Dag Nabbit. It's 4 thirty-something am and I can't fall asleep to save my twisted soul. Still in Italy. Still have jet lag. Wah! So I'm just going to blather away here until I fall asleep. To no one. Except maybe it's time I should introduce my yay! new website, now with more boring and added blah because I don't really care if you like it or how it looks I really just need an outlet for my aforementioned (very) twisted soul and can't be bothered with anything more than this type and click and voila there you have it stuff. I know it's ugly but it has a good personality so try to see past it's cosmetic flaws. Okeedokee. Anyway. So, Italy. What really blows (besides this slow-ass excuse for an Internet connection and also, umm, jet lag) is that the stamp they used to stamp my brand spanking new passport was so weak you can hardly see it. I'm totally bothered that I didn't notice at the time and demand a re-stamp. But I was so worried that I was going to be arrested or detained or something because my license is suspended (three times)(and there's a warrant for my arrest)(and I haven't done a damn thing about it because, well, for no good reason. shut up. i am lazy and deserve to be jailed for my horrid, horrible crimes.) that I was paying more attention to what happened on the computer screen when they scanned my passport than the lack of stampage. I'm still concerned that they're going to get me on the way back. I suppose if they do, then I will at least have a good, interesting story to tell about how I was thrown into jail. A Million Little Traffic Infractions. Which still wouldn't make up for the bastard who didn't stamp my passport. Bastard. In some ways it's lovely: in a metaphorical sense ... the world is my oyster, it's only the beginning, blahbbity. blah. I'm going to try to get another one on the way out. One for me. One for Brett, whether he likes it or not. We both have brand spanking new passports, you know. It's lovely. The two of us. He's sleeping so peacefully, snoring right now. Bastard.
Ok, but now. We must discuss things which do not blow in Italy. Umm: the damned doppio espressos which are probably partially to blame for my sleeplessness. I'm not fond of milk because it makes my throat all flemmy and when I go to talk it sounds disgusting because I have to first clear my mucus-clogged throat. One AM Venti Latte and I'm at my maximum. See, with just straight espresso you avoid all that. Which is how it should be. Yay for Italy.
Also. The Romance. Love is in the air. You can just feel it. It makes me want to skip. Want to? I do. It's very embarrassing. But, I can't help it! The Love! It's in the air!
Other things that are in the air? my breath. Which is something I haven't actually seen lately. It's refreshing. (Now that I have a jacket.) It's like, "Hello, breath. Pleasant to be seeing you again. Last time we saw each other, face-to-face was back in oh, Utah. Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, now we're in Europe, isn't it lovely? I use the word lovely too much. Let's think of alternatives: bewitching, lovesome, comely, delectable, archangelic, rapturous..." and the conversation goes on, but I don't want to bore you. The reader. Which currently, is myself and myself only. So, hi self! Sorry to be a bore, I wouldn't want to put you to sleep. Yes I would! HA! That would be lovely splendid.
Also: before we left, I got a book called "How to learn Italian in Ten Minutes." It had two full pages of stickers which I stuck all over everything. (the title is misleading by the way, because it took waaaay more than ten minutes just to get the cat sticker to stick on the cat's collar.) and also! a few pages of Italiano flashcards which you cut out and oh, I suppose practice with at say, home, in your hotel room, whatever. I prefer to take them to dinner. And that truly does not blow. You should see the delighted looks on peoples faces as I quiz Brett. It's very funny/sweet ...the pretentious little Florentines set their pretentiousness aside and correct our accents which I don't know if they realize I accentuate just to amuse myself. ha! Fools. But I mean, flashcards? at the dinner table? Amidst hoity-toits of every shape and size, and me there sounding each word out with a particularly absurd accent. I love it.
The little kind of, logo for Florence is a Black Rooster. Love that. The streets are old. Very old. Love them. The people are a little bit ugly. Especially the women. Looove that. Feel so preeettyy!! The toilet flush is no rinky-dink water-conservation operation, it's fantastic. So powerful. Like, Wham! Take! That! Love it. And, actually, I'm not this shallow, but Italy is so rapturous. enchanting. unbelievably beautiful. I can't put it into words outside of ridiculous synonyms for lovely. So, some photos for you. Which, seriously, is again, me and dually effective because it completes this post better than I could with words and also the Internet connection? ridiculous. so slow. If this doesn't put me to sleep, well than, I don't know what will. It's almost time for Brett to get up anyway. So I will play with the toilet flusher until it wakes him up. Brilliant. Yay!
