Roomie is now eating dinner in the kitchen with a relatively attractive and polite-seeming Italian man, whom I did not know would be coming over until this evening. Like an understanding roommate, I've shut myself in my room most of the evening to give her her privacy. When my bladder would hold out no longer from the three to four glasses of chianti I've poured into it tonight, I walked outside of my room to use the restroom. Yeah, I probably wasn't as lucid as I could have been, but I managed to do introductions without falling down or slurring, so, for me, that qualifies as a well-behaved evening. As I was in the restroom, I heard them speaking to one another in Italian. This is what I imagined them saying:
Roomie: Don't mind her. She's a bit of a drunk. Well-meaning girl, though. Pays the rent on time and buys toilet paper when I ask her to. She goes to bars a lot...and I mean a LOT. But as long as she keeps her undesirable men out of this apartment, I'm fine with it. Lovely pasta, by the way.
Italian guy: I had a roommate in Italy who liked the drink. He peed in my expensive leather satchel in the middle of the night.
Roomie: Hahahahaha! You Italians are so witty and charming. May I have some more wine?
When I go to the Bar that Shall Not Be Named, my Brazilian bartender/actor speaks Portuguese behind the bar to his shady, womanizing Brazilian friend. This is what I imagine them saying:
Brazilian bartender/actor: Jane's back again.
Womanizing friend: You should ask her back with you. She clearly wants you. Or give her...TO ME.
Brazilian bartender/actor: But she's had 13 Miller Lites tonight, and, frankly, she's a bit of old news around this joint, yes? And I'm more interested in the girl who taught my self-reflection class today at the academy. Maybe she'd like to take a ride on my motor scooter.
Womanizing friend: Maybe you can use Jane to get to her roommate.