March 22, 2017

Hope y’all weren’t expecting an interesting post today. Or a long one. The day started off incredibly, as all shitty days do. I woke up at a reasonable hour, and went to read on a bench overlooking the water. After about an hour, I came back to the apartment, showered, and prepared myself for what multiple people have told me would be the best pizza of my life. I got to the place, da Michele, around 10:30 because I was told there would be a line wrapping around the block by 11, the usual opening time. I was told incorrectly. However, the place did open after I walked around the block a few times and I stepped into a no-frills, typical looking pizzeria. There was nothing typical about the pizza. It was soggy in the best way possible, with fresh mozzarella piled high on a thin layer of some incredible tomato sauce. The bread was so soft and absorbent that the only way to get it in your mouth was to fold it into a taco shape (I very much do not condone eating American pizza like this. We’re not animals. But desperate times and all). I ate that whole motherfucker. The day was looking up.

On the other hand I do have a deep, dark secret that y’all better not leak until I make it out of Mafia country. And I’m not proud, but my tongue leads me more than almost any other organ in my body. And I can’t lie to all 3 of my loyal readers……. Chicago pizza is better. Don’t get me wrong, Napoli pizza was life-changing. But I would throw a ring on and a baby in Chicago deep dish if ever given the opportunity. Once, again just keep this to yourselves at least until I leave Italy so they don’t excommunicate me (if you don’t think this country is a religion, then you have not been reading very closely).

However, by the time I waddled my way back to the apartment, I was starting to get sore all over. Trying to ignore it, I threw in a batch of laundry and got ready to go back to the water. That was about the time that my head split open and unleashed a demon spawn who just kept chanting “Fuck you, I hope you die” repeatedly. Not wanting to interfere with the hellspawn’s interpretive poetry, I downed a bunch of water and tried to wait it out.

It is now 8 PM and it’s just starting to fade, and that’s only been marginal. Cooped up in the apartment all day, I considered that I should stop making boring plans because God clearly heard me think them in the Vatican and he was like, “Be careful what you wish for motherfucker.” (God definitely curses, if you were wondering. It’s all love though. That Dude and his Son basically invented wine.) This also may have to do with the unnecessary taunt to end yesterday’s post. Much like a Tootsie Pop, the world may never know.

Anyway, I leave you with that short summary of my completely miserable day as I endure chills under 4 layers of blankets. It hasn’t been all bad though. I was able to watch both of Dave Chappelle’s new specials on Netflix and I am currently halfway through Blow (shout out Johnny Depp before the past 10 years) Assuming I haven’t contracted some horrific disease, I’ll hopefully be able to sleep it off tonight and do something worth writing about in Venice tomorrow. If not, tell my parents not to bring my remains home and to just throw me somewhere in Florence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ok that would have been a super morbid ending. Uhhhhh, any suggestions for places in Venice?

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