My god it's all so lovely when you can go out and it's a Wednesday and the sun is shining down like golden buttah and you're 23 and brown as toast, sitting outside at a quaint little trattoria with Alberto Moravia, who wants to write a screenplay for you --
molto piacere as long as I don't have to crawl out of another freaking coffin or come oozing around the side of another marble column!
Prego, cameriere, another bottle of Valpolicella --
affretatevi, if you please! Federico may be calling!