Food Porn
Having just received the following e-mail message, I read it aloud for everyone in the computer lab to enjoy:
‘Hi Lianne, I am going to get a penis at 11:30. Want to come along?’ Continue reading
Italian Pants: A Photo-Documentary
‘Yeah I saw a player get pantsed on the field,’ explains my student, describing her spectatorship of an Italian soccer match. ‘I think that is pretty commonplace.’ She has just provided me with yet another reason to love il calcio. But depantifying the average Italian man is not necessary, for his basket region is often visibly evident through tight cloth wrapped around nutsack. The young man jogging toward me the other morning, for example, wore white rubber-like shorts with neon green arrows that pointed to his man-parts, complete with the command ‘Guarda!’ I sure did. ‘I wish I had my camera with me,’ I mused regretfully. Precisely then I was struck with a brilliant idea, namely the creation of the photo-documentary below. Clearly, I would need help to collect, classify, and provide statistical information about Tuscan leg wear and buttock display, not to mention crotch projection. Thankfully, the students in the Cortona Program were quite gung ho about this new project and performed the required research with enthusiasm, esp E, E, M, and S. This week, I began each class with the following probing question ‘Find any good pants?’ and ended with the command: ‘Don’t forget to e-mail me your pants!’ Please enjoy the literal fruits of our collective labour, which is designed to teach you crucial lessons about Italian cultural practices, and to show you what some fellow jackass tourists actually wear while traveling.
Death Drive
‘Holy shit!’ we shout in unison, as a truck suddenly barrels towards us on the sharply curving 1.5-lane highway. Me, Glam Pro, and her partner are somewhere in Tuscany—who the fuck knows where, really—in a Fiat 500. Luckily this zippy car is equipped with vomit bags which, like air bags, pop out of the doors during hairpin turns (in other words, every five seconds or so). After collectively hurling Continue reading
Italy is My Boot Camp
I can see binario 2 est in the distance, about two miles away. The race is on. A marathon-sized crowd rushes to get seats on the train from Rome to Florence, likely a rare commodity since the earlier train was cancelled, without explanation. ‘My fitness will pay off today,’ I confidently reassure myself, noting that half of my competition consists of old ladies, including one nun in full navy habit. Continue reading


