I’m in love. L.O.V.E. The Real Thing, Reader.
I expected it to be cheesy and overdone, I guess I thought I’d seen it all since I’ve seen it in Vegas.
But when I stepped out of the train station and got my first glimpse of Venice, it was love at first sight.
I arrived as dusk was falling, and believe you me, that is the time for your first impression of Venice. The lights are just starting to twinkle on the water.
So not like Vegas at all.
These are just a few snaps of some of my favorite parts. No, not the food. I actually lost 4 lbs. in Venice. The food was not the biggest attraction. At all. On my first night there I stopped at a restaurant that looked good enough and close to my hotel, in the Castello neighborhood. On the recommendation of the waitress I ordered a traditional Venetian dish. Wait, is that right – Venetian? – or am I still confused with the magic of Vegas? Well, whatevs. It was a traditional dish, of polenta – which is Depression Food that my grandmother cooked often and I like – and then sardines and a sweet & sour sauce.
It was rather yucky.
Good thing there’s plenty of wine to wash it all down. And thanks to Facebook, I just learned that a glass of red wine is equivalent to an hour’s worth of exercise, so guess who began a new exercise regimen starting last week. It’s rhetorical, Reader – we both know it’s me. And you should have a glass of red, too, because all the experts say we’ll have a better chance of sticking to our new exercise routine if we do it together.
I’ll wait while you go pour yourself a glass.
Alrightie. Now that we’re working out together, I’ll share just a few more snippets of my wonderful week in Milano and Venice. It was wonderful. I made new friends, and we exercised quite often together in the evenings.
Upon checking into my hotel in Venice, I discovered that they really take their love seriously. Instead of shampoo, my hotel provided a travel sized bottle of Intimate Cleanser.
Upon sharing this learning with my Facebook Friends ~ahem~ a few select comments followed:
Looks like you used it all?
I am not sure if that bottle is big enough for the task at hand…
The second comment was from my younger brother, which while funny enough is also disturbing, and the bottom line is that the consensus is that folks think my vagina area is in need of a good cleaning and/or is gigantic.
Both may be accurate. Are probably accurate. But to go on the record, the intimate cleanser is CLEAR, I didn’t use it, as I was in Venice sans lover, and my twat was fine. Or at least if it wasn’t, there was no one there to tell me any different.
Europe had it’s time change last weekend while I was there. So I gained an extra hour of something, but since my body clock was already so fucked up from the six hour time difference – which it never did adapt to – I’m not even sure what that meant.
This weekend was our time change, which also happens to be my most favorite day of the year, even more than Christmas, because I heart sleep that much. And it coincided with the start of Birthday Month for me, which is NOW, so start your shopping, Reader- the clock is a tickin’ – use that extra hour you gained wisely, a.k.a., shopping for me. Since I just started a new exercise routine, some wine glasses would be a nice addition to my workout equipment.
The point is, I think I gained two hours in the past week, and yet I didn’t accomplish a fucking thing with them. So basically if I’m granted more hours in the day, I just sleep more and still wake up tired. God knows I didn’t spend them watching Honey Boo Boo, because Tidbit #3.
I leave the United States of America for a week, and Honey Boo Boo goes off the air. I used valuable International Minutes to keep up with the shenanigans. Go ahead and judge me, Reader. I judged me the entire time I was downloading all the sordid stories.
Italians eat entirely too much meat with added fat chunks. While we had some really good food, there was also some really gross food, and not a whole lot in the fruits and vegetables arena, unless you count the stomped grapes. And they are scrimpy with the water, pouring about a quarter of an inch in your glass at a time. I spent the week parched.
While on an airplane I will pass the time by eating whatever the hell the flight attendants plop in front of me. On the nine hour flight home I had the choice of vegetable lasagna – You know it, I know it, vegetable lasagna here knows it! – or chicken curry.
Reader, if there is one thing I hate, it’s curry. I detest curry.
Guess which meal I selected?
You’d be wrong.
I chose the chicken curry.
And I ate it.
I blame the high altitude and the lack of water from the prior week.
I think I have a brain tumor. Not from the trip, but not enhanced by the trip, either. Because my words? Have been all confused lately. Yesterday, this sentence came right out of my mouth:
“My hairs are leggy.”
And then once it registered what had come out of my mouth, I said, “I can’t believe those twisted words just came out of my mouse.”
Yep. My hairs are leggy. And my mouse can’t speak properly anymore.
It’s either a brain tumor, or the aftereffects of all that exercise I had last week.
Enjoy your extra hour, Reader. Be more productive than me, or at least join my exercise club that I’m going to start some day. It’s a new era, Crossfit Fucks – the Wine-ercizers are going to take over.