Favoloso Mondo

Muscial Interlude

2012-01-23T15:52:00.000+01:00

Been humming this to myself all weekend. I blame it on (in no particular order)

the BF's hot calico 3 day beard scruff
him stopping a car theft and then emergency babysitting so his friend could take his sick wife to the ER, all in the same night
a rousting political argument which ended up with him asking
"We've never fought in almost a year and now you're getting mad at me over the crisis?"
"I'm not mad, I'm just really irritated." ¹
him lounging on my bed shirtless while messing around on his iPhone, beard scruffy and wearing his new eyeglasses and that happy trail leading straight to the seatbelt buckle belt that makes a lovely little metallic *snikt* clank when you open it ²

¹I'm a "little bit to the left" like water is a little bit wet.
²Am getting a bit Pavlov's dog about that belt buckle. I hear that sound and my pink bits automagically turn into a Brazilian Rain Forest: hot, humid and extremely damp.

Skewed Motherfuckin' Perspective & Sliding Doors

2012-01-11T15:34:00.003+01:00

A conversation today between Will and I about celebrating my birthday last night:

"I'm a bit flabbergasted. He organized my birthday dinner out at Ariccia with everyone, bought me a cake, had them turn out the lights when they brought it in, surprised me with two lovely gifts and told our other friends who my favorite author is and how much I love reading. And he's taking me out of town for mini-holiday next week. He's spoiling me rotten."

"Honey, I don't know how to say this without being really horrible about it."

"Oh just say it. You're not going to offend me."

"Well honey, that's what boyfriends in normal relationships do. And he's obviously crazy about you."

"I am so fucked up, aren't I?"

"Just a bit, sweetie. I can't believe you were with that, that..."*purses lips*

"Shithead?" *grin*

"Yes. I can't believe you wasted so much time on him."

A sentiment with which I can well agree, but on the other hand, had things gone differently I might not have ever met Mon Ange né Ma Liason. Hence the reference to a tempid Gwyneth Paltrow flick in the title...

The promised updates shall arrive soon, cari amichi. No, really. Now that the hols are over (and yes, I count my birthday as a motherfuckin' holiday, yo) I plan to get this post backlog finished up and make good with my resolution of blogging more often.

I'm also trying to quit smoking, so my whacked out theory is that since I don't smoke in front of my computer, keeping my hands busy at the keyboard will help.

Will and Olive are also quitting smoking, so it's gonna be Bitch City 'round these here parts for a while... :D

Intermission

2011-12-05T23:21:00.000+01:00

"You need to update your blog."

Ja, don't I know it. September sort of sucked, October was meh, and November saw me back Stateside for Middle Sis' storybook wedding and Thanksgiving, Ma Liason in tow.

I should probably find a new name for Ma Liason finally, seeing as he met all of my family and I've only ever brought a guy to meet the family once before. (My Inner Neurotic is currently screaming "AND LOOK HOW FUCKED UP THAT TURNED OUT, HMMMMMMM?!" Shut up, Inner Neurotic.)

Plus, to the great delight of Olive*, I have been been breaking out in massive amounts of HIVES due to the plethora of PDA-tastic Ti Amo's, utterly diabetes inducing declarations of luuuuuurv, and maybe a small feeling out of future plans together which might or might not involved him using the words ci sposiamo.

That sound you hear is the Inner Neurotic hyperventilating into a paper bag while hives explode upon my body.

Anywho, I will be picking up from where I left off, if only to introduce his batshit insane family. And then you too can all marvel with me about how a perfectly lovely, generous, caring and outrageously nice fellow managed to result from the nice yet manipulatively egocentric mess that is his immediate family.

A presto

* Who has also apparently been taking bets with another friend of ours as to whether or not I would come back married or engaged. Luckily she knows that the phrase "I hate you bitches" is my way of professing my deep and abiding platonic-overlooking-the-shores-of-lesbos love for my homegirls.

And the house of cards comes tumbling down...Pt. I

2011-09-14T12:59:00.001+02:00

After a rather late night out Saturday, I awoke Sunday morning around 7am to Ma Liason frenetically pulling on clothes.

“There's missed calls and messages from my brother that they've taken my grandfather to the hospital.”

He calls his brother to get details and I hear his brother through the iPhone speaker tell him that their grandfather didn't make it.

His wail is heartwrenching. “What do you mean he didn't make it?” I hug him tightly as he cries, rubbing his back in circles, disjointedly remembering that my mom would do the same when I was a child.

He abruptly continues getting dressed, “I have to go there.” I attempt to cajole him into slowing down, beg even. Just give yourself 15 minutes, I say. I'll make you coffee, you just woke up, you shouldn't be driving on the motorcycle right this immediate instant when you've had such a huge shock.

He acquiesces to the coffee, abruptly sits down on my couch like his legs gave out and begins to sob. Huge body racking, air gulping sobs ripped from his soul. I bend over him and hug him and rub his back again.

When he stops, he grabs his helmet, refuses to wait for me to make him some coffee. I trail him to the door, where I grab his chin and look at him. His eyes bright blue and bloodshoot, all puffy and slitty from too little sleep and too much shock; he refuses to meet mine. “Text me when you get there.”

He doesn't. I gnaw at a ragged cuticle, try to distract myself with reading a book, of which I read a sentence and immediately go back to the beginning of it, like a record skipping, because I've totally forgotten what I just read.

Simon's Cat: Cat & Mouse

2011-09-03T14:49:00.000+02:00

Breaking News

2011-08-24T18:21:00.000+02:00

Olive: HOLY SHITTTT
Olive: Change your fb status honey pie
Me: Why?
Olive: Ta Liason is now in a relationship
Me: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Olive: I am grinning so hard right now
Olive: I wish I was with you to witness your hives
Me: BITCH
Me: OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK
Olive: Oh I am going to have fun with this
Me: Seriously you wrote that and I felt like I'd just gone on the first hill of a massive roller-coaster. Whoah
Olive: Are you freaking out yet?
Me: Um, a bit. The low blood sugar isn't helping
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. OK FINE I'M FREAKING OUT A LOT
Olive: Well I just left my thoughts on this change
Olive: Holy shit
Me: *whimper* oh shite
Olive: Why am I freaking out with you
Olive: And he put your anniversary down
Me: I hate you Olive
Olive: 16 march, correct?
Me: HOLY FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?
Me: I am going to start hyperventilating in about 2 seconds
Olive: Doll just breathe
Me: OMG HE DID
Olive: You know that you are in a relationship this is just another weird step to confirm
Olive: And he just linked it to you
Me: SHIT
Me: Logically I know the FB relationship status change freakout is silly
Me: but dude, I haven't told my dad that I'm seeing someone yet :D
Me: (Dad and I don't talk a whole lot, which is why I haven't mentioned it to him - I think I last talked to him for US Fathers' Day because he didn't pick up his phone for his birthday.)
Olive: Well its probably better to tell him when its official
Olive: Jesus that means you and Ta Liason have been together for over 5 months now
Me: Time flies when you're fucking like rabid weasels in heat
Read more »

More Summer Excerpts

2011-08-20T21:08:00.000+02:00

Will: Feed me.
Me: I am going to call you Seymour for that one.
Will: Grow a penis and come make love to me?
Me: Nope, sorry. Apart from the no penis thing, my hip bones are already bruised enough
Will: Damn you.
Will: What will I eat?!
Will: I guess I could chew on some tylenol pm and wash it down with vodka.
Will: Is that a well-balanced meal?
Me: For a drama queen, yes :D
Will: Bitch.

My latest auto-gol in Italian
A friend, looking at pics of the Alpine getaway: Aò, ma sempre con 'sto culo in tutte le foto.
Me: Mica è colpa mia. Mi prende sempre da dietro.
Me: *dies when I realise what i just said while everyone else is laughing their asses off*
"Eesh, always with your ass in all of the photos."
"It's not my fault. He takes (pictures of) me always from behind."

Will: I knew it was time to leave when I started playing with Olive's nipples

Me: We were pretty toasty last night. I'd feel awkward about Ma Liason not really drinking, but then I remember that me getting drunk means that he get teh butt seks.

Me: I need to charge my phone and brush my teeth with something other than cock.
Olive: Yes you do and scrub well before I see you tonight: I don't want to snog cock breath

Me: I want a stripper pole.
Olive: Do you want Ta Liason to have a heart attack?
Olive: I think last night we promised him a threesome for his birthday
Me: Or something about watching. This is why Will should not leave us alone and unsupervised.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

2011-08-14T23:18:00.001+02:00

Wherein Olive & I dissect my 4 day Alpine getaway with Ma Liason and a friend of his...

"The food was so good. But oh my god, TMI warning, but I could not take a dump for 3 days. I finally managed some pissant little turd the the night before we left. Ma Liason apparently had the same problem."

"Please tell me you two did not get blocked up because you didn't want to fart in front of each other."

"So the A-word was used during the trip."

"A-word?"

"Amore. As in, 'Fammi una foto con il mio amore.'"

"Oh." *snicker*

"Ja. And the beard burn lasted for another two days and I almost had sex in the changing cubicle of the thermal baths."

Read more »

Will & Olive-isms

2011-08-07T21:32:00.004+02:00

Olive: *squees* "Look at that cute baby. See, it's smiling at me."
Will: "Olive, it's smiling at you because it looks at your enormous rack and thinks 'Dinner.'"

Olive: "I always wear underwear. Except sometimes."

Will (to Olive): You have a yellow stain on the back of your shirt and your boob is popping out.

Will: (smsing us) No you morons that was the wrong stop and now I'm lost.
Olive: Maybe we should put a GPS tracker on him.
Me: Yeah, we can shove it up his happy place.

(at the beach)
Olive: The entire lower half of your face is covered in beard burn.
Me: Ugh, I know. My lips feel huge. Do I have a mark on the side of my neck?
Olive: Yup. Nice hickey.
Me: Bugger. I haven't had a hickey in years.
Olive: I'm surprised you can walk today.
Me: Yeah, I'm lucky I don't have fingerprint bruises on my ass. It's ok, though. Check out his back.
Olive: Holy shit.
Me: Wolverine has nothing on me baby.

Olive: so are you ready to change your relationship status yet?
Me: OMG change my relationship status? THE HIVESSSS THEYS ITCHESSSSS!
Olive: It's obvious he cares for you a lot.
Olive: I'm waiting for the "Ti amo" to slip out
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHH HIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVVVVESSSSSSSSS
Olive: I love this game: Let's Make You Break Out in Hives. So much fun.
Me: Evil bitch.

Me: Who do we have to blow to land you the consultancy?
Olive: Yeah.
Will: They're two females.
Me: I can lick pussy if necessary.
Olive: Blackmail could work too.

Me: I think my cervix needs an ice pack.
Olive: TMI, my dear. T.M.I.

Me: Hey Hooker
Will: Listen, Lafayette - not sure how it happened, but I really want you to get out of my friend's body and give her back her pattern of speech.

Olive: I was the only female with 7 men sitting in a circle around me. It was like the beginning of a bad porn.

Will: I'm very nice to people.
Me: Unless they have cheap ugly shoes.

Sun, Sand & Gettin' Serious

2011-07-25T15:32:00.001+02:00

Yesterday found me, Will, all three of my flatmates, a friend of theirs and Ma Liason beachside. This was notable not only for the fact that all of us managed to get together for the first time in a very long while, but also for the fact that Ma Liason had the rare entire Sunday off work.

He also hates the beach. He has skin like a red-head's; one hour on a pedalo in the middle of an Abbruzzo lake resulted in him looking like a lobster for almost a week. So I was caught by surprise by earlier in the week when he proposed going to the beach.

"Andiamo al mare domenica? Magari vedi un po se Will e Olive vogliano venire pure."
"Cosa? Ma tu odi andare al mare."
"Ebbene ma se ci sei tu è diverso..."

So after a bit of a late start due to the weather forecast faking us out ¹, we all met up at our local beach hangout, whereupon I promptly slathered SPF 50 all over Ma Liason; I was having no repeats of our daytrip to Abbruzzo. And it worked :) Viva kiddie sunblock. Plus, for my excellence in sunblock application I got a back massage later. I'm pretty sure that's just a socially acceptable way of feeling me up in public, not that I'm complaining...

Read more »

Zombie Pigeon

2011-07-15T14:04:00.001+02:00

I walked into the bathroom a couple of hours ago and found one of my flatmates' cats with what appeared to be a freshly killed pigeon between its paws. This cat easily weighs 6 kilos, if not more. While surprisingly agile, gravity is still its arch-nemisis. My first thought was "Darwin wins again" because that must have been one stupid pigeon to fly into a bathroom and then proceed to get caught by Alpha Fat Cat.

I shooed the other (skinny, but Beta) cat out of the bathroom, closed the door so that dead pigeon carcass wouldn't be spread around the house, and called my flatmate.

After hanging up with her, I went back into the bathroom in order to pry the other cat away from the flying rat carcass. Much to my surprise, I found the pigeon perched on top on the shower stall and Alpha Fat Cat mrowing at its unobtainable prey.

So there's a fucking zombie pigeon in my bathroom, and my plans to grab a quick shower and go grocery shopping are well and truly fucked for the next couple of hours.

And let's not forget I'm allergic to the little flying rats...

On Flashing Red Lights

2011-06-30T18:24:00.003+02:00

Chatting with Olive about a third person's relationship ¹ brought up the phrase "That would be a big fucking flashing red light to me." Which reminded me of a night out in Ariccia ² with some friends about a year ago.

Thanks to a discussion about how someone's cats would pet their fish, I found myself recounting the time the Shithead had bought two goldfish. For the cats to eat.

He had always gone on ³ about buying them either a couple of white mice or goldfish to eat, arguing that it was in their animal nature. I had always put my foot down, not only because ewww, cruel but also knowing how the cats played with their toys, I didn't really want to clean mousey blood spatter off the white walls of the flat.
Read more »

Things to Reacclimate To

2011-06-24T01:49:00.001+02:00

There's some stuff to which I am having to reacclimate with Ma Liason, or even in some cases, simply acclimate. In short:

Having sex. Quite apart from the whole "muscles I forgot existed" thing, the second time he came over I bled like the proverbial virgin, right onto the white duvet cover as we didn't make it under the covers. I didn't even notice until we got up off the bed after and he pointed it out.
"Ti ho fatto del male?"
"Era un po scomodo proprio al inizio ma sarebbe la colpa di ieri sera; dopo un paio di secondi era tutt'ok. Anzi, altro che semplicemente OK. Perché?"
*He indicates the splotches of blood on my duvet cover*
"Oh. Oh cazzo."
< sarcasm >Yeah, not embarrassing at all.< /sarcasm >

My Cherry Has Been Popped

2011-06-19T15:29:00.002+02:00

I have finally become part of the crime victim statistics, under the heading "Pickpockets & Bag Thieves" heading. Not only have I escaped unscathed in Rome for 13 years, but I have never ever been robbed in my adult life. (I'm not going to count when they robbed my childhood home and took my piggy bank.)

I was sitting outside having aperitivi in Trastevere with Will, a visiting girl friend of mine, her new boyfriend and another Rome based friend of hers. I had a large purse with me as the plans was to go over to Ma Liason's place after he finished working. So I had my little bag of make-up, my glasses & contact lens case, a jacket to go on his motorcycle after, sunglasses and the usual purse paraphernalia of wallet, money & sundry documents, keys and iPod. I hung it off the back of my chair, fairly firmly wedged in between the chair back and the wall behind me.

My weekend pack of cigarettes was on the chair next to my leg as was my cell since one of my flatmates was joining us and I had been waiting for her call to signal her arrival in Piazza Trilussa. She called and I sent Will to go grab her. And here is where I am 95% sure that a Gypsy woman made off with my purse, as Will had been sitting facing me.

When I realised what had happened, you could say it put a bit of a damper on the night's burgeoning festivities. The other males went a searching up the nearby streets for a bit to see if they had dumped my purse in a bin after taking the money and good bits. Will actually shadowed the gypsy woman who had been hanging around.

"But then she made me, and I didn't want to get beaten up by some Gypsy pimp or whatever, so I came back."

I just sort of sat in a bit of a dazed shock for a bit, while my friend appointed herself as my Official Glass Refiller for the night. I did get a bit damp eyed for a few moments, but all things considered I was surprisingly sanguine, resigned to the inevitable morass of paperwork ahead to replace my docs.

Read more »

I think it might be illegal to orgasm this often...

2011-06-12T15:04:00.001+02:00

...I jest, but since Ma Liason gets off on getting me off multiple times, my mattress is getting thoroughly hosed on an extremely frequent basis. I had to tell him to stop last night because Loin Lake Eerie had progressed to Small Loin Locked Sea.

"Are you embarrassed?"
"Well yeah, a bit. I mean hello, the entire bed is pretty much soaked. Except maybe that corner over there."
"So what? I like it."

And with that he shoved me back down on the (slightly soggy) bed and continued to make my toes curl so hard they exploded out the top of my head.

Do you have any idea how often I am washing the sheets lately?! I need to go to Ikea and buy some more because I'm sort of embarrassed how much laundry I am doing, not to mention I'm sure my flatmates would appreciate it if I would stop hogging the clothes line.

Read more »

sudo apt-get install clone-me

2011-06-07T18:23:00.000+02:00

Either there needs to be 48 hours in a day or I figure I need one clone each for

the pile of work I have to get done
meeting up with the large number of out-of-town friends coming in/here this month as well as the local group of friends
sleeping
writing blog entries
Ma Liason

So. tired...

A New Subject...

2011-05-21T14:54:00.000+02:00

..for this here blog:

Cooking.

Without being fauxly modest about it, I am a damn good cook. There's the family recipes & comfort foods. There's the improvisation with whatever I have on hand. There's the experimentation with new recipes found on various cooking blogs.

When I cook, people start slavering for days beforehand. My Bastardised Tex-Mexican is famous (rightly so, as it's taken years of yummy experimentation to figure out how to make do without cheddar & jack cheeses...) and I get requests to make this or that for potlucks or picnics.

Read more »

Making Me Giggle

2011-05-16T13:09:00.001+02:00

With the mid-morning sun bouncing off the warm cobblestones of a Sunday-empty Trastevere piazza, suddenly getting swept off my feet and carried across the shallow sudsy grey puddle created by buckets of post-mopping water from an opening restaurant...

...that's like Sandra Bullock in a rom-com type of cute. My bitchy nihilistic inner cynic is totally battling it out with my inner Disney princess right now.

Thanks Blogger

2011-05-13T19:12:00.001+02:00

That was sarcasm.

Blogger has apparently had issues and my post from the other day was unpublished, and apparently reinstated only half way as I've lost the last three paragraphs...

...and it's back. Yay.

The Honeymoon Period

2011-05-11T13:11:00.001+02:00

Wherein you are walking funny from excessive horizontal mamboing and are lucky if your friends don't throttle you, because every other sentence out of your mouth is some reference to the guy you have started seeing...

For fuck's sake, I almost want to throttle me. But we've already determined that I am Her Royal Highness TMI, Intergalactic Queen of Oversharing ¹, so even though I attempt to edit myself, shit keeps popping out like champagne corks at New Year's. Usually while giggling like an idiot. Gah.

You can't see me, but the face palmage is epic...

In my defence, I think my brains melted out my ears about two weeks back, a side effect of shagging like two rabid weasels in heat. I heartily endorse dating a younger man, because WOO-BOY CAN WE SAY STAMINA?! My flat mates are taking great joy in teasing me, pointing out that I've lost my little love handles. Who needs a gym when you can fuck your way into bikini form?

Read more »

I wonder if the minister has a knee boner…

2011-04-29T16:30:00.000+02:00

Crossposted from Favoloso Mondo: Redux , my Tumblr.

Olive, an Olive, and a Breakup

2011-04-25T17:13:00.002+02:00

My darling Will has broken up with his boyfriend of a year, which hooo boy could I say a few thousand extra juicy words on the subject of Will's Ex, but won't out of respect for Will and any future book deals this blog might garner me¹. Last night we dragged him out to our friend's place for a glutton-tastic Easter dinner party.

I've discovered that eating an outrageous amount of cholesterol is Hangover Fairy Repellent. Between my grandmother's torta salata recipe², a metric buttload of deviled eggs, potato salads, pierogies, and various other Easter foodstuff involving eggs, cheese, meat or some combination thereof, I think my liver is protesting at the insane amount of cholesterol ingested last night instead of giving me grief for the equally large amount of alcohol we used to wash it all down. Either that or I'm going to have a retroactive hangover 3 days from now.

Read more »

Easter Quickies

2011-04-22T19:05:00.004+02:00

Inappropriate Pigtails: Getting me mistaken for ten years younger. Also the name of my new band.

To my girl friend ~~(who will be getting a nickname soon, I promise! :)~~ Olive

"Cosa faresti se ti scopo così tutto la notte, fino l'alba."

Fuck, that was hot.

And yet the snarky section of my brain made me think "Probably pass out cold, considering I am currently a gigantic puddle of mindless quivering goo."

Upon the Ex-BG suddenly appearing on Facebook:
Read more »

I Don't Remember How to Do This

2011-04-12T16:34:00.002+02:00

So I have the beginnings of a post on the perils of Internet Dating sites, which I keep meaning to finish off eventually. But today I've sort of been musing on the Post NRA II: RNRA interactions with the opposite sex.

There was the guy who gave me a total intellectual & physical wide-on. We played a few rounds of tonsil hockey, until I discovered that he was actually dating a friend of a friend. Who was a single mom and had the usual single mom problems with the father of her child. She was extraordinarily cool when we talked, but to say I felt like absolute shit is a mild understatement. Actually, I thought I was gonna hurl. "Hi. Yeah, I didn't sleep with your boyfriend, but we made out in his car." I was torn between abject grovelling apologies and wanting to beat the everliving shit out of this dude for her. You don't fuck around with single moms. Single moms are sacrosanct.

So that sucked.

Read more »

Adventures in Slipstreaming

2011-03-29T16:21:00.000+02:00

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to be a geek.

Being everyone's go-to gal for anything even remotely related to IT sometimes reminds me of just how fast things progress. Case in point: wiping & reinstalling a SATA hard drive on an AMD 2 motherboard.

Ubuntu 10.10? No fucking problem. Easy peasy.

Windows XP Sp3? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Loading the MB drivers asks for a god-damned floppy disk with the drivers on it. This particular machine does not have a floppy drive. I have a floppy drive in my PC, but no floppies lying around. So trying to create a slipstream disk is rapidly becoming a never ending loop of "Slipstream, Burn, Switch Cables (My Country for a KVM Switch), Try Slipstreamed Disk, BSOD or Missing UlSata.sys or no HD to be found, Switch cables back, Find other driver(s), Repeat"

Gah.

While editing my footnotes...

2011-03-24T23:43:00.000+01:00

... about Rocco Siffredi in the entry below, I was reminded that my self-pleasuring activities have taken a bit of a green hue.

No, am not frigging myself off to Kermit, The Hulk, leprechauns, Idina Menzel as Elphaba from Wicked or any other green tinged Rule #34 porn.

I now have rechargeable batteries for my vibrator. Rumor has it that several CEO's in the Battery Industry committed ritual seppaku due to the decrease in profits.

How's them apples for a reach around, Al Gore?

Ok, maybe I'm fibbing a bit on the Idina Menzel thing. Also: Yoda? Hot. [Insert lightsaber joke here][Insert joke about inserting a lightsaber here.]

The Gecko

2011-03-24T22:44:00.003+01:00

I have two tattoos; a ying-yang over my hip bone and a garland of flowers & Egyptian eyes as my tramp stamp.

My tramp stamp is a bit higher up that the norm since low rise jeans at the time were still way higher than those around currently, plus I wanted to be able to hide it for dance. Please also note that I was part of the first wave who made tramp stamps ubiquitous. 90's grunge flannel grrrls with unlaced Doc Marten's representing, yo.

While I should actually get them touched up, I've been leaning towards getting a third one instead.

Read more »

The Weremonkey of Prati

2011-03-04T22:16:00.005+01:00

Taunt not The Weremonkey of Prati, for you are crunchy & taste good with ketchup.

Last summer found Will & I sharing a room, which is another story in and of itself. Let's just say that we would occasionally engage in somnambulistic ass-grabery, myself out of habit from 5 years of sleeping next to someone and Will probably because my laziness vis-a-vis depilation duties made his sleepy subconscious think that there was hot hirsute man-meat in bed with him.

Being summertime in Rome where AC is considered hazardous to one's health, the windows were more or less constantly open. One night when Will was out of town for the weekend, just as I was about to pass the border into Morpheus' realm I was jolted back into full wakefulness by some drunk-ass tourist screeching like a fucking monkey somewhere nearby. The hoots & screeches of this primate wannabe echoed throughout the quarter for about 30 minutes. No big deal at the time. I'm accustomed to late night drunken tourist shenanigans. Hell, I've taken part in more than my fair share.

The following night though, gave me an inkling that this might not be your average run of the mill drunken tourist, as once again just as I was nodding off, the screeching began, bouncing between the neighbourhood buildings like an acoustic super ball. When this continued for a week, I came to the brilliant conclusion that this was no tourist.

Some places have werewolves; Prati apparently has the occasional Weremonkey.
Read more »

Awesome Sauce

2011-03-04T20:41:00.000+01:00

Added to my ever expanding list of Webcomic feeds:
Romantically Apocalyptic

- Via MeFi

Introducing #1: Will

2011-03-03T18:15:00.001+01:00

The Patsy to my Edina, the Will to my Grace. ¹

He's the male version of me, only bitchier with a better wardrobe & a higher tolerance for alcohol. He's mah homeboy *throws the Dolce & Gabbana gang sign*. I am unabashedly his Roman Hag.

Read more »

The Perils of Working from Home #693

2011-02-24T19:02:00.001+01:00

While researching social media network trends using Alexa's Top 100 sites list, clicking on a website named xhamster.com

Hint #1: Has absolutely nothing to do with hamsters. Nada. Zero. Zilch.
Hint #2: It's porn.

Most. Misleading URL. Ever.

I'm still trying to play connect the dots with this one: aside from the ubiquitous 'X' in the URL I really can't figure out where the 'hamster' part comes into play.

Actually, let's just say that A) I just made a couple of inadvertent (no, really!) double entendres with that last sentence and B) I don't think I really want to know the connection as the only thing popping into my mind is the early 90's urban legend involving Richard Geer & a hamster.

*Ctrl-D* If researching Web 2.0 ego wanking leads me to actual wanking, who am I to look a gift ~~horse~~ hamster in the mouth?

Playing Catch Up, Part I

2011-02-21T17:19:00.001+01:00

My Internet connection is being a bitch today, so while I wait for this effing FTP session to finish downloading I figured I'd put up some updated info & fill in some blanks on the cast of characters.

*ahem* When we last left our heroes...

Read more »

Hope is the thing with feathers

2011-02-12T02:23:00.001+01:00

Watching the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia followed by the Egypt protests has, to make a gross understatement, been tugging at my innards. One minute my heartstrings are being pulled by the courage and bravery displayed and the next my guts would twist themselves up in knots of worry that would make an Irish sailor envious. I've visited both places. In both, the food was amazing, the scenery spectacular and the people cause the word "hospitable" to fall far short of actual reality.

Read more »

Frustrated Velociraptor: I am woman, hear me GRAR!

2011-01-31T14:46:00.002+01:00

Being a single female at 35 sucks sometimes.

Not in that Sex & the City "Oh me, oh my, will I ever land my guy?" way either. Actually I don't even want to think about S&C because the facile 4 tropes of women (with admittedly fabulous shoes) would just piss me off even more right now.

I look young for my age (thanks for the awesome genes, Ma). I have lost track of the times I have gotten the "Oh you'd better hurry up and find a man before you cant procreate any more" bullshit spew upon finding out that I am 35.

As if my uterus is the only reason for my existence and even that is worthless unless I procure my self a penis possessor to plow the field before the bloom of youth fades.

Fuck that noise. Fuck it right in the ear with a rusty chainsaw.

*deep breath*

Read more »

Wherein I Anthropomorphise Books

2011-01-20T01:11:00.002+01:00

I have always been a huge bookworm. One of my earliest memories is reading the cover of a Hallmark card out loud to my mother from the wriggly metal uncomfortableness of the grocery cart kiddie seat. It was as if a switch had been flipped and oooooooohhhhhhh look at all the words everywhere! From that point on I was a goner.

I read whatever I could get my grubby little paws on; I think at one point I might have precociously asked my kindergarten teacher if there were any more books as I'd already read all of *these* in the bookshelf. I ripped through the collection of excerpted stories stored underneath the home encyclopaedias, a set of 12 two inch thick hard-covers in various jewel tones, each a reading level higher than the last, and over the years I would frequently return to my favorites. There was the complete annotated set of Shakespeare to stumble over, and if I was really bored and out of fresh reading material, I might randomly flip through the encyclopaedias. Or the dictionary.¹

Read more »

Coldfusion SuxxOrs

2011-01-18T19:03:00.001+01:00

1995 called; it wants its crufty web application server back.

Unfortunately, I have to work with this POS due to an ongoing project. Not only do I have the unmitigated joy ¹ of having to deal with someone else's slapdash, half-arsed, Dreamweaver crapped-out "code" ² that would make a Coding for Dummies example look like NASA, CERN & MIT had a magical fairy love child, but I have to have this abomination installed on my computer for testing purposes.

Let me interject here that my computer is my baby. Being a huge nerd, I have two different OS's installed with about 12 different browsers installed. Half of those are different major versions of Internet Explorer 6-8, which only get cracked open when I need to see if how badly Bill Gates' satanic afterbirth of a browser mucks up my pretty web-standards compliant XHTML/CSS. I digress...

Having to install Coldfusion App Server reminds me of The Pain from Princess Bride: "Dear God, what is that Thing?!" Every few months I have to reinstall it when it decides it no longer wants to play nice with XAMPP. JRun, well, runs rampant every thrice blue moon, eating up memory until I kill & restart. And CFML? Puh-lease. I have no respect for any so-called language that ignores variable name case.

GRAR! HULK SMASH! *pant pant*³

Geek rant over.

¹Why yes, that is heavy sarcasm. Why do you ask?
²Picture me making finger air quotes around the word "code"
³Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I shall now commence randomly spouting "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die" for the next 3 days.

Dusting Off the Cobwebs

2011-01-08T18:31:00.002+01:00

*cough cough*

My, my, my. The echo in here ricochets off the walls, eventually drowning in a fluttery eddy of dust bunnies...

...I've probably been reading too much Neil Gaiman lately, as is my wont. Anywho...

Now that I've prettied things up a bit, let's see if I can start the blog ball rolling again. I don't think I can pick up where I left off, or at least not straight away; that will take some easing into. The salient points to bring things up to speed would be

my love affair with the Eternal City continues, having entered the metaphorical "I hate when you publicly adjust yourself, but I still love you in spite of it all" stage
Nuclear Relationship Armageddon II: Revenge of the Nuclear Relationship Armageddon happened 6 months before the supposed wedding was to occur.
Subsequently, the SO has reverted back to his former Good Omens inspired nickname: Enemy, Destroyer of Queens, Angel of Broken Hearts, Great Beast that is called Weasel, Prince of Thieving Bastards, Father of Liars, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Mindgames. Or Shithead for short

A tiger doesn't change it's stripes & fuck me gently with a chainsaw if I will ever, ever, ever again let the Polyanna, "people are fundamentally good, everyone deserves a second chance" side of my brain override my misanthropic "people suck, fuck you" inner pessimist.

We'll eventually get around to the details, but for now enough poking at recently healed scars. It's a Saturday night, I am PMSing like a motherfucker and thus am in need of alcohol & semi-acceptable Mexican food.

Alla prossima

Addendum: Just to clarify, the Year from Hell was 2009, 2010 was Purgatory. And thus I've dusted off the blog in 2011, which I hope will keep with the Divine Comedy theme and be the year that I win the effing lottery.

Fidanzato Hotness #36988*

2008-08-28T20:08:00.000+02:00

The Setup: A couple who are friends of mine leave their 1.5 yr old with us overnight, who's 110% cuteness personified. Travel cot next to our bed.

The Hotness: Using the night vision option on the video camera to see if she's sleeping ok.

*Yes, my Overly domesticated quotient just went up 50%.

Phrase #36987 That Totally Turns Me On

2008-08-27T17:39:00.004+02:00

I've bagged the groceries according to where you store them so it's easier for you to put them away.

- The SO as he's unloading bags into our elevator

So. Hot.

OCD? Me? Nope.
Overly domesticated, maybe.

Instead of watching Germany-Turkey....

2008-06-26T13:16:00.003+02:00

...we went to the hip hop recital of a friend's daughter.

It turned out to be the singular most "OMG I would have been lynched if I did that when I taught dance" experience. Leading up to the climax, we have:

- Starting over a hour late, and ending at almost midnight as a result.
- The teachers inserting themselves into 3 of the major parts. Pity - two of the students were better than them.
- A faux tango scene & classical ballet interlude. The former was another exercise in teacher spotlight hogging & the latter just made me want to scream because the poor girl had obviously not had proper training, risking injury since she was en pointe & probably shouldn't have been.
- The main teacher taking half an hour to bask in the spotlight at curtain call, thanking everybody, handing out flowers to the students and generally blabbing on and on and on and on...

The climax: Drumroll please...

The no older than 10 yo protagonist, who was promising, doing her solo to Kia's "My Neck, My Back".

Which if you don't know, features the lyrics "Lick my pussy & my crack".

You can argue that probably 99% of the audience (and probably the teachers) don't speak English or not well enough to be familiar with hip hop gutter slang, but...Holy Crap. I've still got the OMG face going on.

My Worst Fears are Proving True

2008-06-10T17:58:00.004+02:00

Cannavaro's out injured.

And Donadoni isn't fit to lick the week old dog shit from Lippi's trainers.

*crosses fingers for Friday's game and wonder to whom I should sacrifice these virgins to...*

Wanted: Stable Web Hosting

2007-12-10T16:49:00.001+01:00

I finally have my appointment at the questura to get fingerprinted & whatnot for my permesso renewal tomorrow. I was neatly informed of this via SMS, which was a pleasant "Hey, nifty!" moment, seeing as the online webportal for seeing at what point your renewal request was at has gone tits up at various times.

I should note that the tits up moments were usually panic inducing errors that said "Invalid User Number" or the like. Calling the info line during those times got one a busy signal 9 times out of ten, and I usually resorted to Googling & scanning various expat forums to see if there was news of problems. So the SMS and the corresponding entry on the webportal was cheering in the thought that maybe the tech problems were getting sorted out.

Today I was putting together all the various copies of docs that I need to take with me tomorrow. Since the registered letter informing me of the appointment has yet to arrive, my plan was to print out the webportal notification to show alongside the SMS.

Good ol' Murphy's Law: the portal has been tits up all day. And this time, tits up means TITS UP. Nothing was coming up, and a traceroute showed an unreachable destination in the Poste's servers. Oh joy.

I just now managed to pull the site up, and I've gotta laugh.

The immediate, facile snark would incorporate Microsoft (the portal is ASP), the Poste and 'recipe for disaster'. But really? I get the feeling that the massive infrastructure needed for this 'new' procedure was either poorly thought out, executed poorly, not tested enough, or all of the above. And when one of those options happens, somebody's going to be frantically patching holes 'till the cows come home. You'd almost feel sorry for whomever's doing the patching, until you think about how much money the government's tossing at tech. (article is in Italian by noted comic-cum-activist Beppe Grillo)

Surely there's enough money somewhere in there to buy a few more hard disks for the webservers, n'est pas?

Kitchen Geek

2007-07-14T15:43:00.001+02:00

One of the coolest things my mom ever did was make a family cookbook for her daughters. She printed up or scanned the handwritten index card of favorite family recipes, put a photo of the relative above the recipe, and slapped 'em into a type of photo album-cum-binder with plastic covered pages.

And today, prompted by a metafilter post about various foodstuffs, I've got another 20 bookmarks of recipes I'd like to try out. Which prompted me to search for recipe management software as the recipe folder of my bookmarks is getting unwieldy.

Recipe software recommendation have been requested numerous times on ask.metafilter. Problem is, I don't want to download and assload of free-trials to see if they that special feature I'm looking for:

Conversion between American & metric measurements.

Every time I'm cooking from a recipe, I have to hit GourmetSleuth and 'translate' each ingredient and temperature. Pain. in. the. ass. Sometimes I can 'eyeball' it, but I only do that when making stuff I know by heart, like Grandma's ragu. Anything involving baking or dough from scratch, I need measurements.

A bonus feature for this dream software would pull info from the Cooks Thesaurus - because buttermilk & cheddar cheese can be neigh impossible to find here.

So, for all five of you who still read this blog, know of any decent recipe software?

I'm not really limited to a specific OS, as I have Linux & WinXP, while the Fiancee's laptop is a Mac. But I would like to avoid the latter as I don't want to have to steal his laptop every time I want to stick in or look up a recipe.

Bush Visits Rome, Romans Respond

2007-06-10T14:10:00.002+02:00

I'm unable to link to the original photos as La Repubblica has recently changed their photo galleries to some non-standards compliant Flash ~~bullshit~~widget, hence the screenshots.

Typical Roman sayings? Ok...

And...

Loose Translation: "Oy Colombus. Couldn't you have just minded your own fucking business?"

To Frou-Frou or Not To Frou-Frou...

2007-06-06T17:30:00.001+02:00

...that is the question.

Diverting myself from work for a minute or 30, I've been looking at the wedding dress collections of a store on Corso Vittorio that always caught my eye even when I was thoroughly single and poo-pooed the idea of ever being officially hitched. The window display is always striking and the unique dresses would appeal to almost every girl's inner principessa.

Perusing the collections on the website, however, I find myself torn. Said inner principessa always loved the intricate costumes from the ballet days of yore, the yards of tulle and embroidery and what have you frou-frouery.

But the total slut side is saying, "There's no way in hell you'll be able to get a quick shag in the cloakroom while wearing a bell of tulle, darling."

Waiting for an update?

2007-03-19T14:32:00.001+01:00

So per usual, am rather busy. In addition to the usual stuff, though, I moving into some uncharted territory as well.

Yo, I'm engaged.

There was no big proposal, merely a discussion* initiated by him about desired particulars of one's dream wedding. And if I was being graded, I would have totally failed Girly Girl 101 as the only wedding-type thing I ever contemplated growing up was that I wanted to wear a tutu (complete with pointe shoes) as my wedding dress. Obviously this was from the Bunhead Years, and just seems rather idiotic now.

So discussion was made, and I knew it was really official when the next day he told me The Lads wished us well.
Read more »

Calcio: not the sporty kind

2007-01-11T15:31:00.002+01:00

Calcio:

(a) kick
Football, or soccer for us Yanks
calcium

Tap water in Rome is probably some of the best tasting water in the world. It has none of that chemical taste I associate with tap water in Texas and is highly rich in calcium, which mean my nails and hair are stronger than at any previous point in my life and grow pretty fast as well. (Or rather the former do and the latter would if I'd get over my hairdresser phobia and get regular trims.)

There's just one tiny downside:

After 8 months of unfiltered use, your hot water heater will have somewhere in the vicinity of 2.5 kilos of crystallised calcium blocking up the works.

Adding insult to injury...

2006-12-30T12:27:00.001+01:00

Bacco got sterilized the day after I left for the Dallas Hols 2006. I got back last night and discovered that the procedure apparently involved painting his butt with some blue substance that I assume was an anaesthetic or something.

Insult to injury: not only do your balls get snipped, but it looks like you were ass raped by a Smurf.

Yet Another Early Present for Me

2006-12-11T14:08:00.001+01:00

This time it's an early x-mas pressie. Lazio beat Roma 3-0 last night.

Being the vindictive bitch that I am, and seeing as how the SO & I have been sparring on a few things lately, I took an unholy and gleefully sadistic pleasure in ungraceful gloating last night. The highlight was the BG putting an AS Roma Merda sticker on the SO's sacred jar of Nutella.

Immature and childish? Yes. Do I feel somewhat better? Slightly, which means that the urge to stick him repeatedly with sharp objects has been downgraded to an urge to tie his shoelaces together and say "Neener Neener" when he falls.

Not Fair

2006-12-01T15:13:00.001+01:00

I don't usually get gadget envy, but this has me madly Googling for suppliers who ship internationally, preferably located in a country with a favourable currency-to-Euro conversion rate. (Not that I can afford it right now, but ooo a girl can dream, n'est pas?)

*drool*

The Samsung Q35. Though I usually prefer AMD to Intel processors, the SO's MacBook Pro has nicely impressed me. So we have here a Core Duo processor, about a gig of RAM, a DVD Multi drive, WiFI, Bluetooth, Firewire port, 6-in-one card reader, PCI slot, and up to 120 GB hard drive.

All in a 12.1 inch notebook that weighs under 2 kilos.

And it comes in Red.

*drools more*

Of course, it's not available in Italy or the States/Canada. That would just be too easy. Finding the red one on websites that ship internationally is difficult to say the least; UK is easiest, but pounds to Euro = wallet rape. France, Germany & Spain I can't find the red one. Looking to the Aussies now...

Bacco er mammone

2006-09-07T14:13:00.001+02:00

Bacco is a big fat mama's boy. That is the only explanation I have at my disposal to explain this...this...

...this sucking.

He sucks on my cotton shirts constantly. And as 90% of my upper wardrobe is cotton t-shirts, I've got kitty saliva wet spots on my shirt in at least three places at any given time. I'm wondering if they make kitty pacifiers.

It's only me he actively seeks to suck on; the SO only gets the sucking treatment when he's wearing his bathrobe. We actually used the sucking to get him to fall asleep the other night when he was showing no sign of tiring at the "Bite Our Feet Through the Covers" game.

I try to keep him from sucking on the obvious targets - methinks SO's getting a wee bit jealous as Bacco's constantly sucking the proverbial cotton teet every night. The routine is something along the lines of

*SLURP*SLURP*SLURP*SLURP*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*
*SLURP*SLURP*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*
*SLURP*SLURP*SLURP*SLURP*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

etc etc etc.

When he grows tired of the taste of cotton he wanders off and falls asleep in his own little corner. And so he mewls for three things only: food, play time, and sucking time.

There is so no doubt about Bacco's nationality.

Footie Fans I Live With

2006-09-06T18:00:00.001+02:00

At the flat the BG & I have taken*, we have a veritable smorgasbord of nationalities and tifosi. To wit:

Moi Lolita - Americana who roots for the Azzurri, Juve, anti-Milan, anti-Roma. I hate Roma, but I hate Milan more.
The BG - East European laziale. Growing up in a formerly communist regime tends to make one's politics lean rightwards...
the Leech - Quebecois laziale who roots for France. As far as I'm concerned, he's only Laziale because he's dating the BG. Can't prove it though.
The Leech's Best Friend - Again, Quebecois. doesn't much care for footie, but wasn't happy that France lost the WC. HA HA!
LBF's Girlie - American, also doesn't follow much footie. Will root for USA & the Azzurri though.
New Aussie Guy - dunno much about his footie preferences as he's usually out shagging some chick from work
The Sisters - also east European, interisti

Then we have the Peeps Who Can Be Found at Chez Moi Come Gametime:

The SO - Half Italian, half North African, full on romanista and obviously Azzurri supporter. Hates the French
Mr. Almost Perfect - Italian, juventino
Miss Tiny - Italian, romanista
Marco Bevecomeunaspugna - Italian, romanista (actually 90% of SO's friends are romanisti so we'll just skip on to listing the only friend of his that's not...)
Luca Fumacomeunturco - Italian, juventino

So gametime is always fun, to say the least. Forza Azzurri! *Has it really been over two years? Shit, that means SO & I have been re-seeing each other for 2.5 years (though the first year was admittedly me keeping him at ~~arm's~~dick length...

#3064 - Amore, I Can't Believe You Just Said That

2006-09-04T13:05:00.002+02:00

"Let's have baby so Bacco has someone to play with."

...

Curly put it best during my recent trip to Berlin:

"SO says some incredibly stupid things sometimes."

Two Sides to Every Coin

2006-08-14T17:17:00.002+02:00

HATE:

The SO's & my trip back to his familial home was less than my idea of a perfect vacation, stemming from one of the things I absolutely hate about him:

His ex's.

We've previously established that I will not be one of those girlfriends that insist on all past ties cut and no female friends whatsoever, despite the fact that I am fanatically jealous. In return, I expect not to be regaled with either stories about them nor spend time in their presence, unless he wishes to witness my metamorphosis into a hysterical psychotic bitch.

In the country where the familial home is, the cultural norm is to visit someone whenever the whim strikes. As the SO had loaned some money to the brother of Girl He Lost His Virginity to and Shagged for Old Times Sakes Just Over 2 Years Ago, I was fully expecting that he would see her to pick up monies owed.

I was not expecting to have to endure her presence, in front of his family & Marco Bevecomeunaspugna (who came with us), especially without warning.

Twice.

The first night she popped over I managed well enough until bedtime, at which point I gave him the Look. the Look is the one well known to males everywhere - it's the one that says "Oh, buddy did you ever fuck up and I'm thisclose to chopping our balls off now."

He just added fuel to the flame by being a prick and saying "Fine, I'll sleep in the other room tonight." Subtext: you're being an unreasonable bitch.

Read more »

I am so fucking cute. Yes I am. I'm a fucking cutie pie.

2006-07-31T15:44:00.001+02:00

Q: Have the insatiable urge to speak utter crap baby-waby tawk, but just don't want something popping out from between your legs just yet?

A: Kitten.

No name yet, though I'm seriously considering Yoda due to a certain look he gave me last night. "SO jr." is also being considered as he acts perma-stoned and gets that slitty eyed look that SO does when high.

Are you just soooo cute? Yes yous are! Widdle cutie pie yes he is.

Dear god somebody slap me.

EDIT:Though "Hey Cat" was beginning to grow on me, I've finally named the cute little bugger thanks to a suggestion from the SO.

I was considering "Dopey" (like the dwarf) or "Imshee" ("Move it!" in the SO's third mother tongue), but after the SO suggested it, we have:

Bacco - Italian for Bacchus. 'Cause he's either sleeping, drunkenly falling off something, or sleeping in a position that eventually leads to him drunkenly falling off something.

What I Did this Weekend

2006-07-17T17:20:00.001+02:00

went to the SO's cousin's wedding on Saturday, which involved:
- meeting a zillion different people, all while being introduced as "SO's future wife" courtesy of the cousin
- me getting flustered at the above and mistakenly correcting said introduction with fidanzata instead of ragazza
- an 8 course meal to die for and all the alcohol one's liver could handle
- the SO's youngest sister trying to get the bride to chuck the bouquet at my head (no bouquet throwing was done though, as the thing, though gorgeous, weighed a ton.)
- my hormones going into overdrive due to the SO's new suit. PHWOAR. *fans self just thinking about it*
- *fans self some more*
- *fans self even mo...aw, fuck it. [COMMERCIAL BREAK GOES HERE]
- the SO totally ambushing me by slow dancing to Sinatra. And singing loudly off key while doing it. And with a total semi. In that suit. Nobody else was dancing at that point in time. My face was fire engine red and speaking of fire engines, well, one with the hose pointed at my pink bits would have been handy at that point.
- [YET ANOTHER COMMERCIAL BREAK]
the SO & I broke his bed yesterday afternoon. this is not related to Saturday's events. Swear to Dog.

Pity the Beautiful game has Some Really Ugly Fans

2006-07-12T12:51:00.001+02:00

Throughout the World Cup there has been a continuous stream of greasy, diving, cheating, cattennacio-playing, undeserving, racist(?!) wop bastards comments on three of my typical lurk/occasional post sites (MeFi, MetaChat, & Sportsfilter) as well as in the English-speaking media.

I've typed up some nasty responses to said comments and then bit my tongue and closed the browser before hitting the post button. I'm just the American in Rome, and hell, why argue on the Internets.

But what with the Zizou/Matterazzi headbutt furor (neither of whom I consider saints, despite my fetish of the former and my sadness at his expulsion), the strategy of biting my tongue is proving painful.

It seems as if people, egged on by the media, willfully shut their eyes and play into their own personal confirmation biases. The aforementioned slurs on Italians, Germans as 'boring', France as 'formidable but, well, Gaelic', Spain as 'underachievers', English as 'hooligans', Brazil as the 'behemoth', Argentina forever to be mentioned along with the phrases 'Maradona' & 'hand of God', and the rest of the teams as second or third tier underdogs not worthy of too much consideration.

It's annoying. And saddening, especially on my aforementioned web lurks which are usually fairly intelligent corners of e web. Pre-Cup snark notwithstanding, can we really not get past the whole stereotyping shtick and just watch the games as they are played or must we all endure your disparaging, even racist insults in an effort to prove your flag pole is bigger than ours?

Because if it's the latter, then I guess I'll just save my breath trying to make a reasonable response to the contrary and just use small words:

HaHa. Fuck you. We won. Go peddle your cunty, insulting, racist stereotypes to someone who cares.

Damn. That last phrase has polysyllabic words. Let's try again:

HaHa. Fuck you. We won. ~~Go peddle your cunty, insulting, racist stereotypes to someone who cares.~~ Take your insults and shove them up your ass.

Anyhow, on to some thoughts on the WC in general.

Read more »

SIAMO NOI I CAMPIONI DEL MONDO

2006-07-10T17:22:00.001+02:00

The only thing that could make this photo better was if he was nude.

italy supporters kit from the Guardian

2006-06-13T16:52:00.001+02:00

Bunting, official badges, cards, and your very own referee-bribing kit.

The Guardian fell down on this one, using Lira instead of the correct Euros and forgetting the cell phone and Rolexes.

Forza Auzzurri!

You Men and Your Fucking Selective Memories

2006-06-10T17:32:00.001+02:00

Normally I'm not one to jump on the "Females are from Venus and Men are from another Galaxy Entirely" bandwagon, but I'll make an exception in this case.

SO is going to be an uncle again. And the BG's niece came over the other day with her 2 month old girl.

Cue the SO's atomic biological clock and much ribbing from the BG & flatmates.

So lying in bed the morning after Pavlov's atomic biological clock, SO once again pronounces that he wants a kid in around two years. It's in the AM and therefore my level of tact is automatically set to Zero.

We've had the Sproglings Discussion before.
We did? When?
At the Chinese restaurant.
...
We talked about marriage *and* kids.
Oh yeah. You want to be married before having kids.
*I resist the urge to use his head as an imaginary bell and say "DING DING DING! We have a winner folks!"*
What about having kids and then getting married? Like when we're 50?

The last comment is him pushing my buttons. Fucker. But he honestly didn't immediately remember the conversation. Silly me. Here I was thinking that on the subjects of Desires One Wants Out of Life, one would remember serious conversations with one's SO. Most especially when you are not the one who has to be In Gestation for Nine Fucking Months and will most likely end up with saggy tits and an ass the size of Bermuda.

Apparently not.

Apparently it's more along the line of 'Ooga Ooga, Me Want' and serious discussion form the 2nd party involved goes flying over one's pointy little noggin. Then you see something shiny and forget for a while until something triggers the 'Ooga Ooga Me Want' all over again.

Let me tell you what you can do with the Ooga Ooga, buddy...

You Might Be Eligible for "Dumb Tourist of the Week" Award If...

2006-05-31T14:28:00.001+02:00

... you can not figure out the intricacies of Rome's metro (ie underground).

Look people, I know I suffer from Tourist Fatigue and readily admit I am a misanthropic bitch 99% of the time. But if you can not determine how to use the Rome Metro, I doubt you can find your arse from your head.

It's two lines, people. Two. Linea A & Linea B, which in English means 'Line A' and 'Line B'. The clearly marked Linea A & Linea B coincide at exactly one stop - Termini.

~~Termini is also the main train station~~ Scratch that - I wouldn't want to confuse you.

If you have to ask me at the turnstiles how to get to 'Spag-na' with the fucking stops being outlined clearly before you just beyond the turnstiles, don't be surprised if I rip the shitty new yellow ticket machines off it's perch and use it to ~~brain you~~ beat the everliving shit out of you.

One can't very well brain a creature that is missing one.

This Clucky Shit Would Work a Lot Better If He Had a Uterus

2006-04-25T11:52:00.001+02:00

Grand Award Winner for the "Did You Really Say That Just Now?!" Out of Left Field comment of the year:

Amo, facciamo una famiglia?

Tone of voice: like a little boy asks their mother for a puppy
Setting: while we're playing on the PS2 a game where ramming the shit out of the other cars is the object of the game.

Ensuing Discussion: I sidestepped the question with a well placed

"Oh dear christ. Little versions of you and me?"
"If it's a boy we can name it Thomas. And then his nicknamed will be Tim."
"No honey, Tom is short for Thomas, Tim is short for Timothy. Why do you want Tim as a nickname?"
"*im, *im, and Tim"
"No fucking way."
"...yeah, you're right."

So at least we've agreed the more Rhyming Names are absolutely out of the question.

Yes, our names rhyme. Yes, it's cute enough to induce vomiting. Ironically his parents still can't remember my name at times.

My new Boss is a Total Bitch and Other Snippets from the Front

2006-04-06T14:55:00.001+02:00

The two of you that actually read Favoloso Mondo might be wondering about the latest news in this galaxy of slack that is this blog. So as I'm totally slacking today, here's a helping of quickies of news since erm, December. (Slack slack slack. Or not...)

So we've established that the Henchwoman was visiting in November. Three weeks later the majority of SO's family came to visit; his older brother for a week, and his youngest sister and father for around a month. There were times I was really thankful that I don't understand [insert language that isn't Italian or English here], namely during family arguments, and other times were I would rapidly stop wondering if they were talking about me and instead would be bored off my Keister.

We've also established that his Dad's a wee perv. There were a few times when his family slept at my place as we would have dinners there (being bigger). He perved on all of my flatmates. Subtly, but it was definitely perving.

We had to warn the girls that SO's dad was prone to nightly bathroom excursions that didn't involve A) locking the door (as he's not a generally well man and thus keeps unlocked doors for safety reasons) and B)turning on the lights. So there was a distinct possibility of my flatmates walking in on an elderly pissing perv.

Read more »

Oh Hell Fucking Yeah

2006-04-05T13:42:00.001+02:00

Or: Why I love World Cup season.

Ok, I could do without Gattuso (who I've dubbed 'Ooga Booga' as he reminds me of a cavemen; am rather surprised by the chest depilation) or Pirlo (meh), but there is my baby Cannavaro. 3 Juvis and the 2 Milani (whom I'll just cover up their faces...) = serious spank bank material.

The only thing missing to score a 10 on the Orgasmatron is Cannavaro's younger brother Paolo (who seems to be a bit more inhibited when it comes to stripping in front of the camera. Pity)

Mmm. Cannavaro sandwich. Oooo.

The Berlusconi Drinking Game

2006-02-08T13:46:00.001+01:00

Elections are in April. Berlusca's freshened up his Botox and thrown on a few more hair plugs. The following drinking game is brought to you by the fact that out of the seven or so channels that I get on either my or the SO's electronic nipple, Berlusconi will be on one of them every night.

And folks, if I have to hear the same damn rhetoric over and over until April, hell yes alcohol will become a necessity.

Take a drink every time you hear...
1. Mi consenta...
2. Derogatory comment about la sinistra
3. Comment about the thirty-mumble promises that his government has made good on
4. ~~accusation~~ crying victim that la sinistra attacks his government with insults
5. responds to accusations about changing the laws in his favour with "Well, Prodi did it too!!"
6. name drops Bush or Blair
7. parrots some Bush talking point about Iraq
8. claims that Italy is more respected & a bigger player in the International community thanks to him
9. interrupts (wimpy) questioner with cries of victimisation
10. every time he flips the 'charisma' switch to cover up the fact that he's also flipped on the 'bullshit' switch
11. blames the decline in the economy on the Euro and subsequently Prodi

I'm forgetting a lot here (probably a self-defence mechanism), but as it is I'm gonna be in an alcohol coma within the first 5 minutes of Berlusca opening his mouth...

...The Highlights of Which Included...

2006-01-11T14:09:00.001+01:00

... an off-hand comment by (an inebriated) Ma which still makes me cringe this morning.

"Marco Bevecomeunaspugna is cute. Too bad he's so young."

Realising your mother is considering hitting on your SO's best friend at your 30th birthday party: cringe inducing.

Realising said friend might be egging her on: Holy incestuous fuck, Batman.

That's just wrong somehow.

I promise...

2005-12-24T13:47:00.001+01:00

...to update soon. Suffice to say with around 75% of the SO's family here for the hols, trying to start a new business on the downlow while refraining from homicide at my current place of work, and various other crapola, I've been a bit busy.

But I have a lot of material for said eventual updates. Just the SO's family alone should be good for a month's worth.

Tanti auguri a te e tuoi!

Currently Contemplating...

2005-11-14T18:11:00.001+01:00

...that Thanksgiving in Rome this year ain't an option as everyone is paranoid about the avian flu thing. To which I say Chickenshits

...that I need to buy SO a birthday present still but am not in the mood as I have no idea what to get him and he sort of fucked me off this weekend.

See, SO & a friend of his (we'll call him Paddy the Hottie) had planned to visit another friend of theirs, Nice Austrian Boy, as a type of boys weekend party for SO's birthday. SO was then planning to go to Switzerland to visit his brother.

SO asked if I wanted to come along, to which I replied that I wasn't sure if A) I had the money & B) could get the time off. Then SO clarified - I could come to Switzerland, but not Austria.

Boys weekend - no problem. I understand I'm not invited. No big deal.

SO decided to just do Austria & put off Switzerland until January, when I would have a little more free time. But then I found Paddy the Hottie's girlfriend Ms. Piccolina was going too. And Marco Bevecomeunaspugna.

Still not invited. Still not pissed off. (Apparently Paddy couldn't bring himself to tell her it was a boys weekend. Or maybe it never was. Either way, I don't care.)

Despite saying that he wanted a quiet night before he left at the asscrack of dawn Friday morning, Thursday night saw us over at Ms. Picolina's for dinner. She was surprised to find out I wasn't coming on the trip and when she inquired why, SO replied:

Read more »

Nifty

2005-11-01T14:51:00.001+01:00

Make Your Own

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Jealousy Crisis.

2005-09-29T14:13:00.001+02:00

You might say I have jealousy issues. I say mine are not as bad as other people I have known. Take the Rebound Boy Toy for example. He would look on my cell phone to see who I called, who called me, what messages I got or sent yadda yadda yadda. He'd even freak out if I didn't call him the minute I got out of work.

Look, I know I have a huge jealousy streak but at least I try to control it.

It's not that easy to control, though, when one is dating one of Rome's bigger ex-man-whores this side of the Quirinale. And it's not easy to control when he's best friends with what seems like every single chick he's ever fucked and thusly they call a lot.

It's not that easy to control when said ex-man-whore drops comments about big huge commitments like having kids, marriage, or starting a business together but during a discussion about cheating says

Read more »

Seeso e la Città Eterna - My Life Is a Sitcom

2005-09-13T01:56:00.001+02:00

we in the apartment are fortunate to have SKY TV (satellite cable to you N. American folks). Despite this fact, Italy in general is still behind the states in terms of what programs it's airing & which seasons (notable exception being Desperate Houswives...we're only a few episodes behind. Thank god. I ♥ Eva. & co.)

Will & Grace is a program I had heard of, but never seen until SKY TV. Curly & I are hooked, probably because it's the sitcom version of us. Well, minus that whole "Curly is gay" thing. anyways...

Boys & girls, I have often facetiously compared my life to a soap opera or sitcom at times. Tonight's episode of Will & Grace took the fucking cake.

(& I swear to you I haven't downloaded episodes via Internet. Half the fun of *big booming voice* "SEASON CLIFFHANGERS" or "SWEEPS WEEK" is watching on your own boob tube in real time. Besides which I don't download that shit at work.)

It was this episode, folks. I'll excerpt it here for those of you who don't want to read through a script.

[CUT TO GRACE'S BEDROOM. GRACE AND NATHAN ARE UNDER THE COVERS MOANING...]

NATHAN: Sweetie!

GRACE: Oh, baby!

NATHAN: Oh, Grace! Marry me!

Yes boys & girls, my life is a fucking sitcom.

I would sue for copyrights or infringement or whatever bullshit the lawyer could cook up, but the fact is that:

A) SO watches Will & Grace only while we're at my place (which ain't often)
&
B) this episode's original airdate is 11/1/2001 (which is either November 1st or January 11th 2001. If it's the latter I just might have to kill myself as that would be the day after my birthday P.R.A.1 Post Relationship Armageddon 1. The cause of death would read "Self Inflicted Irony Wound")

You don't want to know how many cigarettes i've smoked tonight.

Il Patriot Act Italiano

2005-09-02T13:39:00.001+02:00

La legge n.155 del 31 luglio, la cosiddetta ‘Legge Anti-Terrorismo' è la più grande stronzata che ho mai letto.

E' una legge tutto fumo, passato dai vigliacchi incapace solo per avere qualcosa in mano per fluttuarle davanti il popolo quando gli chiediamo "Che state facendo per proteggerci dai terroristi?"

"Ecco! Abbiamo la legge anti-terrorismo! Guardate quanto siamo forte, quanto siamo bravi a proteggervi."

Stronzate. Fottutte stronzate.

Vi dirigo l'attenzione all'Articolo 7 di questa legge. Praticamente qualsiasi ditta che ha un computer collegato al internet deve avere una licenza diciamo 'Internet Café dalla questura. In più, il titolare

e' tenuto ad osservare per il monitoraggio delle operazioni dell'utente e per l'archiviazione dei relativi dati...nonche' le misure di preventiva acquisizione di dati anagrafici riportati su un documento di identità dei soggetti...

Guardate ragazzi: una legge che mostra esattamente quanto l'Italia ed il suo governo sono inconoscenti ed ignoranti di come funziona l'Internet e le tecnologie associate.

Read more »

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Hyperventilation Redux

2005-08-23T16:57:00.001+02:00

How to make me hyperventilate:

Mention that you want to be a daddy. When I ask you if your biological clock is burping again, merely smile and don't answer the question.

SO apparently likes jumping straight to the really really big life-changing relationship issues, like marriage and (God help me) kids, totally skipping over minor issues like 'commitment' & 'cohabitation'

I'm an old fashioned sort of girl. I was raised Catholic. Can we not just live in sin for a while first, then talk about marriage (Oh God. The Hives! They Itch!) and kids (You want me to force what through where & then be responsible for it for 18+ years?! Can't we just get a rabbit or a cat?)

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Nerd Porn vs. The SO

2005-08-20T17:46:00.001+02:00

So my dad finally sent me my computer parts that Middle Sis & he had purchased for my birthday/Christmas present.

(Yes, we're talking about Xmas 04. Yes, my birthday was in January. Yes, I probably should have told him to include this year's presents at the same time.)

And despite the fact that my checking account is on the broker side of being in the black, I purchased the other main parts necessary to build meself a wee monster. Nothing super h4Rdc0R3, but powerful enough for now with plenty of room to upgrade in the future.

And of course it matches my room's decor. Just for you fellow nerds:

Case
A8N-SLI Deluxe Motherboard
AMD Athlon 64 3000+ CPU (Venice core)
Kingston memroy 512mb 400MHz DDR
ATI Raedon Sapphire X300 SE 128MB DDR PCI-E TV
Maxtor DiamondMax 10 200GB Serial ATA Hard Drive
Black floppy drive
DVD Burner
CD Combo Drive
Black 17" LDC monitor

(To buy is a 500W power supply, 512MB more RAM, 5.1 speaker set, extra case fan, black eyboard & mouse set, wifi PCI card & Netgear Wifi router/firewall. And a bloody computer desk to put it all on. IKEA, unfortunately, has zilch.)

So I'm going to build my first computer. Just thinking about it makes me all fluttery & sweaty & breathless.

It's nerd porn, baby. Pure nerd porn.

Or maybe it's more like popping my nerd hardware cherry. I've swapped out hard drives & pci cards & such but I've never built a full system.

Anyway I find it strangely kinky. Yet the parts are still sitting around my room. Why?

Because the SO distracted me.

Read more »

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Things in Which Curly Takes Great Delight in Teasing Me

2005-08-19T16:02:00.001+02:00

- SO's mushy afternoon text messages
- SO's mid-afternoon telephone calls
- the fact that SO's number pops up with 3 hearts on my cell phone display (I blame Nokia)
- SO stopping by for a mid-afternoon coffee break
- SO serenading me from under the office window to get me to come out for said coffee break
- SO's real motive for stopping by for a mid-afternoon break. Hint - ain't coffee
- SO's mid-coital marriage mutterings
- the merest hint of PDA: "Get a Room!"

True. But...

2005-08-18T13:54:00.001+02:00

Salon Article: Jude the Not So Obscure:
What Jude Law's exposed manhood can teach us about straight chicks, porn, and why size really, really doesn't matter.

(sorry, you have to view a commercial before you can access content)

True. But let's not underestimate the power of a photo of a raging boner.

Look at it this way:

If a candid nekkid picture of Jude Law flaccid "reminds us of you, baby" then just think what a candid nekkid picture of Jude Law with a raging boner would do.

*fans self rapidly*

And I'm not even particularly fond of jude Law.

Sesso e la Città Eternà - Meet the Out-Laws: In Numbers

2005-08-11T13:41:00.002+02:00

Family members mercifully missing: his older brother and said brother's daughter

Number of his family members who made marriage related comments: all 4 sisters & his 9 yr old nephew

Times nephew makes reference to fare amore in front of entire family: 3

Family members who disapprove of sleeping arrangements that put us sleeping in the same room: 1 aunt

Family members who would probably videotape us sleeping together: 1 dad*

Family members I swore were glued to my side waiting for SO to either propose or procreate: 1 sister

Family members who told me SO's cock was "bigger than an African's": same sister

Read more »

Microsoft I Hate You

2005-07-11T16:14:00.001+02:00

This has been said far more eloquently by others but:

I hate you for your fucking opaque copyrighted terminology making googling a problem a vertiable nightmare.

I hate you for making me phone to to get a goddamned fucking patch to make the very expensive software we bought from you work correctly.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Sesso e la Città Eternà - The Wanda Complex

2005-06-27T16:30:00.001+02:00

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.

Read more »

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

2005-06-27T14:38:00.001+02:00

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."

Read more »

Sesso e la Città Eterna: Wheeee?

2005-06-25T13:11:00.001+02:00

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?

Read more »

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

2005-06-20T13:52:00.001+02:00

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

2005-06-08T18:36:00.001+02:00

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

Neener Neener, Habitually Late per Usual

2005-05-31T16:44:00.001+02:00

A big fat raspberry to AC Milan (& Berlusconi) after losing both the scudetto & a 3-0 lead on Liverpool, beaten by penalty kicks in the Champions League Final.

HA HA!

*wiggles nekkid bum in general direction of AC Milan Headquarters & Palazzo Chigi*

Sesso e La Città Eterna: The Metamorphosis from Shithead to SO

2005-05-13T15:46:00.001+02:00

'Allo mes amis.

Mon ami?

Anyone?

*crickets*

*more crickets*

*crickets chirp in a vaguely accusatory 'You lazy non-updating slut' tone of ~~voice~~leg*

Ok. I get it. Sheesh.

Ahem. As I was saying...

Sometime after V-Day and before the BG came home, in that period where Shithead was dropping hints like Ace Ventura's Anus on Taco Bell, we had The Talk.

Or rather, he began The Talk and I began hyperventilating.

For those of you who have never had A Talk in your lives, the topic of discussion is

The Future Together

the punctuation of which depends on your flavour of The Talk.

The Future Together.
The Future: Together!
The Future: Together?

Mine was the last variant. Basically Shithead

A) declared his love for me
B) wanted to know if the feeling was mutual because
C) if not things should end right then.

I, for the record, started hyperventilating somewhere around the word 'Love'; by point C I was trying to refrain from hysteronic hysterics. Being the astute observer and a completely evil bastard to boot, he asked me if I loved him.

Dear readers, I picked myself up by the (figurative) balls and answered honestly.
Read more »

The Pope is dead

2005-04-04T16:13:00.001+02:00

Rather late to this thread, and I have neither the time nor inclination at present to thoroughly read 300+ posts bickering about if the Pope was the Earthly Incarnate of Good or Evil.

I will also preface this by saying that, though I grew up Catholic, I have no love for the Church, nor for religions in general.

However...

The SO lives within spitting distance of San Pietro. Though neither of us believe in God/Dog/Bob/whathaveyou, Friday night we briefly stopped in Piazza San Pietro during the rosary services. I was struck by the quiet; in a country where 2 or 3 cell phones to a person is not unusual, not once in 30 minutes did I hear some tinny polyphonic tune. And I saw only one person smoking, furtively hiding his lit cig as one hides a joint.

Saturday after work, I once again made my way across town to the SO's place. We had just finished eating dinner when the news of Wojtyla's death arrived via SMS. We quickly grabbed our things and pelted towards San Pietro. Many people were actually leaving the piazza, as yet unaware that the pope had passed on.

We arrived to an unsettling quiet, punctured only by the occasional sob. The silence stretched on; saying that the entire piazza was stunned or shocked would be misleading, if only in the sense that in light of his serious health condition, death was expected. But there it was. An entire piazza of people all with suspiciously bright eyes and ruddy noses, if not with tears rolling down their cheeks. I felt vaguely ghoulish and somehow intrusive as we tiptoed our way further into the piazza.

From a small clearing behind me, a young man in his late teens/early twenties sounded a chord on his guitar, an attack on the instrument. It was an uncertain thin to do in the midst of that silence. You could sense a hesitancy yet he continued the introductory chords in the same strong manner. And then he began to sing.Allelujah, risorgerà Clear. Pure. Strong.

Read more »

TAG!

2005-02-23T18:27:00.001+01:00

TAG! - Verbal pingo-pong of the sisterly kind.

Welcome to our little web-experiment. She's gonna disown me in a week, I bet.

Mwah sis

No Place for Sibling Rivalry...

2005-02-19T18:05:00.001+01:00

...she says it better than I can.

And yes, i've always been jealous of her Aunt Betty nose, even though if memory serves correct I would ruthlessly tease her about the Betty shnoz.

I have got to stop crying at work dammit.

Who needs Valentine's Day anyway

2005-02-19T17:13:00.001+01:00

Subtitled: Eat yer hearts out ladies

Updates around these parts have been non existent due to the fact that I've been balls to the walls Busy lately (note bolded capital). And I promise to fill you in on all the ~~juicysemi-succulentkind-of-interesting~~who-the-fuck-am-I-kidding boring minutiae of my life soon.

I will leave you this little tidbit to nosh on in a fit of envy. Because I'm a bitch like that.

Yesterday, known as the Day I Finally Lost My Shit, was the culmination of the Week from Hell's Clogged Sewage System (With Extra Rats!). I was so strung out and tired and stressed that some cranky comment from Curly sent me into the bathroom where i promptly bawled my eyes out for 15 minutes.

Consequently i spent all day yesterday looking like someone gave me two shiners a few weeks back. Crying does that to me, which is one of the myriad reasons why I loathe getting my tear ducts tripped.

Read more »

He did it.

2005-02-07T16:27:00.001+01:00

I was introduced as the girlfriend last night.

Not 'friend.'
Not 'work colleague.'
Not 'Ex-girlfriend I'd originally dumped despite the fact that she's the best I've ever had in bed who has kindly given me said bed privileges back, mainly because I'm a stubborn persistent bastard.'

Girlfriend.

I am rather proud of myself.

I didn't faint.
My jaw did not flop to the ground like a Novocaine junkie.
I didn't pull a Shaynaynay-esque double take and scream "You did not just go there."
I didn't blurt out some horrendous, socially inappropriate correction like "Actually we just fuck like rabid weasels in heat."
I didn't even bat an eyelash

I did, however, blush.

Figures.

Thanks to Crack Monkey's Comment Below...

2005-01-31T13:43:00.001+01:00

...I am reminded that the running joke between Shithead & I is, in fact, a nickname of sorts.

It's Babyboy.

Now before you hurl violently, please realise this nickname is bantered about with all the seriousness of teaking Robin Williams sitting on a whoopee cushion. At a circus surrounded by Jim Carrey clones in their Ace Ventura persona. In space. With robots. And the Pope holding a pink vibrator.

I digress.

See, Curly has this wee fixation with all things Beyonce Knowles. And by wee, I mean borderline bunny boiler level obsession, except without the psychosis and bad 80's perms.

Read more »

Warning: Approaching Crossroads at Point Blank, Proceed with Extreme Caution

2005-01-29T14:32:00.001+01:00

Managed to fight off the flu and Dublin was lovely, though a bit weird in the sense that, as competitors (and I am a very,very competitive person) we did our own things during the competition yet went out together with everyone afterwards. Can't wait for the resulting gossip from that one. Not.

In the "Irritating-Yet-Cute" category, I forgot his penchant for posing me in front of various points of intrest and snapping pics. I hate having my picture taken. I'm not photogenic. And while the occasional snap is ok, posing in front of many tourist sights is so cheesy as to warrant a Ritz cracker the size of Miami. So now he has a bunch of pics where I half-heartedly smirk while trying to avoid the ol' Look-I-Have-No-Chin pose.

Little tidbits flit through my mind but the big news in town is that the night of our return to Rome, he point blank asked me what I thought about our future together.

I hate point blank questions. Especially when the flight home meant we had to be at the airport at five-fucking-o'clock and all I really wanted to do was sleep.

Point blank questions suck all forms of answers right out of my squishy grey matter. *SLUUUURP!*

That's the only thing I can say right now, as the point blank questions keep coming. *SLURP!*

What do you think about our future?
*SLURP!*

Read more »

The Perils of Swapping Bodily Fliuds

2005-01-22T15:07:00.001+01:00

subtitle: Maybe Dublin won't be that fun after all.

I think Shithead has given me the remnants of last week's stomach flu. I'm feeling distinctly pale and light headed. This morning's cappuccino had to spar a bit to stay in my stomach (I woke up feeling a bit groggy but put it down to a bad sleep). The thought of food is making me vaguely queasy.

Any wisearses out there who want to suggest that this might only be a bout of morning sickness can kindly shove it up their bums as I am also bleeding out the crotch and crampy.

I don't get sick often, but it never fails to coincide with my period. Methinks I might need some more iron or something in my diet when Aunt Flo's visit is nigh.

I'll beat Shithead to within an inch of his life for getting me sick when I have more energy.

In the meantime I'll be spouting my (almost)never-fail Getting-Sick Mantra:

"You Are Not Sick"
"You Are Not Sick"
"You Are Not Sick"
"You Are Not Sick"
"You Are Not Sick"
"You Are Not Sick"
....

The Dog Ate My HomeworkBlog

2005-01-21T14:26:00.001+01:00

Yar.

Okay, I have no idea where that came from. Apparently the PMS is entering the Pirate Mood Swing. Yar. Yar, I say.

Anyways, I apologise for the sparseness and brevity entries around these here parts, but I have yet another work trip coming up on Sunday and am still trying to wade through the backlog created by the Austria trip.

Off to Dublin this time, which is a bloody nice change from the annual Damn-It-Can't-They-Choose-Another-City London jaunt which has gone tits up. This trip should be fun because:

Read more »

Thus Spake the Henchwoman

2005-01-17T19:46:00.001+01:00

The Resident Dictator's Henchwoman aka DerMiddleSis* has fallen prey to the gaping blackhole that is blogging.

One of Us! One of Us!

Go on. Check out Tree Swinger - you know you want to.

*No officer, I haven't been in Germany nor Austria recently. Why do you ask?

Ditto the last entry's title

2005-01-15T19:19:00.001+01:00

I'm still walking funny, but for different reasons this time.

As a pressie to myself, I stayed an extra two days in a small Austrian town to attempt snowboarding.

I apparently have really bad taste in presents.

And I wouldn't call what i did on the mountainside 'snowboarding'; maybe 'buttboarding' or 'throwing-myself-down-a-mountain-boarding'.

'Twas fun, though, despite the fact large parts of my body are coloured shades heretofore unknown to mankind and it hurts to type, sit, breathe, etc.

More when I can type better.

Still Walking Funny...

2005-01-10T14:47:00.001+01:00

...and I've made out like a bandit for my birthday today. I got (more) Ikea shelves for my room, Dr. Pepper(!) and a DVD player from the work buddies, superwoman adult underoos and Dr. Pepper lipsmackers from my flatmate.

Shithead? Well he too had gotten me a DVD player (Ti ho preso un piccolo penserino...!!!) but that was quickly exchanged for a 14 inch TV/VCR combo. I'll be just the slightest bit tacky here and whinge that the TV is bright yellow, making my very red room into a subtle homage to the calcio squad I detest the most, A.S. Roma aka i giallozozzi

(Who finally got their asses soundly kicked in the Lazio/Roma derby the night of the 6th. HAHA! Best.Advanced.Birthday.Present.Evar!!!!)

Still, a Tv's a tv and I've been laughing at old videotapes of Nutcrackers past. Of course the gift of BoobTubage has been accompanied by...

...wait for it...
...I bet you'll never guess...

...Copious Amounts of Nookie. Like, duh. (My 'departure date' was moved up. Imagine that.)

Said Copious Amounts of Nookie once again followed by much discussion of What One wants from the Future and Why Don't We Start a Business Together.

Sei come una cioccolata. Ti piace a mostrare dura, ma un pò di calore e sciogli.

Someone is looking to get serious. He's even started calling me amore again.

The disturbing thing is that I respond to said nickname automatically.

Not going to think about it. Work calls, in the form of a trip to Austria where I am taking an extra two days to ~~fall on my ass repeatedly~~ attempt snowboarding.

Toodles.

La Befana e Le Petit Mort

2005-01-06T11:17:00.001+01:00

Once again it's time for la befana to leave coal for the naughty girls and boys and goodies for the good ones.

I must have been a good girl this year 'cause my stocking got stuffed but good. And I am completely fucking freaked out about it.

Shithead stopped by my place last night as his dinner plans "had been changed." Gee. Imagine that. For my next trick, I think I'll have him jump through a few flaming hoops before balancing on his head - all blindfolded, though I guess the blindfold would be a bit redundant in a certain sense.

Fast forward to the part where I'm getting my stocking stuffed, so to speak. Now le petit mort, the French term for orgasm, i have always found to be quite apt, especially when I hear the very rare, yet very entertaining stories of "I came so hard I passed out." We've already explored my talent for creating a puddle of female jism in past blog entries, and I have, on occasion, climaxed so hard that I've pissed myself (yeah. oops. TMI). But I have never had an orgasm so strong that it knocked me out cold.

Until last night.

Read more »

Zee Bitch is Back Darlins

2005-01-05T20:22:00.001+01:00

Yes yes dearies, the trip back to D-town was peachy keen even though it has resulted in exclamations of "Dahling!" being transmogrified into "Darlin!" and I still am having problems touch typing and sleeping.

Tequila was plentiful as were other alcohol treats, though the price tag on a shitty bottle of Valpolicella nearly gave me a coronary. And I ate enough Mexican food to ensure that I will be able to Dutch Oven our dear Sig. Shithead for at least another month. Ole.

Not olestra. Dear christ, I was inundated with Fat Free, Carb Free, Taste Free, Intelligence Free (but 100% all Natural Chemicals) products and tasteless produce the size of a Ethiopian child's head. Even your Evian tastes funny. What have you all done with the food?

And what the fuck are y'all doing with the clothing sizes? i know i've dropped two (Italian) sizes since living here, thanks to no food additives and no personal means of transportation apart from my feet, but there is no fucking way in hell I have dropped from a size 6 to a size 0 in Gap jeans, people.

(yes, sis, I should have exchanged the 2's for 0's instead of 1's; I forgot that jeans stretch after you've worn them for 30 minutes. Please enclose any poison in a can of Dr. Pepper. Thanks)

Oh and let me just reiterate that Delta Airlines may lick my Mexican-Food encrusted asshole for all eternity. Thanks.

And abstinence does make the heart grow fonder, or at least the pocket salami grow bigger as multiple orgasms were promptly induced by Shithead a mere few hours after my return.

Read more »

Back in the USSRUSA

2004-12-17T01:07:00.001+01:00

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 ~~customer~~former 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.

Read more »