Need To Fix Something? Well, I've Got A Screwdriver...

Oh - MG.
They make profiterole gelato.

...

No I know. (Deep breathes now)
I was already composing arias to profiterole.

Yo, Fuck 'Il Gelato', I'm officially hoofing it to the Piazza Guido Monaco and "Il Galaxy' for the good stuff from now on.


- But that's really beside the point.
(I didn't even want gelato at 3pm after the gnocchi and PB & J cakes I fashioned out of Ricardo's jam tarts and and some of the Peanut Butter that my (saintly, sweet, no one better) Mother sent in my (enormous, fantastic, envy inducing) carepackage, but when we walked into town, nothing was open, because apparently all of the Italians are sleeping off lunch. Hey, who am I to begrudge them a nationwide nap time? I'm only jealous. And besides, that gave me the opportunity to walk over to the Winery, where I picked out a mid range 2004 red that I'll try later on... How did you use the extra time we got when Lorenza called in sick for our afternoon Italian class? You ... Ah. Yes. You bought alcohol. Yes, yes, I see. - Oh, No! It's not a surprise, no....)


Did I have a point? After that ridiculous parenthetical, it feels more and more like I really didn't have anything better to talk about then that heavenonearthinfrozenform - Profiterole Gelato....
I think I'll name my first child Profiterole....
- Oh, don't worry, I'll spell it Praughphitteroll, or something... It won't be weird.

...



Ah, yes.
Screwdrivers.
(They're in the title, aren't they? You didn't think that was just for shits and giggles, did you? I mean I know YOU did Jason, but there's a logic, I swear... You really don't give me enough credit.)
?

To deconstruct: I suppose the thing that was broken was me - after my second 2 hour movement class of the day, we were hurtin' for certain, and what better way to unwind before dinner then a nice hot shower and a mixed drink? Or three?
Here's my recipe for Screwdrivers:

2 - 4 slugs of Vodka
3 - 5 sloshes of OJ

serve luke warm in a coffee mug


So I put on a nice strapless dress and some pink glittery sneakers (I just love 'dressing' for dinner, don't you? It makes me feel so civilized, even in the most barbaric circumstances.), and stood at my window to talk to the adorable violinist who was passing below me in the last purples of the setting sun on his way to dinner.
After dinner we shaved Nellie's head.
Aaaaannnnd, then I watched The Fountain before bed.


This morning I didn't run.
GO ahead, judge me. I couldn't get out of bed.
(fuck you Grotowski. No, really, FUCK YOU. ...acrobatics of the soul my ass it's just fucking somersaults i hate somersaults and I don't want to rangle tiny chickens any longer...)
And then of course we were hopping around and tapping each other on the collar bone with our toes - BEST thing I've ever done in a movement class, easily, but a lot more down time than we would normally have.

- Have I mentioned that I think that we're wrong about the heart being the seat of love in the body? And why wouldn't I get into that now? ... Yeah. I think it's the collar bone. That's where I feel it. It gets you right on the collar bone. Broken heart? Pfff. Broken Collar Bone. -




... I need to do laundry.
Not that I'm going to get up and do it,
I'm just saying.

...
I better go now.
Quit while I'm ahead.

(2 days)