"Now you don't need me"

"Aw, I love it! Oh and it's 'Dov'e il bagno' -- so now you don't need me"
This was Danielle's response to my first post and despite it being adorable and educational, it poses the first of I'm assuming multiple issues for me, a husband/traveler.
Let's get a few things straight. Danielle is sarcastic. She is smarter than me. She has heard Italian spoken in her family (mom, Pucci) since she was a 'neonato' (excellent, I can say 'baby' . . . 'neonato' steps, Michael, 'neonato' steps).
I, on the other hand, am cynical. I am more impulsive than her. And I can't figure out what the damn difference is between 'bagno' and 'gabinetto.' Because if 'bagno' is bathroom, why does my Rosetta Stone lesson show me a picture of a toilet underneath 'gabinetto,' even though I'm fairly certain the literal translation for that word is cabinet. Either there's some linguistic finer points I'm not picking up on, the Europeans keep their hoppers in some weird places, or those Rosetta Stone bastards really want to see me defile someone's kitchen.
Back to the issue. She's being sarcastic. Clearly, I'll need her. But for a guy who's life revolves around the intricate manipulation of words, not being able to form a cogent sentence really irks me, and I come from a long line of men who hate being irked. So issue number one now becomes tackling a new language, one that is not the Spanish I keep reverting back to during my Italian lessons. And as I do this, try to prove to my wife I'm not an academic sloth incapable of grasping a few basic phrases.
I can only chuckle, though, because we're spending a large part of our trip in Paris and Switzerland. And neither one of us can ask where the bathroom is in French.