/tears. It's just too much for me...

With that little intro, let me recount my day at work yesterday. I've been working on writing this speech for the president of province's environmental and energy bureau for the past couple months. I've put a lot of time into it, and the president was finally reading the speech for the first time. I just wanted to see what he had to say so that I'd know how to change it or whatever, and I had been waiting for this meeting to happen for quite a while. So with a lot of anticipation and attention I was in this meeting, listening to a man that can't speak English read a pretty detailed summary of the province's energy situation in English. He would give comments on parts of the speech that he liked or didn't like, which would usually result in some long-winded tangent about how power points are not user friendly, which would lead to he and the secretary discussing the women's clothing that made the power point, which would result in him and them violently shaking their hands at each other in Italian fashion and yelling, "momma mia!" at each other (no joke, I'm not making that up. Every stereotype you've ever thought of Italians is completely true. They never let me down...). So this meeting had been going on for a while now, over an hour, and we were only like a third of the way through the speech. One comment led to a tangent which led to another, which led to the president of the bureau talking about how to translate the Italian expression for "come on!" So I told him how to say it. Then this is the conversation that ensued:

President (speaking in Italian) "Is there a lot of slang or expressions in English? There are so many in Italian."
Me: "Yeah, English is just like Italian, it has a lot of slang and expressions. But I hardly know any in Italian, just the common ones like 'mamma mia.'"
Pres: "If you want, I'll teach you some."
Me: "Alright!"
Pres: "Like this one, '(says something in Italian that I've never heard before)'"
Secretary: "NO! Don't teach him that one!!"
Me: "What?! What is it?"
Pres: "(speaks in English to me. Imagine old Italian smoking since he was 5 years old graspy voice and super strong accent. When I write him speaking in English, I'll add 'a' before and after most words because that's how they speak English. They add the little 'a'. Think Mario speaking from Super Mario Brothers) Isa aHowa aYoua saya in English....   ... aF***a  aYOUa!"
Me: .....
Pres: "Ia aSay  aGood? aF*** aYou?"
Secretary: "aF***a aYoua?"
Me: (not ever having had a local government leader say this to me, I'm not quite sure how to respond) "yeah... yeah, that's right."
Pres: "aF*** aYOUa!..... F*** YOU!"
Me: (considering whether or not he's really pissed at me and saying that for real or if he's just trying to brush up on his English) yeah... yeah, uhu, that's how you say it... yeah
Pres: (starring straight faced at me and looking deep into my eyes) "aF*** aYOUa!"
Me: ".... great... cool...."

I can't remember what it was, but something broke the dude's concentration. The conversation, by some strange miracle, ended up going back to the speech we were working on, and we plowed our way through. A long and painful hour later I told them that I had to get going, and I packed up my gear. Things were said in that meeting that cannot be erased; things were done that cannot be undone. Everything I have ever worked for is dead, everything that I have ever hoped for has vanished. I'm alone with myself, starved, naked, and trembling. Everything I've ever known converges into one, then an eff word runs through it. I'm haunted by eff words...