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.
Showing posts with label Marco Bevecomeunaspugna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marco Bevecomeunaspugna. Show all posts
24 March 2011
26 June 2008
Instead of watching Germany-Turkey....
...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.
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.
06 September 2006
Footie Fans I Live With
At the flat the BG & I have taken*, we have a veritable smorgasbord of nationalities and tifosi. To wit:
Then we have the Peeps Who Can Be Found at Chez Moi Come Gametime:
arm'sdick length...
- 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
14 August 2006
Two Sides to Every Coin
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.
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.
11 January 2006
...The Highlights of Which Included...
... an off-hand comment by (an inebriated) Ma which still makes me cringe this morning.
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.
"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.
14 November 2005
Currently Contemplating...
...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:
...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:
27 June 2005
Sesso e la Città Eternà - The Wanda Complex
Or why my concentration is shot to shit this afternoon & I'm actually doing 2 updates to my blog in one day.
I've covered my predilection for foreign tongues (and you can take that phrase anyway you like) before.
The SO called me about 30 minutes ago. Curly & my co-worker the lovely English Rose where in the office with me.
"Amore look out the window."
There's SO, sitting astride his motorcycle in those jeans that I had spent all morning trying to forget. Curly smelled the blood in the water the minute the phone rang.
*high falsetto* "Ciao amore. Come home so we can have a mid-afternoon quickie"
"He's outside, dork. We're grabbing something to drink at the bar across the street. And I can't go have a quickie, I'm working."
"Uh-huh. Sure."
So we go make idle chitchat over a cold beverage while I try not to stare at his crotch & he blatantly stares at my tits, which tend to hover on the verge of Janet Jacksonism every time I wear the top I put on this morning. The topic of 'underwears' come up also, probably because a few days ago I mentioned that i want to rip his off every time he says it.
Evil bastard.
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.
20 June 2005
Sesso e La Città Eterna: Mid-Coital Muttering Deja Vu
I fondly remember my full on freak out over the SO's mid-coital Declaration of Luuuuv. I had naturally asked Curly for the male point of view regarding Mid-Coital Mutterings.
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:
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.
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.
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.
"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.
05 January 2005
Zee Bitch is Back Darlins
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.
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.
08 December 2004
Sesso e la Città Eternà - You Fellas are so Cute When Marking Your Territory
Really. I get this little mental image of y'all lifting your leg and pissing a boundary around the object in question and growling in that way which means "Cross that line and you'll be fertilizer, bub."
Object in question this time being moi.
An old Aussie friend of mine is visiting and staying at my place for a week until his SO arrives, at which point he moves into a hotel. Long ago he acquired the nickname Elephantium Maximus due to a rather puerile, under-the-influence night back before Shithead and I started dating. I had shagged Elephantium Maximus one drunken night before this story starts (which in itself is a story best saved for another time). I digress...
Object in question this time being moi.
An old Aussie friend of mine is visiting and staying at my place for a week until his SO arrives, at which point he moves into a hotel. Long ago he acquired the nickname Elephantium Maximus due to a rather puerile, under-the-influence night back before Shithead and I started dating. I had shagged Elephantium Maximus one drunken night before this story starts (which in itself is a story best saved for another time). I digress...
02 December 2004
Sesso e la Città Eternà - Shithead Goes Fishing
I'd like to say that things have been rather quiet without BG around, but that would be a patent falsehood as I've been dealing with everything from
- a shower leaking into the bakery below our flat (Curly is no longer allowed to use power tools in our flat)
to
-the Noisy Doorwoman Bitch continuously commenting on the number of 'strange people' coming out of our flat.(They're our friends and SO's, bitch. Unlike you, we are young, beautiful and get laid on a semi-regular basis.)
to
- some dumbshit that BG had rented her room out to for a month of her absence turning out to be a complete pain in the ass (She now owes me close to 300€ and that's not counting this month's rent. Color me pissed.)
Plus I have a veritable assload of work to get done before I leave for Dallas the 14th and I have no fucking desire to do any of it (hence the blog post)
Quiet? No.
Thanksgiving was good. I got recognition for the divine cooking goddess I am (though I've just about run out of creative leftover turkey recipes) and mass amounts of wine were consumed; unfortunately we didn't get a chance to piss off the Noisy Doorwoman Bitch as she was out of town that day. Pity, that.
- a shower leaking into the bakery below our flat (Curly is no longer allowed to use power tools in our flat)
to
-the Noisy Doorwoman Bitch continuously commenting on the number of 'strange people' coming out of our flat.(They're our friends and SO's, bitch. Unlike you, we are young, beautiful and get laid on a semi-regular basis.)
to
- some dumbshit that BG had rented her room out to for a month of her absence turning out to be a complete pain in the ass (She now owes me close to 300€ and that's not counting this month's rent. Color me pissed.)
Plus I have a veritable assload of work to get done before I leave for Dallas the 14th and I have no fucking desire to do any of it (hence the blog post)
Quiet? No.
Thanksgiving was good. I got recognition for the divine cooking goddess I am (though I've just about run out of creative leftover turkey recipes) and mass amounts of wine were consumed; unfortunately we didn't get a chance to piss off the Noisy Doorwoman Bitch as she was out of town that day. Pity, that.
28 September 2004
Sesso e la Città Eternà - Welcome to the Passive Aggressive Voices in my Head
Around the end of August I had been so busy with work and the flat that I really hadn't given Shithead much thought. Plus right around that time he was trying to play some "maybe I'll see you tonight,
maybe i won't" game; I told him it was obvious we were both really
really busy and, since I had plans to take a few days off for holidays, I'd call him....
*checked Daily Planner*
*Note 1: Be a Bitch*
*Note 2: See above*
....at some point in September. Cause A) I can't be arsed with head games right now and B) well, it was on my agenda.
Fast forward two weeks later at 11 pm on a Sunday night: BG and I took our friend Almost Perfect Man to our favorite Chinese spot as he spent a large part of the day putting together our armoires. We head to a table upstairs and lo and behold there's Shithead with some chick. I pointedly ignored him; this is my default reaction when it comes to voices arguing in my head.
"He's sleeping with her."
"He's not."
"Is too."
"No way. She's ugly."
"Yes way. She's breathing."
"But we go out to dinner with Curly and other male friends without batting an eyelash."
"Yes, but we aren't named 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 aka Shithead."
(At this point the voices each say "You have a point" and promptly switch stances. Help.)
maybe i won't" game; I told him it was obvious we were both really
really busy and, since I had plans to take a few days off for holidays, I'd call him....
*checked Daily Planner*
*Note 1: Be a Bitch*
*Note 2: See above*
....at some point in September. Cause A) I can't be arsed with head games right now and B) well, it was on my agenda.
Fast forward two weeks later at 11 pm on a Sunday night: BG and I took our friend Almost Perfect Man to our favorite Chinese spot as he spent a large part of the day putting together our armoires. We head to a table upstairs and lo and behold there's Shithead with some chick. I pointedly ignored him; this is my default reaction when it comes to voices arguing in my head.
"He's sleeping with her."
"He's not."
"Is too."
"No way. She's ugly."
"Yes way. She's breathing."
"But we go out to dinner with Curly and other male friends without batting an eyelash."
"Yes, but we aren't named 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 aka Shithead."
(At this point the voices each say "You have a point" and promptly switch stances. Help.)
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