About the title... We were talking to Pa at dinner and Disneyland was brought up. Pa said he had never been. Becky told him it was my favorite place and he couldn't understand. He felt that it is only a place you need to go to once and then you must kill the baby inside you. What he really meant to say was you release the inner child in you or something of the sort. Translating bad English poses to be quite the challenge.
Dinner with Pa. Oh what fun times those are. We sit down and he immediately starts talking to us. I love it because he will ask us how to say certain things in English and of course we ask him how to say many things in Italian. Then he said we could only speak in Italian, which was fun. I ate delicious huge round noodle pasta with spicy sausage. I also asked him if he knew what Prosecco was (a sparkling almost champagne like white wine) and he brought a bottle right over. It was so good! Then we moved on to red wine and by the end of a few hour meal Pa took 5 euro off the bill.
THEN…
We got ready to go out, which took us hours. It was eleven and we were just starting to drink. We all had a little bit. AND we were all wearing black pea coats with skirts and nothing covering out legs. Naturally we knew we were going to get some looks. We not only got looks, but dirty stares as if in their minds they were saying we were whores. I honestly wasn’t cold the whole night; I was perfect. I was wearing fishnets, but I doubt that made much of a difference. 
So we walk a long way to get to the place Elsie recommended and little did we know it would be filled with older Italian men and women. They were all hanging out outside and literally made a passage way for us to walk by. Obviously way too awkward for us to actually walk inside, so we kept walking. Only for us to get even more stares, whistles, hollers, ciaos, and the list goes on and on. I honestly don’t know what they expect from us? We were all feeling good so we would say ciao back on occasion. Then we got to a sketchy area and decided it wasn’t the best idea to ciao anymore. 
We finally got to Kukuya, a fun bar and had the tastiest dark beer I have ever tried. It was really crowded, but we say Chapman kids, which was nice. Then we left there and went into a club called twice. What an adventure that was. A midget Italian man hit on us and I was nice to him so he wouldn’t stop talking to me. Then we witnessed a disgusting drunk couple (obviously they had just met) making out right in front of the bathroom and then potentially sleeping on each other? Finally we decided to go in and dance. It was really fun… for a few minutes. Then drunk bitches and asshole guys kept hitting is and the fun was over. There always seems to be these important black men at every club we go to in really nice suits and one came up to me, grabbed my ass, and we danced for a bit. Definitely a great high light of the evening, I love me some dark chocolate. Then we decided to leave and this guy touched my as he walked by me, so I touched him right back then proceeded to run away like a little girl. That’s when the midget Italian started dancing with me. No thank you. So I ran away once again and Kelsey, Becky, and I left the club to find a secret bakery!!! (Just a few tidbits: we almost witnessed two fights: Becky and I walked right through the first one where two guys were yelling in each others faces and then I got punched in the head by a black man because of a drunken Italian woman.) One thing to note: don’t trust Becky’s directions when she is drunk, but all other times trust her one hundred percent. We find the bakery and its so sketch. There is a sign saying be quiet and a door that opens every few minutes to take the next order. We could either get chocolate croissant, cream croissant, or pizza. We got all three, duh. It was so yummy. Then we walked home and now its time for bed! 
Side note: we also decided as of yesterday that we are going to start saying “no grazie” to men that are all up on us. They don’t seem to mind it but the next time a guy drives by in his car and shouts at me, I am going to put my finger in the air (you know which one) and yell no thank you in Italian. That’s right I’m sticking it to the man.
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