Mi Espeedo (My Speedo)

My wife and I are in Italy.  Other than sitting down to dine, or walking hand in hand for miles absorbing the cuisine and menu sightseeing, we really haven’t acknowledged one another.

Originally planning to update my daily Italian food blog, I have bumped into a few obstacles on this trip to Rome and other neighboring cities.  Gluttony, Sloth, Extreme Gluttony, Sloth, Premier Gluttony, Sloth and Epic Gluttony.  Behold, my seven Italian traveling sins.

After squeezing in a few extra morsels of anything that ends with a vowel movement, we additionally manage to crawl to the local Roman Colosseum, and Pantheon for some historical sightseeing.  They all make you think of your next meal, for it could be your last.  (Even though my wife is tagging along, since we are too busy to talk while eating and sleeping, she is merely a white Alfredo shadow sauce of myself.)

At this point of our journey, I can only explain my culinary exploits by means of a Speedo.  The Speedo salesmen around these parts are not profiting from the likes of me.  Shares in the Speedo market have plummeted twenty percent since my arrival.  Each time my wife asks me to finish her meal, that’s one more Speedo I won’t purchase simply since they don’t carry a “control top” variety.

Chow

 

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