October 22nd, 2005

Stella Gets Her Groove On


We head out tonight in all innocence to simply get a few pints at Fitzpatrick's Irish Pub. Then, while we are there Miss Darling sends us a text message telling us that it is the birthday of Cute Scottish Babe (wife of Lurch, who is son of People Who Own The Bar.)

We arrive at this bar to pound glasses of red wine (if you are Rome Girl) and many, many pints (if you are the Drunken Expat Writer.)

At the bar is not only Miss Darling, but both the Lucious Lipstick Lesbians, the wife of the Dominant Gangster Bartender, three bisexual girls (one of whom asks me if she can try to eat Rome Girl) and of course Cute Scottish Babe.

During this whole thing various random people say "You know, we all read your blog."

Much too soon into this the lights come up and the bar closes so we all end up at The Fizz (the worst bar in the world, read the previous entry) and Rome Girl then buys 20 shots for the 12 of us.

Those shots go quickly, so she buys another 20.

Then the other girls buy another 60 shots.

By the time we have finished them we have been at the Fizz for less than an hour but done more than 100 shots. At this point, Rome Girl says, "I'm drunk. I need to go home."


I take her home and the entire time she keeps saying "I'm sorry."

I don't get it.

What could she possibly be sorry for?

The point of doing 100-plus shots with your friends in less than an hour is to be drunk. So, she's drunk.

And, I love her.


P.S. You can read her version of events at incuidicetutto

Pissing Contest

Trying to walk to Fitzpatrick's tonight my neighbor walks up and decides to confront me:

"So, you want to break my legs?"

"You read the blog, what do you think?"

"You got something you want to say to me?"

No, I really don't. Since you obviously read the blog, what more can I say? If you think that my goal in life is to get my ass kicked by red necked bullies, then you are mistaken. Though, since you have now requested more abuse, here we go:

"You hillbilly, fucktard. The blog says it's a work of fiction and there are eight apartments in this builiding. If my profile reminds you of yourself, that says much more about you than it does about me."

"Actually I had something to say to you the 50 times I knocked on your door so I could politely ask you to turn your music down. Since you and your friends responded with curse words and threats, why don't you just fuck off?"

"How hard does your dick get when you intimidate 80 year old women and middle aged men half your size?"

"When stealing from your employer it's a good idea not to brag about it loudly so that friends of your employer can hear you."

Part of me wants this guy to punch me so I can get him charged with assualt and deported. Part of me wants him to threaten and/or try to intimidate me again so I can feel justified going to the bar owners and getting him fired.

Of course, what he will do is play his music really loud for a couple nights and feel like he has a really big dick for doing so.

C'est la vie.