Superbowl Sunday: When Football is What it is

I've been powering through my cold in order to go out and be social. As long I'm fueled up on Ibuprofen, I'm okay. And if I missed the chocolate fair because of a silly cold, I never would have forgiven myself. I probably have the biggest sweet tooth on the planet. Cake, cookies, ice cream, you name it, I love it. But at the top of my list is chocolate. Give me a block of dark chocolate, and I'll work on that thing like a dog chewing on a bone. Needless to say, the festival was heavenly. Entering the tent was like climbing the stairway to heaven that Led Zeppelin so sweetly sang about. The scents of truffles, chocolate covered everything, and melted chocolate wafted through the entire place, sending my senses into a frenzy. I sampled chocolate liquor, chocolate covered orange peels and got the most delicious cup of melted dark chocolate I've ever tasted. If I died at that moment, I would have died happy.

And even though Paula and I were still full from the chocolatey goodness, we later went to a bar called The Joshua Tree (which we have at home), and then to arguably the best pizza place in Florence. We ordered a pizza with artichoke, ham, and cheese that melted in your mouth as soon as it touched your tongue. We could barely speak to each other, it was such an experience. Almost spiritual. To continue with our gluttonous day, we found a bakery where I got a connoli that convinced me that I can never go home. I don't know what kind of drugs they slip into these foods, but I need to take some back to the States.

After happily walking back to the apartment with a glow that only comes from the enjoyment of a fantastic meal, we got ready to go out to a club I have mentioned previously, called Space. It was impossible to just dance alone and enjoy the music. Creepy Italian men kept skulking around us, circling like predatory animals. I wouldn't have minded had they just watched from afar, but they swoop in and grab you with their sharp claws. An Italian guy even approached while I was dancing with an American boy I met named Nick. He seemed nice, so I thought a dance would be fine. But the whole time I felt numb. My mind was somewhere else and no matter how hard I tried to push the thoughts away, they kept re-entering. Finally I said I needed to rest and left Nick to find someone who might actually be interested.

But even when Paula and I were just dancing together, men kept penetrating the bubble. One guy just crept up on her from behind and started moving his hips. She asked me what he looked like and I said, "You don't want to know." Needless to say, he wouldn't be anyone's type. We tried escaping to the downstairs area but that was the same situation. Even after leaving, in the streets some guys got way too close to me, touching my arm and cat-calling. I guess this is something I'll have to get used to, but it just really sucks. I like to go out and have a good time and meet and converse with people. To have guys treat me like some candy bar they'd like to unwrap is just disgusting, especially when they actually tell me what they want to do to me. No, that doesn't get me in the mood, it just makes me want to take a baseball bat to your head (which I'd enjoy because baseball season has been gone for far too long).

And with Superbowl Sunday just a few hours away, I want to immerse myself in American sports, no Italian creepers allowed. So what do you say we head to a bar and watch some guys throw the old pigskin around? Go Colts!