guess who spent Easter eve in a police station?

i realize this needs a bit of explanation. 10:20 p.m., drifting off to sleep after a full weekend-duty saturday's work, anticipating the next full weekend-duty sunday's work, phone rings.
`yes mom, i'm sleeping'
`oh well..some policemen were knocking on our door - can you talk to them?'

awake now:
policeman: your scooter's in the process of being stolen, can you go downstairs and meet my colleagues?
me: uhhh..right now? scooter? where? yes, of course

short story: 2 guys were `apprehended' breaking my scooter and arested (thanks little old man across the way who called the cops). police send me back upstairs to get my documents (and to change out of pajamas) and drive me, lights flaring, siren blaring, in the back of the car (inside handle doesn't work, terrifying...no `seats,' either, just hard bench - this is where i think to myself this has nothing to do with my scooter and everything to do with unpaid tickets and expired papers.)

1:30 a.m. finally let go after filing report. oh, and i get to go to court. tuesday. all day. and yeah, the scooter is completely undriveable.

`ECCOMI' come?

tuesday night. 2:30 a.m. the beep of an MMS as ors and i are leaving the stadium.

unknown number: `ECCOMI!' picture attached.
ors: who the hell is that?
me: (typing) who the hell are you?
unknown number: sono Roberto da Roma!
me: silence
unknown number: pronto?
etc.

ors doesn't believe that a) i do not know RobertodaRoma and b) i do not give my number out to randoms (shut up, all of you)
in any case, have left RdR's number intact and attached, in case any of you feel like giving him a squillo.
(Editor's note: thanks to an early-morning transatlantic powwow, Operation Bug RdR is in effect. Please feel free to send a text, subject: Eccomi!. then post your efforts.)

25 years of blood, sweat and beers

talk about a swanky venue

`macche guest list???'

does that skull look a little `gangreenous' to you, flash?

ors and flash and `earlsie' at the abandoned stadium

playing hooky

love, shexam

these i think go in an errrrr category of their own

tripping on memory lane

little does mom know that little bundle of joy won't always make her smile so beatifically. but yeah, d always had a lot of hair



oh, nadia, no wonder there's a star named after you. like mother, like daughter, no?

YMCA, do it, do it NOW!

oh, and everyone's favorite pastime.

`yeah, i'm definitely in the wrong job'

a marti-ghieth reunion. complete with sheesha and career envy

`you don't even know'

this was weeks ago. ok, a week ago. first time it's `slushed' in rome in years. i shudder to remember