As many of you know, the single joy of my Thursdays is reading the new "I Saw U's" in "The Stranger." I enjoy the hunt of looking for an I Saw U directed to me from an actual stranger, even though I come up empty-handed week after week.

I've always had an odd, voyeuristic attraction to reading personal ads. Before our shifts started at Bella Nina's, Scott and I would always grab sodas and sit in a booth to read the weekly's personal ads and share laughs guessing if they were M4W, W4M, M4M, W4W, transsexuals, post-op, etc.

Today, I was all smiles when I read an I Saw U directed to Bill Gates. It's the next best thing if I can't read one directed to me.

BILL GATES THE SWELL SEASON

I saw you there! Hanging out in the lobby with Melinda. It made me feel better about humanity that you simply wanted to see The Swell Season and that you sat in the balcony. Here's to more great concerts Bill!

When: Monday, November 5, 2007. Where: The Moore. You: Man. Me: Man. #907915

Paolo Does Europe - Sept. 11

Editor's note: Paolo wrote nearly incomprehensible comments on the evening of his Tuscany Chianti tour. WIB provides them to you unedited.

Went to first winery Strategically sat at a table only half-filled. So drank twice as much wine Coincidentally, broke glass at table. Bowed to standing applause. My company at table Marine family. Eldest man had 30 yr career. Younger man is son in law, 4 yr Marine career. Now gov't contractors. $7-8 million a yr. Everyone on the bus is very drunk now. Only halfway thru tour.

Paolo Does Europe - Sept. 10

I am in Florence, and tonight I nearly died. The coroner's report would have read: "Cause of death: Overeating."

I hadn't eaten well since Cinque Terra, and I mean really well, so I decided tonight would be the night. As is the case with nearly every first night in a big city, I don't know anyone, but going out alone is the best time to dictate how much to spend on a meal.

I ventured out early for appertivi, which rocks here. A drink (I had Campari) and all you can eat muchies for just $6E? That's a deal.

For dinner I went to "Yellow Bar," a place recommended by "Lonely Planet" aka the travel Bible. I ordered a spicy marinara pasta. That him the spot. I was only disappointed because I felt I could have easily made the same dish. The accompanying Chianti wasn't great, but it was the only red wine served by the glass. I could have of course ordered and drank a bottle, but I didn't want to look like a total drunk -- not on a first night in a new city. Maybe night two. First impressions are important, after all.

After cleaning the plate with a couple slices of bread, it was onto dessert. The gelato I had an hour earlier just wasn't fulfilling my sweet tooth quota.

I ordered creme-filled crepes with dark chocolate topping. This dessert could kill. It was served hot and the chocolate nearly burned my mouth. But it was heavenly, and I'm not even a dark chocolate person. It was the kind of dessert that made you say "Whoa" at first taste and "Whoo" at last bite. Think "When Harry Met Sally," if Meg Ryan were being sincere. I topped off the meal with cafe and topped off a liter of water.

I got up and I did NOT feel good. I now understand why gluttony is a sin. I could barely walk, and I had a long walk back to the hotel. The last time I felt this way was when I visited Gramps and Grams in Palm Desert a few years back. We went out to dinner and I ordered jambalaya. The portion was huge, enough to feed Mardi Gras paraders for a day, but I was determined to complete the feast -- if only for the challenge. I succeeded, kind of. After dinner I sprawled over the back seat of the carand whimpered like a puppy getting its tail stepped on -- and that was us just leaving the parking lot.

So here I was again, stumbling back to the hotel, drunk on carbs, weaving through the streets of Florence. The only thing that kept me from passing out in a food coma was the sheer pain of my stomach.

I looked down at the street as I walked. Food lined the windowpanes of nearly every shop and the sight of more food added to my pain and nausea. Burping provided some, temporary relief. With each release of air I could literally see my swollen stomach recede by the quarter-inch.

I eventually made it back to my hotel. Of course, I am at the top floor. Somehow, between my belly and strained hamstring I recently developed, I made it to the top floor. I passed the common room where I see an Aussie girl eye me. Maybe it's my good looks, maybe it's my pregnant stomach. No time to to make a play for it. I need to get off my feet and sleep.

I am now in bed ending my chronicle for you, my dear friends, as my stomach slowly kills me.

Big ups to Sabzi, winner of the Red Bull Big Tunes 2007 national championship. My photo is the shiznit. Yes, I said shiznit.

I am now on the Holiday Planning Team at work. And it's absolutely no different than the Party Planning Committee on "The Office."