Rome

One afternoon I was walking down Via Vittorio Veneto in Rome. I was listening to my iPod and walked past a few carabinieri, which I think are some kind of police but I only ever saw them strut around in their uniforms, which are very pretty. They motioned to me and being concerned that I was doing something wrong, I took out my earpods to talk to them.

Scusi? C'e una problema?
Non problema. E bellisima.

Right. So, after a little confusion, it was decided that the cutest one would take me to dinner later that night. Unfortunately the cutest one, was also the most non-bi-lingual one. So, in preparation, the things I bought were:
1. Gold Obi Belt
2. Necklace
3. Black camisole

We met up at 8 and walked over to get his car. This guy literally spoke NO ENGLISH and well, I spoke as much Italian as possible having started from scratch two weeks before. We talked about family:

Me: Fratello? Sorella?
Him: Si.
Me: OK

Work

Him: Que cosa fai?
Me: Non capsico
Him: (motions toward himself) sono carabinieri (points to me) e lei
Me: Oh, uh, lower level marketing pee-on at a satanical pharmaceutical company?
Him: Non capisco
Me: Publiccita (suddenly remembering the word for TV commercial, while gesturing as though I was making bread)
Him: Ah, attrice!!
Me: Not quite.

Music

Me: Gusta Simone Cristicchi?
Me: Oh wait. That's Spanish. Um, Lei...amore...Simone Cristicchi?
Him: ....
Me: Music bene o music male
Him: Ah, music!! (And he pulled out this mix CD that I swear they must hand out to every Italian boy when they graduate or something. It is a mix of the blandest, crappiest American music ever made and they ALL have a copy.)
Me: Oh, Bryan Adams AND Backstreet Boys in one place. What luck!

But dinner was the best I have ever eaten.