You've Been Bamboozled

I believe that is blackface.

Say hello.

What Means the World To You

My Cheri Amour,

If I find them, they're yours.

Tell Em Why You Mad Son

This weekend, I was forced to do the neck roll, eye roll, eyebrow curl, and finger snap. "Excuse me!"

I went with my roommate to get a leather bag. She bought one and after she saw mine (biter), got the same one in a different color (cough cough. any similarity to anyone else I know is completely fictional).  I agreed to go with her back to the first store to return the bag.

She wanted to act like she didn't know English.. Pah-leaze lady. Then she went on some rant about her time being wasted in her books, whatever that means. My roommate didn't seem to be getting anywhere with the conversation so I thought I'd help. I asked the woman if there was a sign in the store saying that there were no returns or exchanges; there were plenty of signs but I don't speak or read Italian, clearly. She said no and to that, I explained that my roommate was entitled to her money back. 

Frustrated that I was right, she shook her ol' fat head and went next door to get the manager, or whatever he was, I don't really care. He went behind the counter and was giving my roommate back her money from the cash drawer and lecturing her. At this point I was just through with the unnecessary back and forth. Like..you got your money, let's go. Wanting to have the last word, my roommate told the man they should put a sign in the door to which he responded rather loudly with a pointed finger in her face as he stepped closer, "You don't teach me." 

The big black bad wolfess that I am stepped to him (yeah, stepped) and told him he didn't need to raise is voice and we weren't having that. Again, acting like he didn't understand he turned his attitude towards me. "Oh no, have a nice day."  He proceeded to follow us out the door and I abruptly stuck my hand in his face "Talk to the hand because the face don't understand leave a message at the tone, beep."

I didn't actually say that but the gesture was enough. He got the point.

I Find Myself in Love Racing the Earth

And I'm soaked in your love

And love was right in path in my grasps

And me and you belong

I wanna run, smash into you..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PuOHjDcYyXY

Tonight, We Dine in Heaven

Don't Ask For Soulja Boy at the Karaoke Bar

We went to a karaoke bar tonight after the fireworks for some Saint holiday. Being the songstress I am (thank you thank you), I went up to sing. As soon as I walked up there, the DJ said "no rap".

... what?

Lonely Girl

They don't understand her. They come from different parts of reality, even though they share the same here, foreigners. They don't care to include her, that which is different from themselves. Instead, they stare at her from across the lunch table and wonder why she never says anything. And when she does, they look but don't listen.

They talk through her, as if any contribution she would have would be fabricated, completely made up just so she can say something, anything. They are right though. She never uses the shortening of never shortened words such as, "vom" and "script", at least not in her normal speech that creates its own words and gives existing ones alternate meanings.  When she says, "wrap" they rave about chicken caesar.

They do understand her.  They come from the same parts of reality, and share the same here, foreigners.  They include her, that which is different from themselves. Instead, she stares at them from across the lunch table and wonders why they always say everything. And when they do, she looks but doesn't listen.

General Consensus

See link for more grammatically correct interpretation

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9306jTZuU5k

This is What Happens When You Fake

We took a trip to Florence yesterday. It's pretty far from our Villa, so after our tour, we got back on the 7 bus. When you get on, you are required to stamp your bus ticket at the stamp bus ticket station on the bus or you have to pay a fine. Sporadically the cops will come on the bus and ask to see your ticket to make sure you aren't trying to steal a ride to your final destination. We didn't stamp our tickets the first time; we didn't even have tickets to stamp. This time though, off of some whim or some necessity to be an abider of the law, we stamped them. The cops got on two stops later, one on the front and one on the back, and asked each of us individually to see our bus tickets.

So there was this white lady. She hadn't stamped her ticket before when she decided she deserved a seat on the bus more than anyone else. She could have it, whatever. When the cops came on, she decided to rush to the stamp machine and stamp her ticket, trying to be slick. The cop stood in front of her and asked what she thought she was doing. She tried to pull the excuse that she wasn't aware of the rules of the bus ticket stamp and was going to do it now. He told her "too late". She held up the ticket to him and said she didn't understand it because it was in Italian. He asked if she could read English. She said yes. He took out his ticket book and fined her 45 Euros.

The ticket reads:

Da convalidare al momento della salita sulla prima vettura, conservare integro fino alla discesa ed esibire al controllo. Ll biglietto non e cedibile dopo la convalida.

To be validated on boarding the first vehicle, retained intact until alighting and shown on demand. After validation the ticket is not transferable.

SLAM!

Just Call Me Michelle

Between yesterday and today I've heard, been told, and asked some things while not unbelievable, unbelievable.

I've been called Michelle Obama, twice. 

If I was only a foot taller and 60 pounds heavier, maybe.

When asked where I'm from and I said "New York", Italians responded "Obama".

He's from everywhere in America apparently.

I've been asked to my face "where is Daisy*" in asking about Sade*, the other black girl, a light-skinned black girl with natural curly hair whom I look nothing alike, responding with my hand raised "right here". "Oh", she says, "whose the other girl?" 

Typical.

 

When a reggae song came on that I knew the words to, my roommate asked "Dahlia who is that!?" I said I didn't know. She says, "Dahlia, come on you don't know!? How do you not know?" 

I should know all things colored.

Susie* informed me that when she gets drunk she puts on a Southern accent. She does it very well actually.

I hope she does it all the time. Seriously.

Katie* asked Ruma* "where you are from?" She said, "I'm from New York". The other says, "Okay, where are your parents from?" She responds, "I'm Indian if that's what you're asking."

If you look foreign, you are.

*Parties involved asked that their real names would not be used.

Thank you, Starbucks.

For making me look completely American. We took a  tour of Fiesole today, a five minute walk up the hill from our gate. A group of us decided to stop at a corner store, something they call a bar. The cashier said something to me in which I asked my roommate, "what did he say"? He smiled at my confusion. I looked at the menu on the side and saw Latte 90, meaning 90 Euros. Now lattes are what I always get at Starbucks, a tall vanilla latte with extra caramel sauce and whipped cream. So I ordered one. I moved over to the pick up station and waited for it. The cook put a class of warm milk in front of me. I looked at the people I was with to ask if they ordered a glass of warm milk. Clearly, I was the only one who didn't know because they confirmed it was mine. Now, if you know me, you know milk is near the top of my list of things I hate along with tomatoes, raw onions, and coconut. I just looked at it. My RA told the cook in Italian that I actually meant to order a Cafe Latte. The cook looked at me, rolled her eyes, and brought over a shot of expresso. She what I believe reprimanded me for my mistake, saying firmly "Cafe Latte". I imagined she said something like, "You Americans". I asked my roommate how to say "I'm sorry" in Italian, but could only manage to say "Gratzi". She gave me no reply. So thank you, Starbucks, for completely changing the substance of the drink without any indication of such on your menu.

A Room With a View

My window invites all of Florence into my room with three unimpressive beds, two large oak armoires, and one quaint oval oak table with three chairs, one for the each of us.  The screen permits warm breeze to cool me, only if I sit really really still.  If I press my face close enough to its grid, I get a wash of wind strong enough to move the front strands of my hair messily back. If I press my nose close enough to the barriers with eyes wide open, I smell greenery that makes my nose and eyes itch uncontrollably. Still, I’d prefer to sit perched on the messily painted white windowsill, listening to sounds I have yet identify.

 

My window gives me all of Florence in what I guess to be a 20 x 10 window frame. Paris, Africa, and Rome lie not to far beyond the mountains that paint the background dull and uninviting grey. But they tempt me anyways, me wanting to see if the beauty on the other side can amount to my backyard. Rooftops are at my choosing to count when I can’t sleep, 1, 2, 3, 4… Streets are hidden behind thick bushes and tall trees, sturdy buildings, parts of a cultures history I’ve come to study. I can’t see them but I know they are there and I will walk them, ride them, until I find gelato.

Destiny Fulfilled

Rather, story begun.. beginning.

I never felt something so meant for me, so purposely waiting for me to fill out my name, check my sex, and pencil my current address (there is no permanency in my location). Sure there were slots for other people, but one of the few had a reservation, a piece of paper taped to the front and back of the seat in the first row closest to the aisle, closest to the podium that read: Dahlia Bass.

Villa le Balze welcomes me with open arms and I'll bring a pen and paper to thank her. They will stand with her other housewarming gifts under the Tuscan sun.