Super hero power problems and Cinquanta Centessimi

Hey you guuuuuuys

How are things chaps? Well, I assume. I know this leaves me open to be being called an ass, but it also makes an ass of you. So there.

I'm tired. I played football on Friday night with Patrick and his friends, and never before has there been such a display of technical wizardry and all round footballing genius. Unfortunately, none of this was coming from me, and we lost. As of yet, I don't have the skillz to pay the billz, and at 27 I'm starting to think that my destiny of playing professional football may have passed me by. Still, I could probably get a game for Scotland, as apparently you're never too old for that.

At an office I teach at I was idling away before my student arrived and in the corridor there are name badges of all of the people who work there. The woman who works next to my student has the amazing name (at least for me) of Rosalba Panico. Translated, this means Pink Dawn Panic. What. An. Amazing. Name. It sounds like it could be the name of a film featuring main characters based on Sarah Palin-types who fear a homosexual revolution. If this film is made, you read it here first and I want money for the name/concept.

Although I'm a hugely busy serious youngish person, I occasionally drift off. The burning issue that was occupying me the other day, as I'm sure it was with you, is this: If your super power was flight and you flew out of an enclosed space, surely you would really damage yourself. I mean, if you had only one super power (and flight is of course the best) and you had to escape from an enclosed space quickly like from inside a building or bus/train, you would really injure yourself when you hit the roof/wall. Often super heroes are shown blasting out of bank vaults under the sea or similar tricky situations. But if you only had flight and not super strength, after you said your witty catchphrase (e.g. "smell you later") and then tried to take off through the roof, you would always need a good amount of boost to break through the roof. But presumably you'd mangle your arm and your head when you hit the roof? This has made me doubt the veracity and reliability of super heroes.
As you are also no doubt doing, I'm now re-evaluating which super power I'd choose. Although perhaps because I spent so long thinking about this and have just written about it too, maybe my super power should be appearing interesting and ungeeky to women. It's quite a pickle. Flight would be nice though, saving me the ordeal of Ryanair.

And now, on to what is likely to be one of the few cultural difference type moments ever in this blog. In Italy they have words to describe ladies of the night of dubious merit, which I'm led to believe are troia, puttana or in Genovese, bagascia. However, these words also have the same significance as bitch in English, i.e. a woman that has wronged you in some way. So, one of the above Italian words means both bitch and prostitute in English, which as you know Dear Reader are different things (although not exclusively). Obviously I never use these words and will wash my eyes and brain out with soap for even looking at/thinking about such crudités. But it leads to misunderstandings if for example I were to talk about someone who I once knew but then upset me grievously and I described as a b!?@%. To the locals with their frankly foreign ways, this'd suggest that I have known prostitutes in the past, which I deny. And in return, when Italians want to say one of these words in English, they invariably plump for 'bitch' which makes them all sound like gangster rappers, albeit with a comedy Italian accent: "Een eeffect, eye waz woking een thee street toursday and eye so a beetch."

Time to go and make my pizza base, so until next time

Ciao ciao