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Rome: part 1

By Dave Eadevic
March 6 2007

I was planning an article, it was going to be good, hell fuck the modestly it was going to be great, it would have had you on the edge of your seat wetting yourself in anticipation. There was drama, a little romance, some hot and dirty sex, the pulitzer
people were knocking down the door.... only it was cold, and I was dropped
in the shit work wise so I thought fuck it I am going to Rome.

So off to Rome I did indeed fuck.

Now I have a love hate relationship with Roma, I love the history, the
drama, the women, well not the fat ones but the rest of them anyway.

But every Roman in a car is trying to kill me, and frankly I am beginning to
take it all a little personally.

I have decided after a few years of practice that there is one safe way to
cross a road and that unfortunately involves Nuns.

Now I am not a fan of the average nun, ever since I was criminally looked
over in the roll for pope and had to sit around in the white dress I had
bought especially for the occasion, while some aging Nazi took the main
part, I have had me doubts about nuns, and after a quick watch of some porn,
these doubts have been confirmed, so to put your life in the hands of a
uniformed lesbian with a hidden dildo that she isn't afraid to use it, may
at first strike you as a weird choice of survival instinct.

But that is merely because you don't understand the average Roman driver.
Its not like a Roman driver wants to kill you, I mean heaven forbid its not
like they are French.

I mean they will kill you, but the first time they actually notice you, is
as a kind of squishy speed bump.

They are far to busy having sex, eating a sandwich, telling off someone in
the back seat often all three at the same time, to notice something as
insignificant as your good self crossing the road.

But no matter how occupied the average roman driver is, he will notice a
nun. Trust me on this, they may look pickled in vinegar but, it is your one
and only chance of crossing a road and still be breathing on the opposite

Assuming you live crossing the road (and frankly its a pretty fucking large
assumption) where are you going to go?

Well first and foremost you are in the worlds best city and you are fucking
about, in a cyber café, now giving you the benefit of the doubt, which lets
face matters you really don't deserve, but I am going to assume you were
cool enough to have read this before leaving home.

There are of course thousands of years worth of history to take in, the
coliseum, the Spanish steps, the palatine hill, the Vatican, but in my
experience these are generally crowded with fat Americans, and in the case
of the Vatican over populated with Nuns, which frankly by the time you have
made your way across the road, you have probably had enough of.

So what else is there to do?

Well there is always alcohol, I find it helps, so what I normally do is look
up my best friend from school, who now does something boring for Lazio, I am
not entirely sure what, he has explained it several times but my brain shuts
itself off in an attempt to stop it dying from boredom.

But it does mean I get a chance to kick a ball around the Stadia Olympico,
and pretend I am a footballer.

Now obviously I am not suggesting you all ring up my friend, as frankly he
is a little boring, but you can go on a tour of the stadium, its worth a
look and more to the point it is the one and only place in Rome, which is
fat American free.

Next there is the best museum in the world, which first I better explain the
history of:

A group of monks decided that when a member of their order died, the would
recycle the bones, and make things out of them, like coffee tables etc. Over
hundreds of years they got themselves quite a collection, and now everything
in the museum is made of dead monks.

Personally I am pleased I wasn't a monk in that order, as every time I had
the slightest sniffle, I cant help but feel there would have been a
quizzical look and the tape measure brought out.

But my best bit of advice is do what the Romans do, namely get the hell out
of Rome, about 20 miles away is the Lazio coast, where you can pop on a pair
of sunglasses and perve yourself away.

There is something about and Italian beach, dark women in a swimming costume
mainly made up of dental floss, does something for me, it always has, it is
always is likely too (given the benefit of Viagra anyway) so as far as city
guides go my one and only piece of advice is: avoid fat Americans, don't
bother with my mate and perve all the Italian girls, don't say I have taught
yee nowt.

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