Normally I’m a pretty good driver. Normally. But I have my moments now and again when I fuck up, real bad. I’m not talking accident bad, just stupid driving bad. And this weekend I had one of those moments. So on Thursday night as I was driving into the city I realized that I had forgotten my license at home. Mistake number 1. I just told myself to be extra careful when driving, by always following the speed limit (I went 5 miles faster) and to DEFINITELY NOT TEXT (I texted anyway, but I kept looking at the road, so that makes me extra cautious, right?) So after seeing The Dark Knight Rises WHICH WAS FLIPPING INCREDIBLE BY THE WAY. I am so in love with Catwoman. I either want to marry her, or be her, or both. Can I do that? Does that make me a lesbian? Anyway, the time was 2 am. Since it was so late, all the exits were closed except for one. One exit of a bajillion million was open. Just one. And I was on a journey to find it. (note: not an exaggeration, there are exactly a bajillion million exits in that parking structure, I SWEAR) So since the parking structure was lighted, I decided to not turn on my headlights. I was being courteous to the other drivers by not being cunty and flashing my headlights in their eyes. So after about 10 minutes of zigzagging and turning around, I FINALLY found the open exit. Problem was, I DIDN’T KNOW IF I COULD TURN LEFT OR NOT. Turns out, I could, but by that point I was already in the right hand lane making a right turn.

          

          So as I’m driving, my navigation isn’t recognizing the street I’m on. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? This has never happened to me before this moment, so I’m driving aimlessly straight, just hoping the satellites will kick in and jumpstart me back to my current destination. Right when it finally works, it tells me last minute to make a right hand turn. I swear to god my navigation system is a little bitch who’s nearsighted. She always tells me that my destination is like 500 feet closer than it should be. So I’m stopped at this light. Do I make a right or do I just keep going until it recalculates my route? It didn’t exactly look like a right hand turn lane, but there was an arrow on the ground indicating I could go that way so I said “fuck it” and made an extremely wide turn. Then suddenly, the flashing blue and red lights caught my eye in the review mirror. I started to panic, and I made a run for it, causing a speed chase which ended in the cop hitting a fire hydrant and his car exploding.

                                                                 The End.




          No, actually I pulled over, like the good little samaritan that I am, and proceeded to panic. The cop was young, he didn’t look much older than me. 

The dialogue went something like this:

“Hello officer”
“Do you have your license and registration?” 
“No, but can I blow you?”

          But really I had my registration. I just wanted to blow the cop. I just didn’t have my license, nor my insurance. Also I was made an illegal right hand turn and my headlights weren’t on. My only form of ID was from my college and in the photo I have blonde hair and it says I am not 21 yet, both of which are false. After talking for a bit, the cop started to walk away when I called out, “wait, is that it?” to which he replied, “Yes, drive safe ma’am.”

          ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? BEST COP EVER. I’m driving around like a fucking idiot. I should have gotten a ticket for not having my license, not having my insurance, and not having my lights on. He didn’t even say “this is a warning,” he just told me to drive safe. Nicest dude ever, like holy shit. Sometimes it really pays off to have a vagina, I’m telling you.

          After I drove away, I started to cry, 75% out of panicking about being pulled over, and the other 25% out of being so lucky that I wasn’t given at least 3 tickets. This is also another side effect of having a vagina.

          Anyway, I’m not usually this awful of a driver. I swear. But shit happens, you know? 
 

          I just finished watching The Way We Were starring Barbra Stresiand and Robert Redford (MAN, whatta hunk).

          This film has everything. It’s got romance, protests, feminism, glamorous makeup, curly hair, communism! What’s not to love?! This tear jerker will forever be a favorite film of mine and I will never stop singing “The Way We Were.” (Thanks for that one Babs). Watching their relationship made me think of my own relationships and about how you can love someone so fervently. What crossed my mind during the movie was the first time someone said, “I love you” to me and really meant it. Looking back though, if someone first said “I love you” the way he did then, I would slap them across the face and force them to take it back and redo it properly, then I’d pretend to act all surprised and all would be well. But before I tell you what he did, I want to add a little back story, this is totally going to be How I Met Your Mother style: It was the summer before junior year of high school. I was a young girl, 4 months shy of 17. I was going on a family vacation for a week, so made plans to hang out with my best guy friend before I left. We went to the movies, but to be clear, this was NOT a date. We bought tickets to see Nicole Kidman in her academy award-winning role in The Invasion. Oh I’m sorry, what was that? Kidman didn’t win an Oscar? Or anything for that matter because the movie was fucking terrible? Oh, right. Well we just bought those tickets so we could sneak into Superbad. Wasn’t being 16 just the friggin’ best? Old enough to drive but not old enough to watch people having sex and say things like “Well Jules, the funny thing about my back is that it’s located on my cock.” Really fantastic line, btw. Anyway, as you could have guessed, we got kicked out of the theater for being too young. 

                     
                                          AGEIST SON OF A BITCH.

           So we had to go sit in the stupid movie we actually bought tickets for. Needless to say, we didn’t watch the movie, and long story short, a relationship was born. Holy shit, kids are fucking romantics, are they not? Making out in a movie theater a few seats down from an older couple is what constituted as a relationship back then. Good times. So a couple days later, I’m giddy as ever and on vacation with my family. I certainly didn’t tell my parents what happened, but for no apparent reason. I think I thought I was being cool and sneaky for keeping it a secret, but honestly, teenagers are just stupid. At the time I was also planning how to break it off from the guy I was seeing. Oh did I forget to mention that? We weren’t really seeing each other. It was…complicated. We went out on a few dates, I gave him a kiss once, and then he promptly fled my car, probably to cry or vomit from nervousness.

                                   
                                        “Give it to me straight doc, what’s wrong with me?”    
                     ”Sorry to say this son, but you’ve caught cooties. You have 3 months to live.”

          So it was like breaking up with someone although nothing had really started. I was honest, and told him that there was someone else in the picture of whom I had feelings for. But you know what the worst thing about it was? I did it through text message. Because I am a complete dick. Funny side note: We were best friends in preschool and it wasn’t until we reconnected that we realized who each other was. Small world and totally interesting, no? No. Okay, let me get back to incessantly blabbing about the longest first I love you story ever. So the break up text is actually a great segue to bring this story full circle. A couple days after the entire being-16-and-making-out-in-a-theater-shenanigans, we were texting while I was having dinner. And that my friends, is how he said, “I love you.” Through a text message. While I was out of the state. Did I mention it was through a text? And after 2 years of chasing this boy, you best believe I was overjoyed out of my fucking mind. OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND. Yes, I do realize I keep repeating myself, but it’s for emphasis. FOR EMPHASIS. And then if I remember correctly, I think we pretended the exchanges of “I love yous” didn’t happen for about a month before we said it again. Then we broke up. But that was almost 2 years later, so I’d say we had a pretty good run. And the greatest thing about it is we’re still awesome friends today. It’s just sort of strange to think about how it’s possible to fall out of love with someone, but I guess that’s why they call it falling in love in the first place. But I think we all know what the true moral of the story is: Cooties are fatal, and they’ll probably kill you.

          After an emotional night of Sex and the City, (no I wasn’t having it, yes it was the show, can you please stop mocking me for sleeping with my cats?) I finally fell asleep around 3 am. I woke up around 9 so I could catch the 11 o’clock showing of Magic Mike with my friend’s mom. (IT’S NOT WEIRD, SHUT UP.)
Nothing says
GOOD MORNING
quite like dicks on the big screen.    
                   

                                        THAT, my friends, is a penis.

        
                                  Mmm mmm mmm, God bless America! 

          And incase you were wondering, some other things you get to see in the film are rolling hips, stomachs, and packages being thrusted on women’s faces. Yummy. I’d post more photos, but really it’s much better in the theater. Plus you get to see Channing Tatum’s bare ass too many times to count. Yes ladies and gents, God apparently is real and has answered our prayers, HALLELUJAH! 

          This incredible movie (incredible because of the nakedness, not the plot, although it was likeable) reminded me of the time I went to my first and only strip club. 

The year: 2009.
Who? A birthday girl, an ex-friend, and me! (whatta bunch, eh?)
Where? Hollywood Men.
What? Surprise birthday bash. 

          My good friend had just turned 18 (she’s engaged now! Hmm, I’m seeing a bachelorette party at Hollywood Men in the future…) so another friend (now ex friend but that’s a completely different story )(pssst, she’s crazy), and I decided to get together and take her to a male strip show. We convinced the birthday girl that we were taking her to a comedy club, because seeing a dude in a thong is way more exciting without a disclaimer.

          So we’re standing in line behind a bunch of women all dressed up and giggling like fools. There were even quite a few wearing veils and penis crowns. You could hear the music blaring from inside the club, yet my friend still had no idea where she really was. She asked us, “Um, guys, I don’t get the male to female ratio here” as she looked around and noticed only women standing in line. Thinking quick on my feet (because I’m smart, duh) I told her that it was probably just ladies night (insert snarky giggle here), and yet again she believed me. As we’re nearing the front of the line, there’s a bouncer and a huge poster of shirtless men in a row.

                   Hey isn’t that Kevin from the Backstreet Boys? Pretty sure he goes by Niko now.

          Upon seeing the poster, miss birthday girl thinks to herself “Oh cool, an all male comedy troupe!” Oh my my my, what a naive little jewess. It wasn’t until after we entered the club, breathed in the fog machine smoke, heard the blaring music AND saw shirtless waiters wearing bow ties and carrying trays of drinks that my friend screamed “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, ARE WE AT A STRIP CLUB?!”

          The rest of the night was spent screaming and gushing over the beautiful men in assless chaps and banana hammocks with tassels. I know what you’re thinking, “Wow, life can’t get any better” Actually, it can, AND IT DID. 

          Up on the stage was Niko (formerly known as Kevin from the Backstreet Boys). He performed a dance to Grind on Me by Pretty Ricky. Now imagine him picking up a lit candle and pouring hot wax over his abs while doing a body roll. Amazing, right? If you’re a man reading this, just shoot yourself now. You know you could never live up to the expectations of Niko.* 

BUT WAIT! The story doesn’t end just yet!

          After all of the dance acts, it was time to bring the ladies onto the stage. This is where I paid for a $10 lap dance by Rico (not to be confused with Niko). We made sweet sweet love on the stage. (He stared into my eyes while I touched his baby-oiled chest, that’s at least 2nd base, haters.)

             
Do you see the magic? the love? the lust? HOW CAN YOU NOT?! P.s. you can totally see the outline of his penis.

 

Overall, what I guess I’m saying is, I’m a big fan of male strippers. HUGE. I support male nudity. And you should too. Stay tuned for my next post. SPOILER ALERT: It’s about the sex show I saw in Amsterdam.

*For those of you who I got all hot and bothered, you can watch Niko pour wax on himself here! His dance starts about 30 seconds in. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipMiX5-oh7Y&feature=youtu.be

 

   This is my life explained perfectly with the help of adorably serious animals.

          Here’s a conversation I had with a friend last night:

          “How’s the essay going?” he asked, nonchalantly. She stared at her computer screen. “I have to pee,” she responded, trying to divert his attention away from the fact that she had accomplished nothing that night, other than scour the internet for horrifying tattoos and trashy celebrities. “You’re so fucked,” he wrote. He was right. She is leaving for Dublin in a day and half and has a 10 page paper due the day after she returns. Could she write it while on her vacation? Seemed unlikely. ”Why am I like this?” she asked, desperately hoping for a response that would give her some insight to who she is or how she could change. ”Because you hate bullshit. And I love you for it,” was his answer. Honest and precise, she thought. The perfect answer. 

          Side note: Didn’t you guys know? Facebook has totally updated their system yet again. You can turn measly everyday conversations into a dramatic novel!

                                              This guy’s a douche.
 

          Commence the wailing and bitching about how much you hate new facebook and how it totally ruined your life because it murdered your entire fam—wait, what? Facebook isn’t capable of murder because it’s not a sentient being? Well then surely it must have done something equally horrific such as..wait, I’m sorry, did you just say it just turned your page into a timeline? So there’s now two columns of comments and you can highlight your favorite memories from your life? Jesus christ, all of you just shut the fuck up already. This has got to be the number one First World Problems complaint. And I thought I was bad when I would walk in the kitchen with socks and then get upset when I stepped in water. 

                         But seriously, wet socks are THE WORST. 
 

          Honestly, this is a bullshit essay for a bullshit class. I speak for myself when I say this, because I know other people like the class. While my peers studiously take notes on each slide, I spend my class time drawing terrible doodles in the margins of my papers or reading Cracked articles. Besides, I learn valuable information from Cracked, such as directors who abused their actors to make classic films, or why a zombie apocalypse is destined to happen. But hey, I got an A on the last final (lord knows how) so I’m not TOO worried for this one. Slightly worried, but not enough to give a fuck. Maybe half a fuck, at best. I just mentally checked out of Milan weeks ago, and it’s getting progressively worse. Did you know I’ve been trying for days to write this essay? I use the term “try” loosely. Another problem is it’s on a topic we’ve never discussed in class. Who does that? Isn’t the whole point of writing essays to apply the knowledge you half-assedly learned throughout the semester? I hope everyone is having an easier time than I with their finals… You all thought I was going to say I hope everyone is having an equally terrible time or worse, didn’t you? Assholes.

          If someone asks you to think of the worst thing you could possibly think of, what comes to mind? War? Nah. Zombie apocalypse? No way! Most people want that to happen anyway.  Give up? IT’S BABIES AND CHILDREN ON AIRPLANES. There is honestly nothing worse in the world and I dare you to disagree with me. I fucking dare you. So last weekend I flew to Morocco. I love that since I’m studying abroad, traveling is no big deal. It’s the norm, the way of life. I can act so fucking nonchalant about being in NORTHERN AFRICA! Which, by the way, I had NO idea Morocco was in Africa! Yes yes, point and laugh at my stupidity, whatever. If you know me at all you’ll know I suck at geography. Before going to Morocco if you had asked me to point on a map where I thought it was, I would have pointed to an area around southern Europe and said “THERE!” And since my finger is large in comparison to a map of the world, who knows, maybe my finger easily would have guessed the right spot.
       

                       who’s a good little finger? You are! Yes, you are!

          Anyway, as I was on my way to Morocco luxuriously sipping a martini and wearing a scarf around my hair (none of this happened) everything was great. I’m pretty sure there was a child near by, but all was good until we were about to land. And then the crying ensued, but you know what? It’s fine. The ride was almost over, and the kid was fantastic the whole time there. I think. I mean, I slept the entire way so I’m just assuming it kept it’s devilish ways to itself. Post landing we stood in line at customs behind this Moroccan dad and his adorable child. This little girl, let me tell you, had a mind of her own. She looked about 1, they walk at 1, right? And she kept wandering off because apparently she’s too good to stand in line. Looking around me, there were children everywhere. The airport was their playground. This little kid was sliding under the bars which designates where the lines begin and end. Other children were playing tag. And the cute little girl in front of us? She was having the time of her life pushing my friend’s suitcase in circles. It was one of those fancy shmancy 4 wheelers. And this little girl was having the time of her freaking life pushing a suitcase! Can you remember the last time you’ve had that much fun from doing practically nothing? Shit, I’m envious of these sticky handed creatures. It takes a lot more than a suitcase and metal bars to entertain me. Thank you, Steve Jobs. Anyway, as these hooligans ran amok with their parents chasing after them and airport personnel trying to stop them, I began thinking of alternative methods than bringing your children flying.

Method 1: Children Kennels 

          Now hear me out before you shoot me down. What I’m about to write is probably not what you’re thinking. You know how when you travel and you need to leave your pet at a kennel? Well why not do the same thing with children?! Oh, that’s exactly where you thought this was going? My mistake, but good for you for keeping up. Anyway, I think this is a great idea! In a pet kennel, each pet gets their own cage enclosure. They’re given toys, food at appropriate hours, sometimes a window, and play time out doors! So while you’re having an adult vacation and sipping mai tais on the beach, your child is wearing a shock collar so they don’t step out of bounds of the grass being carefully watched during free time with his or her friends. 

            
                          “Have fun sweetie! Mommy needs a drink.”

Method 2: Children Ride in Cargo

If you absolutely, positively, must bring your child with you, then place it him/her in cargo. On the way home from Morocco, I didn’t have the most pleasant experience with children as I did on my way there. First there was a cute little baby girl in line. Her father was holding her and she was giggling and having a great time. The day before I received a My Little Pony toy in my Moroccan McDonald’s Happy Meal. We were crunched for time and I was starving, what do you expect?! This is the toy I received:

                          Is it just me, or does she look like a complete whore?
 

          Since this toy did nothing productive for me, I gave it to the baby. Little did I know, she’d use it as a weapon!! The moment her grubby hand took the purple unicorn was the moment I helped her exact revenge on her father. She was beating the shit out of him with the toy, no joke. She kept hitting him in the face with it. I bet her parents hated me. If they took the toy away, she’d cry, if they let her keep it, she’d continue to terrorize her poor dad with it. It was a lose/lose situation, and all of this was my fault. HOW WAS I TO KNOW?! I’m sure they were angry at me and were just being polite. Also, the kid kept dropping it on the ground. When my friend went to retrieve it, the kid would do it again. She grew wise to this game of fetch. This little girl had a small taste of power, and liked it. I apologize in advance if this kid becomes a tyrannous leader or a republican when she gets older. 

          So as we board the plane and get to choose our own seats, I swore to myself I wouldn’t sit near children. Did you know life doesn’t work that way? Because I learned that when a child was seated behind me and another one right next to me. Oh the joys of reproduction. First the kid behind me continued to kick my chair for about 15 minutes, and the plane hadn’t even begun to move. Then the kid next to me gave me dirty looks. I’m pretty sure he sensed my “not kid friendly” vibes I was shooting out. Luckily for me, the grandma switched seats with her kid so the kicking of my chair stopped. The little tyke next to me was sick so he was surprisingly great for the plane ride. Didn’t make a commotion or anything. And I slept soundly almost the entire ride home. Except for the end. When the child behind me was screaming for 20 minutes. That was fun. 

          Sort of. This guy on Skype added me. Upon clicking the “accept message” button, I hadn’t realized I’d be adding him onto Skype. My bad. Anyway, I messaged him saying “Who is this?” and his response? “hey im sorry i know another Caitlin and when i searched for her three came up…but im bruce by the way very nice to meet you and my god your beautiful haha im sorry wen i added you, you had no pic so only seeing now” GOOD GOD MAN, learn how to use punctuation. Also, what the fuck? I don’t even know this creep and he’s already trying to get in my virtual pants. The next time I came online he sent me a message saying hey, so I blocked him. I’m assuming I’ll be receiving a hostile love note written in his blood and pictures of me sleeping soon in the mail. I’ll keep you posted. I’ve been thinking about the concept of human relations and affection for the past week and this was just the cherry on top. A guy whom I’ve never met before was reaching out to me through the internet. You can’t get more desperate than that. 

          This might be a good time to make a disclaimer. For those of you who were in a relationship before going abroad and are still making it work now, that’s great for you! I admire your persistance and strength for trying to make that work. This is really about the people who had been broken up but got back together because they couldn’t handle  being alone with themselves for 5 months. Not trying to offend but I know I will. Just kidding, no one reads this anyway.
          
          It amazes me the lengths people will go to receive another person’s affections. It just shows how desperate we all are for love and attention, that we’d rather have a “relationship” with somebody through texting, Facebook and Skyping, than in person. My friend the other day was talking about a few guys from our program. She was telling me about how they all got back with their exes from home. This is hilarious to me. If you didn’t know, most Italian women don’t like American men. They’ve been referred to affectionately as “ice queens.” I know, that’s a generalization, but I’m really only referring to the ones who go out dancing at the discotecas. Italian men on the other hand are a whole other story. They like to whisper sweet nothings into your ear such as, “you’re beautiful,” and “you’re so beautiful,” and, this one is a real gem, “you’re beautiful.” They will do this because 1. They think it’s flattering (It’s not). 2. They don’t speak much english. 3. They think it’ll make you kiss them (you won’t—unless you’re really drunk). Anyway, I just feel bad for the girls back home whose boyfriends are here. They’re probably thinking, “oh that’s so sweet! He’s half way around the world and yet I’m the only girl he wants to be with.” EEEEEEEEH! (obviously a buzzer) False! He just can’t get any play out here. It’s just interesting to me because a lot of the guys here seem kind of douchey and frat boy-y. Again, not worried about offending people because no one reads this. But I guess they’re sensitive enough to the point where they’d rather have a pretend relationship with a girl at home than have to deal with being alone for 5 months. What interesting creatures we are.

          By the way, I’m not aiming this post at just the guys. But everyone in general. Even those who aren’t in relationships with someone back home have people they’re currently talking to. Most of the people on this program that I’ve talked to have a person back home with whom they talk to often and are considering starting something up when they return. I admit, I’m guilty of it too. It’s that pesky being human thing with emotions and shit. Someone really needs to fix that. So overall I guess I’m asking you to think about why you’re with the person you’re with. It’s not fair to take advantage of another person’s feelings for selfish purposes. It’s also not fair to yourself, because you’re not allowing yourself to figure out who you are outside of a relationship. Think of your time abroad and away from your ex as 5 months of YOU time. 5 months where you can grow into someone you love. 5 months where you wish you could spend more time alone with you even after the program ends. You owe it to yourself to be happy without the dependence of another person acting as your crutch.

Dear Michael J. Fox, or as I fondly think of you, Marty McFly,

          I just watched the second half of Back to the Future in Italian. Albeit, it was sad to not hear your actual voice, I still felt butterflies and a surge of excitement while watching you on the television in the living room. I’m also glad I memorized half the lines so it was much easier to follow. While watching you and day dreaming about our wedding—oh, you’re married? With children my age? I don’t see how that’s relevant—I realized, you are the original Ryan Gosling. I take back what I said before.

                                                         insert Back to the Future joke here.

You’re truly the one who has ruined all future love interests for me, and Ryan, I am so sorry for wrongfully placing the blame on you. You’re still great though, like, so great. There are plenty of other women out there who are mad at you for being so amazing, I guarantee the sting from this won’t even last long. I hope we can stay friends? 

Anyway Marty—er, Michael, as I was watching you play Johnny B. Good like a maniac (and wishing I was that guitar), I just realized how much I appreciate you. I genuinely enjoyed staying home tonight and watching you instead of going out. I felt a constant buzz of energy and happiness while curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. And I don’t like it when people think of me as “sad” or tell me I need to get out more. I’m perfectly happy and content when I’m alone. Plus I have so many trips planned for this semester, why is it necessary I need to go out this weekend? Some people inadvertently try to make me feel bad for my lifestyle, like it’s sad I get along better with my television than most people, but so what? As long as I’m happy at the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters? Would you like to know how I spent my day today? After catching up with an old friend until 4 am last night, I passed out. I woke up at 1 pm today. Had lunch. Took a nap between 3:30 and 5:30. Procrastinated on the internet. Began outlining for my midterm script, but was interrupted by Italian Back to the Future. Then had dinner, skyped with my mom, and decided it was necessary for me to profess my love for an actor who will never (remember folks, optimism!) most likely never see this on the internet. Yes I did slightly waste my day away, but I’m in a better mood for it, so that’s all that matters, right?

Michael, not only are you adorable and talented,

like, are you kidding me with this face? Have you seen anything cuter? And sorry, but I just have to say it, I’d take MJF over RG with a puppy any day! (Oh the blasphemy!)

you’re absolutely inspiring. You’ve been battling Parkinsons Disease since 1991, yet today you’re filled with boundless optimism and determination for finding a cure. You’ve really put life in perspective for me, and for that I thank you. Side note: I really should read your books. I’m going to get on that soon, I swear! 

Overall, the Back to the Future trilogy is honestly my favorite group of films ever made, ever. I still get nervous and excited every time I see the scene where the cords become unplugged, Doc is hanging from the clock tower, and you’re desperately trying to get the car to start. I totally act like I don’t know what’s going to happen. Will he make it? Won’t he? THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME! Also, not to mention the endless unforgettable lines. Why isn’t “heavy” still a thing we say? I propose we bring it back! Who’s with me?! Also, as I’m scouring your IMDB page, I’m wondering why I didn’t realize you were the original Teen Wolf, and why am I not watching it as we speak? I’m not normally a fan of a hairy chest but hey, I bet you can pull it off. 

Overall, I love you. I love that you love life. And as George Mcfly said it best,

“I’m your density.” (Cause we’re totally going to meet and fall in love, right?)

Step 1. Look up “How To Be Happy” on eHow.com Step 2. Half ass read the first two steps and promptly stop because of boredom. Step 3. Write a blog post about it that no one will read.

I’m in Milan. Italy. Freakin’ Europe! Shouldn’t this be the best time of my life? Then why do I feel so…meh? I thought studying abroad would be a life changing experience. One which would allow me to grow independently, spiritually, and emotionally. Well I’ve figured a few things out: I’m already independent and I’ve never been spiritual. On the contrary, I have had a very emotional experience: A man flashed me on the subway. It was such a romantic gesture, he obviously thought I was pretty! I look back on that moment with a great fondness and longing…

Anyway, last semester was rough. So I’m trying to make this semester even better. I plan on traveling a lot, seeing the famous Baby Powell this weekend in Spain! Super excited to see her. I plan on marrying into her family one day. Not sure how to go about that considering her siblings are all married, and no matter how much Becca begs, I just wouldn’t feel comfortable marrying her. Nonetheless, I will find a way to make myself a Powell, damn it! Did you know one time I spent 2 hours chillin’ with her parents while she was at school? Of course you didn’t know that, YOU NEVER ASKED! I came over to pick up my sunglasses I had forgotten, and I just stayed. Did a crossword with her dad, listened to her dad call her mom hot, and watched her dad try and show off by doing 3 whole push-ups, whatta man! This is completely off topic, but this is just how much love I have for the Powells.

Now back to finding my happy. I’ve been here for 2 months. There’s 3 more to go, so here’s to hoping I’ll have a revelation soon. Now it’s time to watch Pretty Little Liars. That’s a start :)

I’m in a film class where our homework assignments are to write scripts. Sounds awesome, right? I take the written word and transform it into something beautiful, magical, and a piece usually involving genitals. I’ve realized that I like to take control and when my teacher says to buddy up, I say okay and then I end up writing the whole thing alone. I mean I’ve only done it twice, but I like it that way. I have a very specific vision and other people like to cloud that with their so-called ideas. Screen play writing is the reason I decided to start a blog. Normally I hate writing, and writing hates me. We fight in bloody battles until fingers are broken and nasty things about hair have been said that can never be taken back. What I didn’t realize is that I just hate essay writing. I’m all for screen plays and blogs (obviously). So below are two of my scripts. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did writing them. I took them down. I figure people won’t really take the time to read them and they just take up space. But if you’re interested, let me know.

          I’m in Italy and I have never felt less motivated or less creative in my life. How is that possible? How the hell am I in Europe and all I want to do all day is snuggle up under my covers with Tina Fey? And by Tina Fey I mean 30 Rock on my computer, other wise that would be weird. But would it? Yes, yes it would. And I’m sure Tina is far too busy being a mom, actress, writer and producer to take time out of her day to fly out to Italy and have a cuddle with me. I’ve also started Bossypants, and yeah, Tina and Liz are practically the same person.

          God love her, and vending machines. Speaking of, my mom is sending me a care package consisting of Cool Ranch and Nacho Cheese Doritos, Ranch and BBQ Corn Nuts, Cheez-its, Cheetos, and Chester’s Hot Fries. Holy shit am I not the luckiest girl in the world? I’ve been eating ridiculously healthy since I’ve been here, and it’s just terrible for my health. I mean for the past week I’ve had the flu. I blame the lack processed foods which have been replaced by nutrients. Such a shame, really. 

          I’m not sure why I’ve started this blog. Out of boredom perhaps, or possibly because I miss art yet I feel no connection to it anymore. Maybe writing is my new thang, we’ll see how it goes. And I just spent an hour getting nagged at to drink more water. Don’t you just love skype and how easily you can connect to your parents? Me neither. And if you’re reading this parents, ha ha ha totally joking ha ha! Love talking to you, wish you were here! Damn, may have gone a bit too far with that. No turning back. In all seriousness I am slightly homesick. But Italy really is great. The people on my program are all right. I’ve made a few close friends, but most are like “you’re cool, we should hang out.” “Yeah, let’s totally do that!” And then it happens, like once a month. Which is fine, I’ve got my Italian family who rocks, and my bed, and a dolphin. 

                                       Ohhh, you’re my best friend.

          Oh, awesome side note by the way. I love having partners for projects, because they never let you down and they do their half of the work and send it to you in a timely fashion! ON OPPOSITE DAY. People are idiots. Don’t trust them.

Ciao.