"I came here to chase my dream, not run from the deaf boy in the speeding wheelchair."

Sigh. Kitty and I have survived and lived some of the most dreadful days and sleepless, unbearably hot nights in Southern Italy. Getting bitten by the mosquitoes, left and right, I finally invested in a bottle of OFF spray. The original plan was to go to Balestrate, Sicily, do work exchange, get sponsored, have the job, be happy, live in a beautiful villa, fall in love with a cubby. NOT.

7:30 am. I strained my eyes, looked at the time on my cell phone. I had to pee but held it in because I was too tired from the night before. Although Vageegee was crying, I dreaded walking down the dark, dingy hall, just to get to the damn bathroom. KITTY was at my side, purring, licking his penis, JAP slapping my face, sticking his arse in it, throwing his paws on his hips attitude-usual hints here and there, insisting that I feed him. I pushed his black hairy "FEED THE CHILDREN" poster kitty body away and hollered, "Wait one hour dude and take a chill pill!"

8:00am came and I knew I had to throw KITTY some kibble love. He had to have a big breakfast consisting of one part carbs at 8:00am and one part protein at 10:00am, snacks of protein/carbs at 2:00pm, 5:00pm and carbs at dinner time (8:00pm). I specifically catered this diet to him, in order to sustain healthy blood glucose levels. Two months ago, he was diagnosed with diabetes and amazingly today, the disease has reversed. I still stare at the two bottles of insulin and 300 syringes collecting dust. I managed to care for my cat on my own abroad- no vets, especially after they insisted there was no way that my KITTY was free of diabetes.

"Kitty and I were ready to roll."

I cannot forget the sleepless night prior to the day of the flight, I must have gone over the list in my mind well over a hundred times. Insulin. Check. Needles. Check. Tampons. Check. Medicine. Check. Lotion. Passports. Check. Check, check, check. Everything was in order for the life of a single woman, such as I and diabetic kitty living abroad in Italy for a good six months. As I packed, the sweat just rolled down my face like fountain water. Sticky and hot, I had no time whatsoever to shower, get cleaned up and get pretty. Pack, get KITTY ready, go to airport. I was dirty and felt gross, but Dirty & Gross were my two best friends for now and we had to get our asses to the airport. Pronto!

Drea, a friend of mine, arrived at my ghetto apartment in Bedford Stuyvesant Heights in Brooklyn, (It was a temporary thing). White teeth, a smile, a look to the left, a look to the right- eyes got bigger as she glared all around the room. "What the fuck are you doin' living here gurl?" as she smacked on gum and grinned. I replied, "Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girls gotta DO." Ten minutes later, we were off like two bats out of Hell making our way to the airport via a car service driven by a Jamaican man who had no clue what Air Europa was.

As we approached the horrendous line and joined the other hundreds of passengers, waiting to check-in, I realized THIS WAS IT. HOLY SHIP! Drea and I looked like two pathetic women dragging 50 kilos of Samsonite luggage and a diabetic KITTY, trying to escape from his pet carrier, gnawing at the cloth with his oversized snaggletooth fang, like a wannabe savage beast. I carefully unzipped the top of the carrier, catching a glimpse of his BOYZ RULE doo rag. The combination of the weight and unbalanced luggage, caused them to topple over, so we decided it was best to drag them, all the way up to the check-in counter, including KITTY and his hyperactive fang. What were two chicks to do?

 "I wanted to chill, enjoy the fresh Italian breeze, bask in the sun, find my cub. Instead I had to shop for stilettos I needed to wear while I worked at the disco for 80 euros."

 I could have used the money to get by. So, now I'm bartending here and there at random American Bars and discos throughout the Puglia region of Southern Italy to survive- pay the rent for my room, food, transportation and bills abroad in New York. I just remembered that I needed to buy high heels for the disco job. The long hours, endless Americanos, Spritz, Mojitos, hard work and humble money disappoint me, until I see the sun rise and shine its new light upon the tranquil turquoise waters of Monopoli and Polignano. The white sands whisper, assuring me there is something else out there, waiting for me to discover, as I let the granules slide between my fingers and toes. I think of time as the they dissipate into the sand and create something much bigger. I realize that time is lost, only to be found and that I must document every moment of it because my jar of Oil of Olay is not going to preserve it.

 I fixed my rearranged face and disheveled hair, slipped on my 5 euro flip flops, I proudly purchased at a discount store in Bari on Corso Sonno and headed to the bathroom down the hall, getting ready to release myself. Let the river run. As I stared at my raccoon face and disheveled hair in the smudgy mirror, I took my forefinger and wiped the excess makeup from underneath my dark eyes. "Who is this woman!?" I knew I needed to get myself together- maybe slap myself a few times. "Get it together girl!" I felt as if I've let myself go- just a tad. I miss the pedicures, blue toes, THE VAGINA PROFESSIONAL, (Brazilian waxes, ouch), the GYM, weekly hair blowouts, monthly visits to the dentist for a good teeth whitening. Ugh. I also needed to get laid, pathetically gazing down at Vageegee and shaking my head back and forth. "Don't worry babes. I'm gonna buy you a new pair of stilettos and find you love, somewhere over the rainbow. Okay, maybe not the rainbow, but just beyond the bridge in Bari.

"He was like a speeding bullet."

This was the bridge where the deaf boy, who reminded me so much of Timmy on SouthPark, wheeled by one hot night, using his two feet to pedal rapidly, big head, skinny arms swaying in the wind, as my friend Tamsin and I strolled down Via Savoia, eating gelatinos. At first I thought he was a pedestrian or a person riding by on a vespa or bicycle of some sort. Tamsin and I both realized at that moment that he was the same dude who harassed and nudged us to give him money, placing the "Deaf Man Note" onto our laps, as we drank cheap Peronis in the center piazza of Bari Vecchio. We both gave him a cold look, turned our heads and carried on with our conversation, as if he didn't exist.

9:00am. Back at The Big Brother apartment, I walked into the kitchen and my Scottish and British flatmates Roddy and Charlotte both told me that Lloyd, another flatmate), just left abruptly this morning at 6:00am on a flight back to Wales. It was a bit odd that he just picked up and went, but I suppose it was normale for a person such as him to do this. Lloyd is a great guy, but he seems to never embrace things and people around him. For example, he lived in Italy for a year and a half and couldn't speak the language. He did make it known, however, that he he particularly didn't like Italians. And ever since he acted like Michael Jackson at a bar in Bari Vecchio, after drinking everything in sight including two mojitos, a screwdriver, two glasses of wine and a pitcher of water, I knew instantly his lanky body couldn't keep up. "Heeee! Heee!" Wtf? What was that sound? Was it a bird? A child giggling? No. It was Lloyd's impersonation of Michael Jackson. The moonwalk and body moves kicked in and I came to the conclusion Lloyd was a dork. A cute dork, especially when he proudly stuck he's stomach out, smacking it, then demanding that the owner of the bar "Spank it! Noooo. Spank it harder!" I placed my right hand over my eyes. Helllll Noooooooo. Like HELLLLLLLLLLLLL NOOO. Who is this person? Charlotte and I split a bottle of pricey red vine. As we drank it and watched Lloyd make a fool of himself, we commented on how it was not worth the 18 Euros!

The 1,69 Euro wine we bought at the supermercati was a hell of alot better. We appreciated it so much, we took turns sticking it under our bunk beds-yes bunk beds, back at the hostels on Via Matteoti and at Serena, where we escaped from the poor working and living conditions. I will gladly use my blogger audience as a gigantic emotional sponge because that is what it is going to take to expunge the misery and fungus-like germs and scum Charlotte and I breathed in, as we cleaned rooms, made beds, mopped floors and moved furniture in and out of cat-pissed soaked rooms with dingy furniture, broken faucets, holey walls, wallpaper dangling off them, resembling a vagina on a one-legged chick, "The V wall" and sharing rooms with hostel guests from Slovenia, Germany, Brazil, Spain, Korea, Sweden and just about every place on the map. Our boss lured us to come here to Bari, with the promises of getting paid and provided good food every day. Instead, we worked for free, got little food, worked hard, couldn't sleep and this bastard named Francesco, who I gladly proclaim "STRONZO," a piece of shit, made black money running hostels he didn't own, profiting substantially as he paid no taxes, wasn't registered with the polizia, exploited us, moved us around to hide us from them, so they couldn't catch up to him. His day WILL come.

8:00pm. I spent most of the day walking 2 miles on average, walking past shops with Hello Kitty paraphanilia displayed in the windows, studying, doing laundry and all sorts. Roddy got home from work and headed straight for the kitchen. I decided to be social and say hello and see how his day went at work in Polignano at the real estate office. As Roddy went on and on about his day, I wondered why I still had not heard from my English student Angelo, who handles the finances for the European Funds, as well as Fabio, my sexy CouchSurfing friend who helped get me the disco job at Messeria Spina in Monopoli.

We talked about random things, such as the food caper who ate our food in the apartamento without asking for permission to do so. It was frustrating because many of us flatmates didn't have a job and we were hustling left and right. I didn't belong to Red Cross, so I really wasn't in the mood to move to Italy to feed other mouths probono a la carte! So, Tamsin decided to put a note on her cracker box, "DON'T EAT MY FOOD!" Roddy fessed up that an evil vortex power forced his hands onto most of the crackers and shoved them down his throat. He admitted to Tamsin that he sat down and prepared a note earlier that morning, then decided against it. We all sat there, shook our heads and laughed. Apparently, the food situation was handled and we all knew we each had to respect other's boundaries, including possessions, such as food, toilet paper, blah, blah, blah. Feeling a tad guilty and embarrassed, Roddy opened a bottle of red vino. "Who would like some wine?" I gave him my glass and replied, "I'll take just a little." Roddy and I always joked around with my comments, "I'll take just a little." A little more. Okay maybe four little glasses of wine.

"I wanted a sandwich and all I got was Sexting And A Panini."

The horny tingles came and my clitoris was shaking like Tina Turner on stage and I felt like a virgin all over again. I then froze and began to think. I was with the same penis and same man for 8 effin years. How could I even think of this other man’s penis? Maybe it was evil like Alien and a very very naughty Alien, trying to push itself into my world? Where was Segourney Weaver when I needed her to intervene and put Alien in place? A stranger putting his strange wandering hands all over me was unfamiliar.
As I read from my book, my flatmates were choking on their food, as they ate and laughed out of control. Tamsin was cooking chicken and rice Malta style, Roddy was sticking his nose in the air, taking in the fumes of her delightful cooking, Charlotte was slumped on the couch, with a cold towel on her head, trying to forget about the "one eye" headache, as I continued reading. Before I could get one word out of my mouth, Roddy spoke up. "I have a question about a vacuous vagina- Bulgarian Chick, Room 31." I looked at him and said, "Can it wait and is her vagina really that big?" From that point on, we talked about penises and vaginas and how humans respond differently to them. Was I the Penigina Whisperer and didn't know it? Hello Kitty...