I was online searching for music, when a band popped up that I hadn't thought about in years-
"The Chromosomes". I was living in Italy a few years ago and made friends with a man who should be sainted, Fabrizio Berti. He worked for a radio station,toured with a blues band, and went to war torn former communist countries to bring music and teach music to kids who have witnessed the horror of war-as a way for them to express and heal.

anyways I sat in on some of his shows for "controradio" and would go see his band play. Now I'm not sure if he was trying to play matchmaker or what, but there was this guy who was in the studio one day, and who promoted punk shows in Toscana. Fabri sent me off with this guy, and because he was a friend of Fabrizios, I trusted him.

Well, I am working this punk show, and I start getting an odd vibe from the promoter. So I do as I always do when I feel like I am about to have to fight for my vagina-I start stealing all their whiskey and fanta.

we pack up and leave the show. and mr.punk promo takes me to a secluded parking lot between 4 buildings. which was bad-but then 4 of this guys friends come out of the shadows to meet the car. I am running every escape plan possible in my mind, and thinking of the whiskey bottle and cans of fanta.There is a sean penn movie from the 80s, where he puts cans in pillow case and fights his way around a prison.

the guys come to the car and start talking to me directly and I pretend I don't speak Italian. which was smart, because his idiot friends believed me, and before dumb promo guy could correct them. they asked him about his plan for me, and I believe they used the word "pecora" which is not good in a sexual context.

at this point the guy knows he has been had. I start screaming at him to drive-to get me the FUCK out of Pistoia...at this point I was more angry than scared, and coming unglued. as we make the drive back to Firenze, things were awkaward to say the least. He tries to apologize for his friends, etc. see what this guy didn't count on is the fact I wasn't a fresh faced "straniera", I had been involved with Enzo for over a year, and was frequenting another Italian during that time.

So he starts going into the whole "Ciao Bella" rountine. Which was ridiculous. Then tells me how if we have casual sex, it will be "a cultural experience"...ummmm, NO. I then read him the riot act, saying that I had been with one Italian for love, one for sport-and they were both on their worst day, better than him on his best day.

I mean I had sex with them,right?

Plus, assuming I am a clueless american girl who he can wow-bad move. I told him he was good-looking but he blew it.

Then I went up to my appartment in Borgo dei Greci and drank his whiskey. Then gave Enzo his Fanta.

ahhh, they joys of being a straniera.