BFTLOGMAN (part II)

St. Peter's basilica... mmm... so pretty. I just want to kiss it.


Granted I know absolutely nothing about art, but of the thousands of pieces that we saw this was my favorite. It's called "The Rape of the Sabine Women" and I have no idea why I love it so. It could be a complex. We just don't know.



Tuscany and its grapes.



If I was my sister, this is the picture that I would want people to remember me by.



Of all the penis I saw in Italy (and there was quite a bit) this was my favorite.

Back from the land of greasy men and Nutella

Italy that is. Italia if you want to be a dumbass and pretend like you're a local and are "in the know". All in all, 'twas a decent trip. I'm not dead; that's always a plus.

Yup... *twiddles thumbs*... oh, what! blog about the trip? Well that's just silly. Nonsense. Blargin even!... which isn't actually a word now that I think about it. I suppose I could. And if you don't want to hear about it, just skip the next 3 paragraphs.

We spent the first 5 days in Rome. Or "Roma", as I like to call it. Actually, I don't think I ever called it that. All of my studying and ambitious attempts at conquering the Italian language were kind of lost when I realized that I don't actually possess the "nads" to speak in front of actual Italians. Because I'm a puss. And hate being judged. Right, Rome. The city was lovely. Not for its architecture or subtle antiquity, but more because it has a story. The Tiber River and the teets of wolves and then that whole Roman Empire thing and then... all the other crap that happened after. Mussolini! Anyway... we did probably... 90% of the stereotypical tourist "must-do's": the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the colloseum, and the Pantheon. Most of them involved massive massive queue-age and hoards of tourists rubbing up against you and getting in the way of your picture-taking. The only exception was St. Peter's basilica. We got there at seven in the morning and there was no one, only bubbly little nuns shuffling to and fro. It was so big and beautiful. All you can really do when you walk in is marvel at the detail and years and years of toil and sweat that went into the thing. It even felt... kind of... holy. Makes you wish that you were religious.

And then we went to Tuscany for the next 8 days. There was much wine and cheese and thinly cut slices of pork to be had. Of course we stopped by Pisa for that crazy tower of theirs. The tower really wasn't so great as the spectacle of hundreds of people aligning themselves for the classic "pushing the tower" picture... which of course we did too. Then onto Florence... which would have been better if I had actually taken the time to learn the history behind it. But I didn't. Saw David in la Piazza della Signoria and then saw him again (the original) in a museum and then saw him againon top of some random hill. Crazy Florentines really like that statue. After much consideration, I've decided that I like his pubes more than his nipples. Even though perfect geometric nipples that slightly resembles pieces to this board game that I used to play as a child are pretty cool, a flowing pubic mane kicks ass. So much ass. More ass than you could fit in a wheelbarrow. A big wheelbarrow.

Ice cream, pizza, Nutella, boob walls, harrassment from drunken men in alleyways, Hemingway, accordian players, many an artistic penis, and beggars of every shape and size. That pretty much sums it up. There was no need for actually sentences and explanations. Superfluous.

I'm home again... just in case anyone cared. Give me a ring or a poke or a nudge or just show up at my house, kick me in the shin, and then scamper away giggling... if you want to.

"Sexy sexy made up of plexi disasters..."

Yeah, I listen to Jack Johnson. I'm not going to lie; I hold a special place in my heart for mellow, acoustic, "let's all just smoke a joint and be merry" songs. They make me want to dance... naked... in a public area.

Sooo... went to the Brazosport Museum of Natural Science, which is a rather disappointing place considering about 50% of it is shells. A shit load of shells of varying shape and size kind of just... sitting there... not particularly shiny... just shelly. Anyway, so I'm pretty sure I found a some ancient Indian statue of a guy getting a hand job, which totally made my day 112% better. And to think, little conservative LJ has had really really soft-core porn right under their noses this entire time. It makes me want to chuckle... but only smelly old men with twinkling eyes chuckle, and unfortunately I do not have this classification... yet. And then Oskar and I played with the plastic dinosaurs... como niños.

Six more days until Italy!!! *groan* I really should brush up on my Italian... and by "brush up" I mean "learn the basic components of the language". Actually, pretending to speak spanish for seven years makes it a little easier. I don't sound like a complete hick when I speak... unlike my father, who will surely get us all shanked by a mob of sexy/pissed Italians. I talked to my mom about drugging myself before I get on the plane. Her suggestion: Tylenol PM. Damn, my family is hard core.

I pulled the Windsor Pilates DVD out of... somewhere obscure today. I haven't watched it in six months or so and it was only today that I realized I had created personalities and backstories for all the "demonstrators" on the DVD. I don't know which is more impressive, the fact that I managed to create depth and dimension from five people rolling around on the floor in spandex or that I did it all subconciously. I really should get out more.

The official planning of movie night starts tomorrow. Let the awkward phone calls commence!

Yup...

Even though I have both a Live Journal account and Myspace, I've decided to start posting here. Blogger feels so... old school... vintage, if you will.

I feel like I kind of dropped off the face of the earth for like... 2 months. I don't post anything on the internet anymore and I really don't hang out with friends very much. But at the same time, I'm ok with that. Maybe I'll just stay off the face of the earth until I get back from Italy. By that time I'll be so sick of my parents and hungry for intelligent conversation that I'll slide right back into my little "social butterfly" self.

Speaking of Italy... I'll be going there for two weeks... to Tuscany and Rome to be specific. And I really don't want to. There's the matter of actually getting over there... airplanes... *shudder*. I always have these daydream/premonitions a week before I have to go anywhere on a plane that something will go horribly wrong and I'm going to end up dying in a horrible mass of flames and jet fuel with people screaming all around me and my sister clawing at my face (for some reason) and lights flickering and shit. So if anyone knows a good sedative, 'twould be much appreciated.

Of course when we do get to Italy, there's the whole family thing. Four people who don't really like each other very much crammed into small European spaces. Judging by the "England Experience" two years ago, this isn't going to be very fun. Thank God this is going to be the last trip for a while.

I'm proposing a weekly movie night. Probably on Thursday's, probably at my house, sometime at night. We have about ten movies on the Shanghai list that need to be seen. Maybe we'll do that this week. I don't know. I'll figure it out.

And that's all... for now.