(Photo: From little ole me, 7/10/06)Living two blocks from Little Italy, the lead-up to the World Cup final between the namesake motherland and France made for blue shirts and wild cheers. Our windows are ever open so the noise bounced through our apartment much like the horn honking and griping of the two old Italian women who lounge outside their apartment all day. Around 5:30 p.m., Italy won. Moments after I was in a standstill in a two-block orgy of nationalistic pride, exuberance, enthusiasm, and guys dangling dangerously off fire escapes. Wine bottles were shared, soccer balls were kicked to fans gallavanting on rooftops, Italian flags the size of pick-up trucks were flown and general beautiful chaos ensued.
And guys took every chance to grab girls's asses as they ran through the crowd. Because when on Mulberry...
(I was going to post a photo of the Italian Flag and ran "italy condom" through yahoo! photos with hopes of posting something playing off the idea that there was much coitus conducted in the name of celebration last night. The following was what I discovered. I present you with the file that is labeled simply, "condom_dale." Viva Italia, people.)
