Forget me NOT!!!!

This page is dedicated to people and places, with whom my life intersected only ephemerally; If you’re on here it was fun ūüėČ

I don’t really know where to add the most recent people I never want to forget…. at the top or at the bottom…. for now I think ill do the top..

Childhood mystery Italian….

When I was in third grade my two friends and I would pick on this little boy. One day he responded to something we had said, “I know why you pick on me, my mom said it’s because you like me.” I remember saying no. Then my fellow third grade pal, pulling me aside later to tell me that she thought he was cute. He was Italian, but I can’t remember his name.

The Guy from South London that I met in Prague

We made a connection when he told me that he had ordered goat’s horn at a restaurant because it was a ridiculous name, and he was expecting to get a giant goat cock on a plate. It ended up just being pizza with goat cheese, a bit of a¬†disappointing.

Also, I loved his nose.


I found her tied to a post with a sack of food, she had been there all day. The bar owner was going to kick her out if nobody claimed her. So at 3am little Pepa came home with me to the alameda de hercules in Sevilla. She was mine to love for 3 weeks until I had to give her away because I had to return to America. She taught me that puppies are like babies with really really sharp teeth.


My Spanish Puppy!

$uck it!

$uck it, a boy I hope not to forget because our little encounter lasted longer than expected (in a good, hilarious way). I met him a couple of days before 2011 at a hostel in Edinburgh. I saw him again a couple of hours into 2011 at a bar wearing a¬†Scottish¬†kilt (he is Spanish), we ended up at some hippie party where he told me he was a doctor (which I didn’t believe but I¬†figured…what the hell when in Europe, be nonchalant….) After our fun little tryst we tried to meet up again in Edinburgh before I left but it just didn’t happen. And soooo I returned to my life in Sevilla only to find out about a month later that little $uck it was now living there too! Thus, our little moments of fun continued until he left for the north of Spain. ¬† ¬† ¬†I think he was far more mature than me, though I’m 3 years his senior; another quality I greatly enjoyed is that he was very European ¬†in that he sometimes wore scarves and rolled his own¬†cigarettes.

Ripped Jeans, aye?

During my last quarter at UCLA, aka oooookla, I took an art class, in which I met a very interesting character RJ, Ripped Jeans. RJ always wore overly trendy, excessively ripped jeans and thought abstract art was always the work of a preschooler….. fair enough… in some cases. He also, asked out my friend J several times by following her (sometimes on her way home). It turns out J was not the only victim of RJ’s infatuation. In fact he spent hours on end at dining halls going around tables asking women out; went around floors in¬†dormitories knocking on all doors. If a male answered he apologized for knocking on the wrong door, whereas if a female answered he informed her that he was introducing himself to all the girls on the floor……

German Girl at Hostel in Cork, Ireland

My friend Ben and I met this girl while I visited him in Ireland about three years ago. She told us all about her crazy travels. I don’t remember much except for the part about her being low on money buying a roasted chicken, hitch-hiking, having a man in a white van stop for her; it turned out he had a glass eye!

In Ireland (Galway this time) Ben and I also met an Australian orthopedic girl. She was NUTS in a great way! She was 30, I think. We passed some men running a marathon and one of the two things I remember were her saying “Look at his legs, they’re sexy!” in her¬†Aussie accent. My second memory is her telling me about some crazy smoothies she had in Taiwan….


I don’t mean Michael Jackson. MJ was my first love. I gave myself completely the way you can the first time that you love someone. It ended terribly, both of our faults, but I have great memories. He taught me the phrases bajingo and tatas, among other things. One of my favorite idiosyncrasies of him was that he kept anything that would fit in his wallet to¬†commemorate¬†a special moment and person. Also, he said “awh, Mate!” when he liked something. All in all he just has a great personality one that people are drawn to: he was once fired for jumping on a bed on his first day of work. Despite everything else, that’s how I want to remember him. (Correction, that’s mostly how I want to remember him. This is not to sound malevolent but to understand that he helped me grow, so¬†I also partly remember him as that asshole who found new ways to treat me like shit, and I’m not that weak girl anymore motherfucker…. but mostly good feelings)… he belongs in the¬†Monsier le Poo-say category of men. Just sayin’.

Isa ma joba and other Italians…

The Italian cab driver who helped us find our way to Phillip’s house, where we were going to drop off our bags. When we thanked him he declared, “ah, issa ma jobba!!!!”

Italian #2 is Ima ana italian boy…. he was a busdriver (I’m guessing he still is) on the Amalfi coast. Again with Katie, we missed the last bus. Upon being encouraged by several taxi drivers we decided to have the bus driver take us home. He seemed very unenthusiastic at the idea of taking us to our hostel…. so I figured we’d be safe. I climbed into the back and Katie into the front. Quickly it became clear that he had no idea where we were going. He also began asking for Katie to give him a kiss, or 10 minutes alone which he later decreased to five minutes… For a minute there I thought I had learned the meaning of “Stranger Danger”¬†but the fact that we made it home okay didn’t quite let the lesson stick….

I also want to add that we got into his car because earlier a lovely woman, whom we named Pauola, rescued us from 3,000 steps and gave us a ride down to Amalfi, she didn’t try to kiss either one of us.

Side-note, it was great to walk around Italy, I mostly remember this from Rome, and hearing “Mama Mia!”

The girl that punched me…

Whenever I mention that I got punched in the face, people’s first response is “Did you deserve it?” Ummmmm No! and I resent the question!

Anyway, this kah -ray-zeee girl punched me for bumping into her boyfriend. She later rallied the local police and somehow my two friends and I were¬†CARRIED out of the concert, not walked out, but carried over a fence, while everyone cheered. (they were cheering because I had pulled my friends to the front when we had come in late… yes I know it’s obnoxious but… what’s done is done).

My favorite part of the story is that one of my friends was crying, screaming it’s because we’re American, while the other was hitting on the cops that had just kicked us out….

Happiness,  Love And Other Funny Feelings, Adventure


3 responses to “Forget me NOT!!!!

  1. I like these, Rosie. ūüôā

  2. Youuuuu! Thanks!!! ūüėČ

  3. Aww…Rosie. ūüôā

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