idk

look mom its the vatican

vomit water art

the pantheon, there's two dead kings and a queen in there

these (what are they) are everywhere

a pinocchio/wood figurine shop i found, it's like disneyland but with no rides music ice cream or fun

wow she's beauty and she's grace

Hey there my little ramen noodles,

Things are on the up-and-down over here in spaghetti land.  After what feels like one hundred days of social abstinence, I took a break from talking to myself in the shower and making kissy lips at my pillows to go out to the zoo on Saturday with an au pair I met via Facebook.  I was hoping to see that all the animals lived on a diet of prosciutto and mozzarella, were mama’s boys, and had dark hair with olive skin.  But as it turns out, zoo animals don’t vary much from country to country.  Hippos around the world shit where they sleep.

Speaking of monkeys that eat each other’s back hair until they bleed, I went to a bar called the Drunken Ship to try some Italian beer.   I was actually having a fairly good time until born-and-raised-in-Rome Marco made a habit of placing his hand on my ass.   Like any strong and self-assured woman I jumped snorted and wormed my way to the bathroom, where I played Snood on my cell phone until my battery died.

Although I have yet to meet and marry my italian billionaire dreamboat man, I've finally got a handle on my work situation.  I mentioned before that I’m a nanny, a sarcastic Marry Poppins without the awesome magic powers.  Monday through Friday I’m responsible for a little boy named Edoardo, whose favorite activities are asking for mom and screaming his own name on repeat.  I ran into some issues earlier this week when I found myself working too many hours.  I was overwhelmed and frustrated and I couldn’t fix the television because there are literally more remotes than couch cushions and Edoardo wouldn't eat his cheese without Booboo from BabyTV on and I cooked pasta in the microwave because the stove kept clicking and I forgot to put little man's pajamas on before he ate so now his beige cashmere sweater sleeves are dip-died in ragu sauce and it took me over an hour to clean up after dinner because two year olds don’t have hands that work and how do you unclog Kinder chocolate from a sink drain?

After sobbing to my mother over Skype, I wiped the drool off my keyboard and emailed my host mom, insisting that we establish some sort of work schedule.  As it turns out, not being an introverted anxiety-ridden yuppie and just telling someone about your concerns makes change.  The past few days my schedule has completely opened up.  Instead of biting my fingernails and pacing around my bathroom, I’ve now had time during the day to trip over cobblestones in the park, stare at crumbling architecture, and shampoo when I shower.  Dreams do come true.

With my new happy peppy positivity, last night I decided to meet up with another au pair I found online because I’m queen of the internet. We spent the night drinking red wine from a coke bottle, peeing behind poorly parked Fiats and running around Rome in the rain looking for clubs open past 2 AM.  After watching a Brit Pop Rock band sing a beautiful ballad entitled “Just Fuck Off” twice, we found ourselves at a gay club that had been booked for a 14 year old’s private party.  Shout out to our boy Maurizio, happy birthday buddy!  The night ended in me sitting in a fluorescent-lit bus at a stop in front of the Monumento di Vittorio Emanuele II for 35 minutes alone, waiting for my bus driver to come to after falling asleep at the wheel.   I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.  Also I didn’t know how to say, “It’s 3 AM and you're drooling on the horn of a public bus when was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?” in Italian.

Ugh,

Kay

P.S. here he is look