Awakening is not the easiest. I still have a vivid picture of the frightful Linda Blair and Israeli to get rid of it I just have to slip in the shower, open the hot water tap, water to roar until it reaches the boiling temperature and remain motionless for about ten minutes, just long enough to clean even with all that wax, which tends to lurk around my brain. I could stay there for hours if only I were not going to visit Brooklyn, Chinatown and Little Italy . So, I found shortly after walking in the streets of New York with the usual tall scalding milk for him and for her retardant and a donut in his hands. No metro, today I do the whole walk. Midway through a crowd, radunatasi for the occasion, follow me for a few meters and encouraging them giving me energy drinks' s EPO and a calendar of Playboy that makes me mist up sunglasses. At half, when the legs begin to yield me and I cut out the intestines stomach acid, I decided to stop for a pizza from Grimaldi . It seems that the time was frequented by Frank Sinatra . The pizza, which I'm lucky to share with a cute girl he met while waiting for a table, is ontologically what it was for the battleship Potemkin Fantozzi. Just one average American's bulging cheesburger, coca and breasts of Pamela Anderson might mistake it for that kind of tasty focaccia stuffed with that much good they do in Italy. At least the girl with whom I have the pleasure of talking for over an hour, a Californian in his thirties, is nice. It is located in New York because he has just attended American edition of 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire' . I ask how it went but it tells me that because of his religion, it is not allowed riverlarmelo. Then he confesses that it has signed a contract in which you assume the responsibility to not tell anyone about the outcome of the episode before it aired. In addition, it has the absolute obligation not to blurt out to right and left that Obama is really black . Wow! After lunch and conversation topics, I bid farewell to my host city and resume the marathon between fascist insignia 'Da Benito' mysterious characters and probably stuffed spring rolls. Never in my life I would have thought you could walk for so long . When you return to the hotel, the sun went down for a while. It's almost nine. I lie on the bed, exhausted. I pull the phone. Three missed calls. All the same person. The girl who the night before trying to hypnotize, impaled, scrutinizing the soul through the eyes. The recall. Ah, hello, blah blah blah, I was running around with a friend - another?! - and did you think of me and bla bla bla aperitif. Lei I, eh, no, bla bla bla, bla bla bla Brooklyn, want to go out to eat something? Why I hate eating alone : finished reading the menu, I never know where to look and I always feel paranoid that people spend your time staring at me. Like the one over there. You, no I have already eaten, but if you want to do together. I, okay. You know a good Italian restaurant near my hotel.
Excellent Italian restaurant? I do not want to argue, I'm tired and hungry. Appointment there in front of a quarter to ten. I take a taxi. The taxi is stuck in traffic.
"Well, tonight there is a concert by Bon Jovi "
However, the information I was not very helpful. Midway - about two weeks later - ordered the taxi driver to stop.
"I continue to walk"
The taxi driver makes mad but if I arrive late, then Bon Jovi was hurt. I'm late. It accelerates the pace. Corro. She is there in front waiting for me.
"I'm sorry. Bon Jovi playing there. " I think it's a good excuse. Will use it more often. Let's go. The restaurant is huge. A waiter definitely homosexual who poses as if in fact it was even more, there is place in a secluded area of \u200b\u200bthe room. I order a salad as a starter - "Do not plan a portion, please. A normal, thanks "-, spaghetti, and two glasses of red wine. Her ice cream. When the waiter returned, holding in his hand a field of lettuce, carrots and tomatoes . Fuck! Good thing I brought the mower and rake. The noodles are overcooked . Never get in an Italian restaurant to take anyone who tries to speak our language, saying, 'salami' and 'Grazzia'. Meanwhile, she has abandoned the climb that mountain of snow-covered ice cream and chocolate. The reading of my soul shall creandomi many embarrassments. I speak of this and that and not much else because my mathematical culture has somewhat decreased over the years. Miraculously, I can finish the plate of spaghetti. The glasses of wine from two became four, but the fate is the same. It's time to make a decision. So I know how it ends.
"Want to go for a drink", I ask? She nods her head. I smile, stupid for the most part by the gargantuan meal, I get up and go to the bathroom to fix a thing. A guy in his seventies, intent on draining vehemently a prostate sufferer, he turns to me and mutters something unintelligible that it does sganasciare laughter. It also sketches a lock on me and I more beautiful. Once the logistical operation, I settle my hair, I'll wink and I'm ready for my triumphant return. What I see, however, will not let me taste the ultimate victory: she is next to him and seems to be talking animatedly. I approached cautiously. The guy turns around.
"You have to be David." They found me, dammit!
"Yes, hello, pleased." Reach out my hand as I was taught. "And you're ?""****, pleasure. **** Told me last night. You were a great, few would have done the same for you "
" But no, I figured. It is because I am Italian, you know. " What an idiot answer, but I thought just now. "Are you also Israel?". I seem to recognize the accent.
"Yes, ****". Ah, from the city of ****. How strange ...
"What are you doing here in New York?"
"I am here to work. A couple of months, "
After the brief introduction, she takes him under his arm, and moving toward the exit, states with a" Ok, we have to go. We'll see "the end of the evening. I remain bewildered there for a few seconds, then close the jacket, put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the hotel. It is said that curiosity is a woman, but you can see that in my case is an exception. As soon as I enter the room, I connect to Facebook and I put her name in the search. It takes me slightly to find it, given that the personal information in my possession did not find an exact match. I read a profile in "Married to". And guess what 'who is the husband? The next day I
storm of phone calls and messages. To which I say not. Insults me as well. What can I say ... I'm sorry for him, horned platonic. I feel sorry for me, a fool taken for a ride. I'm sorry, but not so much for her, and not an idiot Dostoevsky, because only an idiot can planning a tryst at his favorite restaurant in New York. Do not do moral judgments. Do not I can afford, but even I have my values. Sure, some would argue, to Woody Allen, who are a notch below those of an insurance agent, but in any case, there are. And most importantly, I do not like a person omits material information relevant to say .... That said, everyone, once it slips under the covers and turns off the light, must come to terms with his conscience. Unfortunately, due to alcohol, I will find one that mumbles and do not understand what he wants to tell me never . Patience and health. Good week to all!
Excellent Italian restaurant? I do not want to argue, I'm tired and hungry. Appointment there in front of a quarter to ten. I take a taxi. The taxi is stuck in traffic.
"Well, tonight there is a concert by Bon Jovi "
However, the information I was not very helpful. Midway - about two weeks later - ordered the taxi driver to stop.
"I continue to walk"
The taxi driver makes mad but if I arrive late, then Bon Jovi was hurt. I'm late. It accelerates the pace. Corro. She is there in front waiting for me.
"I'm sorry. Bon Jovi playing there. " I think it's a good excuse. Will use it more often. Let's go. The restaurant is huge. A waiter definitely homosexual who poses as if in fact it was even more, there is place in a secluded area of \u200b\u200bthe room. I order a salad as a starter - "Do not plan a portion, please. A normal, thanks "-, spaghetti, and two glasses of red wine. Her ice cream. When the waiter returned, holding in his hand a field of lettuce, carrots and tomatoes . Fuck! Good thing I brought the mower and rake. The noodles are overcooked . Never get in an Italian restaurant to take anyone who tries to speak our language, saying, 'salami' and 'Grazzia'. Meanwhile, she has abandoned the climb that mountain of snow-covered ice cream and chocolate. The reading of my soul shall creandomi many embarrassments. I speak of this and that and not much else because my mathematical culture has somewhat decreased over the years. Miraculously, I can finish the plate of spaghetti. The glasses of wine from two became four, but the fate is the same. It's time to make a decision. So I know how it ends.
"Want to go for a drink", I ask? She nods her head. I smile, stupid for the most part by the gargantuan meal, I get up and go to the bathroom to fix a thing. A guy in his seventies, intent on draining vehemently a prostate sufferer, he turns to me and mutters something unintelligible that it does sganasciare laughter. It also sketches a lock on me and I more beautiful. Once the logistical operation, I settle my hair, I'll wink and I'm ready for my triumphant return. What I see, however, will not let me taste the ultimate victory: she is next to him and seems to be talking animatedly. I approached cautiously. The guy turns around.
"You have to be David." They found me, dammit!
"Yes, hello, pleased." Reach out my hand as I was taught. "And you're ?""****, pleasure. **** Told me last night. You were a great, few would have done the same for you "
" But no, I figured. It is because I am Italian, you know. " What an idiot answer, but I thought just now. "Are you also Israel?". I seem to recognize the accent.
"Yes, ****". Ah, from the city of ****. How strange ...
"What are you doing here in New York?"
"I am here to work. A couple of months, "
After the brief introduction, she takes him under his arm, and moving toward the exit, states with a" Ok, we have to go. We'll see "the end of the evening. I remain bewildered there for a few seconds, then close the jacket, put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the hotel. It is said that curiosity is a woman, but you can see that in my case is an exception. As soon as I enter the room, I connect to Facebook and I put her name in the search. It takes me slightly to find it, given that the personal information in my possession did not find an exact match. I read a profile in "Married to". And guess what 'who is the husband? The next day I
storm of phone calls and messages. To which I say not. Insults me as well. What can I say ... I'm sorry for him, horned platonic. I feel sorry for me, a fool taken for a ride. I'm sorry, but not so much for her, and not an idiot Dostoevsky, because only an idiot can planning a tryst at his favorite restaurant in New York. Do not do moral judgments. Do not I can afford, but even I have my values. Sure, some would argue, to Woody Allen, who are a notch below those of an insurance agent, but in any case, there are. And most importantly, I do not like a person omits material information relevant to say .... That said, everyone, once it slips under the covers and turns off the light, must come to terms with his conscience. Unfortunately, due to alcohol, I will find one that mumbles and do not understand what he wants to tell me never . Patience and health. Good week to all!
