Sesso e la Città Eternà - The Wanda Complex

Or why my concentration is shot to shit this afternoon & I'm actually doing 2 updates to my blog in one day.

I've covered my predilection for foreign tongues (and you can take that phrase anyway you like) before.

The SO called me about 30 minutes ago. Curly & my co-worker the lovely English Rose where in the office with me.

"Amore look out the window."

There's SO, sitting astride his motorcycle in those jeans that I had spent all morning trying to forget. Curly smelled the blood in the water the minute the phone rang.

*high falsetto* "Ciao amore. Come home so we can have a mid-afternoon quickie"

"He's outside, dork. We're grabbing something to drink at the bar across the street. And I can't go have a quickie, I'm working."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

So we go make idle chitchat over a cold beverage while I try not to stare at his crotch & he blatantly stares at my tits, which tend to hover on the verge of Janet Jacksonism every time I wear the top I put on this morning. The topic of 'underwears' come up also, probably because a few days ago I mentioned that i want to rip his off every time he says it.

Evil bastard.

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Making Friends with the Out-Laws

Or Reasons #324 & #325 Why the Upcoming Holidays Scare the Shit Out of Me

Out-Laws: The non-legal, non-marriage version of In-Laws. Your boy/girlfriend's family.

Reasons #324: A couple of weeks back the SO & I had stopped over at his sister's place for dinner. Or rather, his sisters' place as Rome Sister #1 has a son (who I must say has nicely outgrown that Terrible Toddler stage*) and Rome Sister #2 live with her & helps look after the kiddo.

Rome Sister #1 called me into her bedroom after dinner & started heaping old clothes on me which she could no longer fit into, all while asking my opinion on the clothes & constantly saying "If you don't want them just toss them."

Which is just code for "I double dog dare you to offend me by questioning my taste."

Sesso e la Città Eterna: Wheeee?

Vomiting & nausea: an unfortunate occasional side effect of riding a rollercoaster...

The SO is a multinational mutt: half French, half Italian. Raised in Rome, the south coast of France & North Africa. Speaks Italian, French, Arabic, & English

(It's so cute when he screws up in English. "Amore, where are my underwears?" Tesoro, thanks to that statement you won't be needing them for a while. Trust me.)

Am in desperate need of holidays. Work is kicking my ass and there's no workers comp for going prematurely grey. So tickets have been bought & for a week in August we'll be staying at his family home as his entire family converges in one place: a brother, a niece, 4 sisters, a nephew, mother, father, & an aunt that helped raise him.

I've met most of them at one point or another. To a one, they are all absolute nutters. I mean that in a good way; Middle Sis can well attest that our family has its fair share of pathological psychodramatic personality quirks. No casting of stones from me.

SO leaves on the 31st of July due to work; because I parleyed a work fuckup by a colleague into extra time off, I leave on the 29th. With one of his sisters who lives here in Rome.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Sesso e La Città Eterna: Mid-Coital Muttering Deja Vu

I fondly remember my full on freak out over the SO's mid-coital Declaration of Luuuuv. I had naturally asked Curly for the male point of view regarding Mid-Coital Mutterings.

"So just how serious are Mid-Coital Mutterings in general? Are we talking 99.9% Grade-A Prime Bullshit resulting from a severe lack of blood loss to the brain? Is it the little head talking for the big head, spouting off what it hopes is verbal lube? Or am I in for some major trouble with Shithead wanting to get serious?"

"Well, the lack of blood to the brain does tend to make one rather uninhibited..."

"Which means?"

"You are so fucked."

Ah. Memories. So pleasant & humorous in retrospect.

If I thought I was fucked before, Saturday's Mid-Coital Mutterings indicate I am about to be fucked DVDA* stylee:

Volgio sposarti

Go on. Stick that little phrase into Babblefish. I'll wait for you to come back.

Back?

I'm fucked, right?

Once again I turned to Curly for advice, this time via SMS.

"remember the freak out I had over SO declaring his love for me mid-shag? This time he said he wants to marry me. I'm fucked aren't I?"

"Shall I book your ticket to ________** now? When are you gonna learn to shove a sock in his mouth before doing the horizontal mambo? Did you say 'I doh' ?"***

"Oh shit. I was too busy having an orgasm to say 'I doh'. The sock idea is good - might use that out of bed too. Oh shit oh shit oh shit."

Like that wasn't enough, it seems like everyone has marriage on the brain. We were at Marco Bevecomeunaspugna's place enjoying the new barbeque grill yesterday with his partner & their adorable little girl when the subject of marriage came up - more specifically "When are you going to get married, SO?" Thank Dog dusk managed to cover my flushing red cheeks.

To top it all off, I called my dad for Father's day yesterday.

"Hey Dad. Happy Father's Day"
"Long Lost Daughter! How are you?"
"Eh, good."
"Anything new in Rome?"
"Not really. Same shit, different day."
"Gotcha. Just the normal Colosseum, Pope, ancient ruins.."
"Heh. Basically. Though the Pope is new."
"True. So are you engaged?"
"WHAT?!"
"Well, just thought I'd throw stuff out there & see what stuck."

Jesus F. Christ, y'all. It's a goddamned conspiracy.

---

* If you don't know what that stands for, be forewarned that a Google search is going to give you some seriously explicit porn
** For another entry, but the SO has been making noises about moving to a different country
*** 'I doh' is an inside joke between Curly & I from waaaay back when. SO had seen a message from Curly, who predictably had made some smartarsed comment about SO, me, & saying 'I do'. SO didn't understand the reference, and, as I hemmed & hawed trying to avoid explaining the English version of wedding vows, asked Curly what 'I doh' meant.

File Under: Bitchery, of the Work Variety

One of the many hats I wear at my job includes what's commonly known as SEO or Search Engine Optimisation. It's an area of web geekery that is rife with scam artists, nefarious practices, & plagiarism or something damn near close to it.

I practice none of the above, naturellement. And still manage to beat the (very stiff) competition 95 % of the time.

I've dealt with outright plagiarism before* and gnashed my teeth over the damn near close to it variety. But we'll file this under the 'Highly Amused' category.

For ease of picking my site out of the search results line up as well as the secondary benefit of users being able to do the same, I capitalise the entire name of the place of business.

Just about everyone of our competitors has followed suit.

Imagine that.

I should change to all lower case letters just to watch the lemmings fall off the cliff.


* and won. Duh. Maybe I should just tattoo 'Don't Fuck with Me' on my forehead so certain parties get the picture