Back in the USSRUSA

Home for the holidays does not apply here. Home is Rome, ergo I ain't at home right now. But a visit to see the fam was in order, if only to ensure my continued presence in my parents' wills (yo, I'm joking sis)

Let me just say that it's no fucking wonder why Delta is on the verge of bankruptcy. 1.5 meals with no free wine on a 10 hour flight is not my idea of service. The plane hadn't even been retrofitted with those nifty headrest TVs. And when the cost of alcohol is not adjusted for various currencies, it tends to piss me off. Four dollars DOES NOT equal four Euros, you greedy, grasping little fucks.

Add to that the eternal joy to be found in a 15 minute late arrival, watching one cart of the flight's luggage arrive, waiting twenty minutes for your bag to be unloaded so that you may proceed through customs to recheck your bag domestically, and then sprinting to the other fucking end of the airport so that you can make your connecting flight with literally 3 minutes to spare and you have a customerformer customer who will be frolicking on your corporate grave when you finally go tits up.

I'm not even going to describe my infinite loathing for the Department of Homeland Security posters at border control.

Moi Lolita

It's the beginnings of a MidLife Crisis.

That's the only possible explanation for the drastic measures taken yesterday to cover up the grey hairs I've been finding more frequently lately. Not only did I walk into the hairdresser's with nary a qualm, I walked in and asked for not just a trim, but a full-on change of style and color.

Those of you that are familiar with my phobia of hairdressers from previous blog entries realise that this is akin to me walking into the gyno's office and asking for instantaneous insemination NOW!

Not only did I brazenly, wantonly sashay into the hairdreser's and ask for zee works, I even had a photo of what I wanted more or less. Which is where, you fair reader, might begin to question my sanity

What chick in their right mind walks into a beauty salon with a picture of a Victoria's Secret model and says "I want to look like that, only more mahogany."

My boss's little daughters didn't recognize me last night.

I have bangs, people.

I haven't had bangs since I was 12.

Sesso e la Città Eternà - You Fellas are so Cute When Marking Your Territory

Really. I get this little mental image of y'all lifting your leg and pissing a boundary around the object in question and growling in that way which means "Cross that line and you'll be fertilizer, bub."

Object in question this time being moi.

An old Aussie friend of mine is visiting and staying at my place for a week until his SO arrives, at which point he moves into a hotel. Long ago he acquired the nickname Elephantium Maximus due to a rather puerile, under-the-influence night back before Shithead and I started dating. I had shagged Elephantium Maximus one drunken night before this story starts (which in itself is a story best saved for another time). I digress...

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Shithead Goes Fishing

I'd like to say that things have been rather quiet without BG around, but that would be a patent falsehood as I've been dealing with everything from

- a shower leaking into the bakery below our flat (Curly is no longer allowed to use power tools in our flat)

to
-the Noisy Doorwoman Bitch continuously commenting on the number of 'strange people' coming out of our flat.(They're our friends and SO's, bitch. Unlike you, we are young, beautiful and get laid on a semi-regular basis.)

to
- some dumbshit that BG had rented her room out to for a month of her absence turning out to be a complete pain in the ass (She now owes me close to 300€ and that's not counting this month's rent. Color me pissed.)

Plus I have a veritable assload of work to get done before I leave for Dallas the 14th and I have no fucking desire to do any of it (hence the blog post)

Quiet? No.

Thanksgiving was good. I got recognition for the divine cooking goddess I am (though I've just about run out of creative leftover turkey recipes) and mass amounts of wine were consumed; unfortunately we didn't get a chance to piss off the Noisy Doorwoman Bitch as she was out of town that day. Pity, that.

STRONG ENOUGH TO HANDLE THE BIGGEST LOADS

Look what I got from Shithead's weekend jaunt to Amsterdam.

*cue 70's porno music*