zenexistence

I know I just came back from a vacation but I think I need another.

I want to go to Italy.

I'm not sure why. Pasta? Wine? Italian bread? Scooters? Ciao?

But I have to have a cute lady to do this with. With that we we can stroll hand in hand, take in all the beautiful culture, the beautiful sights, dine on fabulous quisine while speaking terrible, gut-wrenching bastard-Italian, peruse country villas, drink wine under the stars, eat too much cheese and too much bread, laugh, talk, love, dance, dive, drive, strive, high-five, monopolize, I have my mothers thighs ...

Wait. What?

But I HAVE to have a cute girls with me; just so we can recreate all those really bad diamond commercials on the steps of some museum. You know the commercials. I'll randomly point to people whom we (and, consequently, they don't know us) and yell, "Mom! Dad! Drunk Uncle Fezzinrothinsquigglepants! You've all come to see us renew our vows! Thank you thank you!"
After which I will probably get escorted by the Italian authorities to an Italian jail where many burly Italian men will want to do some very Greek things to me.

But it'll be worth it.