Saturday night was fun.
My flat mate who hadn’t gone elsewhere for the weekend asked me if I’d like to have dinner with him and his 3 female friends. After a slight pause I said,
“Are they good looking?”
He replied “molto”.
So my mood was lifted up slightly by the arrival at 9pm of a trio of gorgeous Pisan (adj?) ladies in expensive clothes who cracked open 2 bottles of white wine BUT being Italian didn’t guzzle the contents and were content to merely sip the exquisite nectar and savour the bouquet as opposed to getting rat arsed and make it easier for me to cop with one of them.
We took a car ride to Trastevere and even at midnight it was packed full of heaving, well dressed Romans plus the odd American girl, drunk and attempting to sit on the kerb. A beer costs over four Euros a bottle and the queue for the bog was about 10 minutes. One of the girls bought a Long Island thingy to drink and it cost 7 Euros. I looked at the yellow liquid in disbelief and couldn’t help myself from blurting out “7 EUROS. I CAN GET BLOWN FOR THAT!!!”.
Italians are much better at queuing than they were 10 years ago when I was last in this fair city. It’s not so much a fixed line as an advisory suggestion and after being kindly offered pole position by a lady with a trolley crammed to the brim, when she saw me wielding only bread and milk I was both amused and pissed off by the crafty old git who walked up to her and convinced her that the symbol of a wheelchair above till 14 was to give elderly old farts priority of service. (it is in fact merely to illustrate that the passageway between 13 and 14 is wider than normal). He had a walking stick he wasn’t actually using and as soon as he’d got her space he fucked off into the canteen and left his daughter and grandchild to sort out paying and bagging. I’d have told him to go fuck himself but it was still fairly clever of the coffin dodging old bastard.
The US elections are a couple of days away and I just hope to Christ that Obama gets it as the 51st state won’t be able to cope with not only a Prime Minister no one elected but a President about to pop his clogs and leave his facist, bullying, slut rearing, gun toting, anti-abortion spouting Vice Prez to become the first 1st Lady.
I will be getting drunk either way.
Saturday night’s tickly cough developed into a full blown snot storm by about midnight and I was rubbing my schnozz red raw on fazzoletti and guzzling pineapple juice (hey, they were out of Lemsip) while wallowing in self pity and trying to get to sleep in spite of the aching jaw, bunged up hooter and a cough so nasty that a horse would have been shot for making noises like that.
Got virtually no sleep and when I finally heaved my reluctant carcass off the mattress at 9.30am they floor was littered with soggy Kleenex and I was contemplating genocide.
Took a stroll to the school and was ectoplasming snot every 20 yards onto the pavement to save myself looking like one of those kids that has a permanently shiny upper lip.
Felt like 4 types of shite by the time I got to the lesson and 15 giggling 13 to 16 year olds really wasn’t conducive to restftul recuperation. Still, we had a good lesson all in and they enlightened me to the finer points of exactly when is the correct time to eat one’s dinner (between 8 and 9pm, they think British 6 o’clock stuff is just being silly).
Trying to find a wi-fi spot to get onto the Net with proved difficult as the hot zones I found a few days ago appear to be a smidgen tempermental and were either being shy or only showing their ankles when I tried to piggy back.
I managed to put together a video of my fun summer. The thing about most PCs now, even laptops is that they are chock full of useful software most of us never use and Windows Movie Maker was a cherry popper for me. After about 6 hours of splicing photos and videos from my hols in Greece, India, Moldova and now Rome together I slapped Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name" over the top (always wanted my life played out to a Bond theme). Uploading the bastard was another thing as it took 2 days to find a powerful enough signal. Still, it seems to be popular with the pals I made from June to October and the good thing about seeing three second bursts of your life put to guitar based rock is that you completely lose any self pity from when the footage was actually shot and simply revel in the good times represented on the screen. I can see looking at this that I've changed in 5 months but how far is quite staggering.
A big thank you to everyone I met this summer that managed to help restore my faith in human nature. Youknow who you are.
Still, next year I'll be muscle bound with more tattoos and long hair so can't wait to film that load.
Got a new lesson this week with a boy who was supposed to be 6 but turned out to be nearly 8 so my colouring books and alphabet sheets didn't go down a storm with young Umberto who proudly told me just how much he loves Parma football club and asked me in clear English "do you want me to write my name the English or Italian way?". Still, a nice kid who sat still patiently for 90 minutes and only got all shy and annoying when his mum turned up to collect him.
The election result shouldn't have kept me awake but being a member of the 51st State of America (i.e. England) means that whoever gets it is the Prime Minister's boss and there won't really be a "Love Actually" moment, not ever. So I had a nightmare on Monday that I was sat between Macain and Obama and Obama had lost. He was maintaining dignity and smiling but his eyes betrayed the hurt and Macain was gloating slyly. Ronald Reagan was sat at the table and I said "not another 8 years of Bush he was even worse than YOU" pointing at Reagan who blanched and Macain put his arm round my neck and squeezed as if joshing but too hard and it hurt.
So, glad I was that the old fart lost and we have a President that seems decent and to want to change the world not rape it. On Facebook lots of my Yank friends were saying they are now proud to be American again. Jesus! Then again, I have yet to meet anyone who actually voted for Bush. Such is the world.
James Bond is finally a fearsome assassin since Daniel Craig took the role and no longer resembles an aging Armani model that the agency can't buy out of the contract. With the exception of Sean Connery, none of them looked like they could hold their own in the mill and from Lazenby to Brosnan we had a procession of pretty boys that ponsed about the screen in bespoke tailoring bedding loads of unfairly gorgeous birds without catching the clap.
Now we have a muscle clad, boxer faced, Krav Maga trained bag of misery that is basically a slightly older Jason Bourne and just as much fun. Quantum of Solace is being shown in the original language down the Warner Village and I even managed to blag a student card meaning it's now only 4 Euros per visit instead of 7.50. It was in the original language so Judi Dench's posh dulcet tones were still funny without being overdubbed by some woman from Florence.
The theme tune however was utterly awful and Alicia Keys should be birched for that load of bollocks. What kind of twat puts a rap song on a Bond film? Still, wasn't quite as bad as "All Time High" or A-Ha's dismal "Living Daylights".
Something that cracks me up though is that the most vicious brawl involving a pair of nail scissors and holding they guy down until he bleeds out and dies with his eyes open is fine....BUT Bond in bed shagging has to have the tits covered up
Life oh, Life.
My previous employers have done an internal investigation and found no evidence of bullying or disability discrimination and after looking at my file and interviewing senior management have concluded that I was treated fairly at all times.
WELL YOU'RE NOT BLOODY LIKELY TO ARE YOU YOU BUNCH OF MORONS!
It's not like the people I'm complaining about would have written down "today we bullied Lance Manley and treated him unfairly even though we know it's not his fault he can't do physical stuff due to a slipped disc". I've no doubt that the files state the utter niceness and lovely fluffiness they treated me to while constructively dismissing me from a job I fought tooth and nail to get and to hold on to.
I was proud of myself today for travelling to Decathlon on the other side of the city to buy a 5 Euro rucksack to alleviate my back problems from using a cycle courier bag which compresses my spine in one place only. Then I blew it by buggering off to the supermarket and spending 20 Euros on shopping including fresh pasta and chocolate.
Anyone fancy a holiday in Rome? It would help if you're female, attractive and want to sleep with me. Any takers get in touch.