Chronicles of an American Euro-Snob

I have not done much this weekend, except lounge around La Pietra because my plans have more often than not been shot down. But I did do a few things worth mentioning. Firstly, After the cancellation of a kitchen date with the girls and an appt in town, Dani and I went to the Gilli Bar for a nice glass of champagne and some desserts-- che buono! Then when we got back home, everyone was going out to this new club, so of course we decided to go along for once, to see how things went down.
Well this club we decided to go to was like walking into the least sanitary junior prom of all eternity. The floor was black and sticky, the people were white and sticky, and the music was bad and sticky. The place was called "twenty one; disco bar" so we really couldn't have expected much but i guess we were hoping for far greater than what we got. After about two seconds of breathing in air that smells like my room's 15 year old blow-dryer, we left with a large pack of NYU'rs and we took a little stroll to this bar right off the Arno. It was quite nice except I think I saw you, Mom, in there.. and the music was not on the ball.
Waiting at the taxi stand at 2AM, we were with our friend Rustin who somehow unfortunately got to talking with a punkish bunch of folk that were high on something. He told them "Yes, I am Iranian... They are from America" We got angry.

The American Euro-Snob. Too proud to be Italian, but too ashamed to be an American. What a tricky road I travel. Tricky, Tricky, Tricky.

Dani as "The American Girl in Italy"

Me & The Iranian

Return of the Monkeymask!