Tuesday, June 4, 2013

who's synched periods with me be honest

Now that I know that I'm leaving I'm finally allowing myself to admit to myself how much Italy blows. Like first of all people are so rude like the other day I went out and a waitress spilled a full glass of red wine all over my hair and my (faux) fur coat and my bag and my outfit and my shoes and I didn't even yell at her because I'm #civilized but she still made me pay full price and didn't even offer me a napkin or to cover my dry-cleaning bill? UGh. So today I went to get that dry cleaning done and the lady kept saying stuff like "I don't know what to do with this fabric so I can't guarantee that it won't get ruined" and I'm like "what do you mean you don't know" and she's like "well you cut off the care instructions" and I'm like "so" and she's like "I need them" and I'm like "how dare you say that to me." 

Secondly, my gym is basically hell on earth (or below earth because it's actually in a basement) because they don't have personal TVs for each set of equipment like first world countries do so instead they just turn up the [one] television set volume like way up and meanwhile turn the radio volume way up and meanwhile leave doors open to the aerobics classes (bc we don't have AC or pilates) so everyone can hear that music (JLO ft Pitt Bull) playing way up so the only way to even be able to listen to your own music or yourself thinking or yourself counting how many times you've pushed your thighs together with that leg exercise thingy is via just staying home. 

Thirdly the men here are terrible like Saturday I held that lecture for WIRED and all the grandpas were leaving the room probably because they've never heard a woman speak in public before.

Most of all, I'm tired of sounding like an extra from "The Godfather: Balkan Edition" whenever I order a pizza talk.

1 comment:

  1. Please don't leave.
    Despite all the haters, Italy will be poorer without you.