MAYDAY MAYDAY

Last night we hung out with Gian Claudio again.....on a sidewalk at a beach spot called Portocello. My idea of a good night (Does sarcasm translate well in my writing?). I was pissed off and requested that we end the night early since we weren't doing anything I haven't done before. Chain smoking and sitting idly on a concrete bench? My Orange Country Norm.

I was feeling hostile and had an unfathomable amount of hatred for him because he kept us out so late last night. I put my mean face on...which isn't much different from my regular face, apparently. I had some guy in a bar today repeatedly ask me why I don't smile. I simply replied that I have nothing to smile about....which makes me sound like the huge bitch that I am but I've found that being friendly in Italy only translates to 'I want to fuck you', which I most certainly did not. He then told me to come sit at his table and he would give me something to smile about....Christ, even a nasty remark to these motherfuckers won't shake them off.

But back to Gian Claudio. So my pupils were shaped like daggers and I kept sending him my telepathic hate which prompted him to get all philosophical on my ass. He said in Italian that I am dark, like the night sky. I said, "Well aren't you just a motherfucking poet". Please, spare me the similies and metaphors. I kept up at the insults for a while and then I began to feel like an asshole. He couldn't understand what I said anyways, but I still have a heart....it may be as black as my lungs, but it's still a heart. Gian Claudio never stops dancing, like, ever....so I decided that I could heal his wounds that my verbal insults inflicted upon him by asking him for a Salsa lesson.

He gave me dancing directions in Italian, of which I didn't understand, so I butchered the Latin dance completely with my two left feet and stepped on his shoes too many times to count. I would have done this regardless of the language that was spoken, so I need to stop making excuses for my horrendous dancing skills. I was enjoying myself thoroughly for about ten minutes until Claudio decided to get smooth. He danced me about twelve feet away from Cortney so we weren't in sight and then put the moves on me. Can't say I didn't see this coming, only I really didn't. Gian Claudio practically pimps me out to all of his friends, so I really didn't think he was interested in me at all. I also have this theory that he has some weird incestuous feelings for Cortney, but that's just my fucked up mind working it's ways. When he tried to kiss me, I fucking lost it. Dude, I don't care if you're kind of goodlooking....if you are wearing a plaid shirt with ruffles that snake up the buttons and white jeans, it is never going to happen. So I said 'NO NO NO NO NO' and used all my body weight to escape his puckered lips all while laughing hysterically at the thought that he would ever try such a thing on me. He kept trying. Please, you have to give up some time. After the third try, he asked if we were still friends and apologized....all in Italian. We were never friends, you just happen to be lucky enough to buy all my drinks. Many thanks to Gian Claudio though for his wonderful dancing lessons....

GET ME OUT OF HERE. These men are incorrigible sex machines with greasy, groping ring-clad fingers. I miss my timid Orange County metal head boys who would never try anything on me. I miss being the one who makes the passes. Hopefully boys in Rome will be better. Actually, I'm done with Italian boys. If things go as expected, I will meet a beautiful American backpacker in Rome and we will makeout profusely on the Spanish Steps. This is unrealistic, I know. But hey, I actually saw a nice looking Italian guy today without the usual pink lacoste polo and faux-hawk hairstyle. I was leaning over a ledge, peering at the sea at Cefalù, and I spotted a pair of sperry topsiders on the beach. I've been seeing mandals and hideous Hogan tennis shoes for the past three weeks, so I had to see who they belonged to. The owner of these boat shoes fit my standards very nicely. Fuck, he was even rolling his own cigarettes with American Spirit tobacco and drinking a beer. My kind of man. So I devised a plan with Cortney to 'accidently' drop my sunglasses over the ledge near him. I thought this was a pretty clever idea, but I didn't think it out. What the fuck happens after he hands them back to me.....nothing, because Lexi has sunburn and lacks game. Opportunity lost. This is just the sort of Lexi-move that gets me all my boyfriends, or lackthereof.