I hate to be a product whore

But I love Proactiv. Love love love it. I'm going to write them one of those gushing customer emails about how my life is ten times better with their assortment of face washes and other crap they sell. It's crazy how happy I get just from having my skin be under control, and how much it effects my moods. Crazy crazy, like you could write a paper about this shit.

And in fact, someone already has. Studies have shown that people with severe skin problems tend to be more introverted, easily stressed, and go outside of their homes less. Describes me for the last two weeks to a T.

So yeah, I got my package, after the Italian government raped me and it for money and wrapping. Happy Sean. I'm so happy that I'm treating myself to steak tonight, even though it's a reckless financial decision. I want steak. Steak steak steak. Dead cow, in my mouf, yes please, gimme more.

Tomorrow is my midterm, and it helps that I have to study so much with the whole, "I'm not doing Italian stuff in Italy," lament I've been having. Transitive and Intransitive verbs are my culture conquest here, not statues that I've seen a thousand pictures of already.

Is it wrong that I don't like tourist attractions? I'm in what's regarded by many as one of the greatest ancient sites in the world, ruins everywhere, statues, busts, TONS of history, from Campo di Fiori to the leisurely figure of Trilusa, Piazza Popola to the Vatican Museum, Royal Museum, Collosium, Pyramid, etc, etc, etc, ad nauseum, and all I can think about when I'm in these places is how many fucking tourists there are standing around and gawking.

I see a beautiful statue and think, wow, that's a beautiful statue. I'm hungry. What time is it? Gilato time. Am I shamelessly American? Horribly apathetic? Overwhelmingly uneducated? I know what a great deal of these places represent, the history behind their construction, recreation, preservation, etc, but I just can't get into it.

I know Mustafa is reading this right now (if he's reading it) and gagging, or scoffing at me, or scoffing while gagging, in some kind of scoffgaggery that I've yet to see performed by man. I do have to say that Trilusa was a cool guy, as was Bruno. There's a couple of everyman-joe's who got thrifty with their pens (and in Bruno's case, burned alive for it).

I'm teaching my roomates how to play a card game tonight (after downloading three different sets of the rules and compiling them into the set of rules I actually remember), but I can't really drink while we play because of my fucking midterm tomorrow. Bitch is going to be hard. I'm not worried about the written part, so much as I am about the listening exercise. All of our listening exercises have used this CD where the characters talk ridiculously fast through some distorted medium, a telephone call with a bad connection, a noisey resturaunt, an office with copy machines in the background, and the two other girls in my class and I just stare like labotomized cats at this boombox, waiting for it to get easier.

I'm actually in an internet point across the street from the steak place I'm about to go lavish my tongue at. I keep looking out the window to see if they're open yet. There are so many little things Americans take for granted that would throw an unexpected wrench in one's plans without being aware. Resturaunts, for example, do not open until after 7 oclock. You can hit up pizzerias and panini shops, but most resturaunts close between lunch time and dinner time. Which is why I'm drooling in an internet point, staring at the sign that says i butteri. Just say that out loud, and tell me it doesn't make you want a steak. i butteri. I think my stomach is making noises at me now.

I caved and bought another American book, because as much as I love trying to read So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish in Italian, it gives me a fucking headache after a while. The way I've been doing that is going page by page through a chapter, highlighting words I don't know the definitions of, then making a list of the words, defining them, making flash cards, doing the flash cards for a while, then trying to read the chapter again. It's helping me build my vocabulary a lot, but I'm still somehow a total idiot in conversation.

I did make sure to add the words "bitch" and "treacherous" into my flash cards today. One never knows when they'll need to scream that into the night.

Sweet! They're opening!!! Steak time.

-Sean