This will be the question I ask myself all weekend: What would Audrey Hepburn do? As my friends and I venture to the city of Monet and the Bastille, I can't help but keep good ol' Audrey in mind. Here's to a classy weekend with the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Angelina's, the Louvre, and so much more!
I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the happenings of the past week. Aside from the daily drag of classes (which seem to be increasingly painful with each passing day - and to think I'm normally the person loving class), there have been quite a few entertaining moments. On the side of hunger, this week was highlighted by one of my roommates cooking her mother's secret-recipe ravioli and my attempt at chocolate filled croissants (chocolate-bread-butter - what's not to love?). I was also fortunate enough to meet Guy Fieri, known best for hosting Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives. He was kind enough to speak with us for a few moments and it certainly added some happiness to my morning (which was already fantastic as my class was visiting one of my favorite churches, San Spirito).
On a funnier note, I was the butt of many jokes today as my outfit turned out to be entirely inappropriate for the weather. Why bother looking at weather.com if it is rarely accurate? It just so happens that today, the weather forecast made no mention of extreme winds. As such, I chose to wear a flowy knee-length skirt. Low and behold, the wind was roaring and one-too-many italians may or may not have gotten a glimpse of Victoria's Secret. I would say I'm embarrassed but I'm sad to say that I've endured embarrassment far worse. I digress.
But perhaps the coup-de-gras of the week goes to last night.
Warning: this story may result in heart palpitations for those grown individuals who are invested in my safety. Sorry, Mom & Dad.
Two of my roommates decided to venture out for drinks last night. They met-up with the guys who live upstairs and they all went to bars together. One of the boys who lives upstairs has friends from home visiting.....and therein lies the problem. You know how "some people just can't handle Vegas?" Well, Visiting-Idiots #1-5 can't handle Florence. By the time my roommates and company reached the discoteca, the gentlemen were a sight for sore eyes. As Short-Visiting-Idiot began to get violently ill, three of his cohorts rushed him back to the hotel. What, may you ask, happened to Idiot #5? Well, as he was dancing with one of my roommates, his friends left him. And this is where the problems begin.
My compassionate roommate noticed that idiot #5 was far too drunk, and lost, to find his way to a hotel. As such, she, with much effort, brought him back to our apartment. He quickly fell asleep and all was good in the world....right? WRONG. An hour and a half later, my roommate and I awake to find Idiot #5 walk into the door, back-up a few steps, and then proceed to drop his trousers and urinate all over the floor. Despite our yelling objections, Idiot #5 finished his business before walking back to our side of the room, lying down on the floor (banging his head on the dresser along the way), and falling back asleep.
Now you may remember, dear readers, that I did not accompany my roommates out to the club. Alas, I was awoken to a strange man urinating on my bedroom floor. To say I was furious would be perhaps the most severe understatement ever muttered from my lips. Despite my considerable strength, I was unable to physically throw this drunken idiot out the door (plus, my far-too-nice roommate insisted that we didn't because he was a friend of a friend). Alas, we let him sleep until morning, at which point we kicked his never-to-be-forgiven ass out the door.
If that's not a bedtime horror story to read kids going off to college, I don't know what is. On that note, buona notte amici!
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