Saturday 23rd February
Went down to the postbox to check the post and lo! There was a card from my long lost sister Laura. At first I was like "whose writing is this?" because it has been so long since I heard from her and then I saw the address and I was delighted. Opened it up to find it was a Christmas card. Laughed my head off the whole way up the stairs. Just when I thought things couldn't get any better I opened the card to find a lovely crisp note in it. Woo hoo! Immediately I planned an underwear spree, much to Eddie's dismay, but I ignored his voice in my head saying "go to Michael Guiney's" as nary a sensible knickers will caress these cheeks, oh no. It's 15 snots a piece scanties for me Eddie - don't try and change me!
Dedicated my day to menial tasks (which are secretly my hobby) and was just pottering about in a great mood, enjoying the scent of my luxurious fabric softener and daydreaming about the upcoming underwear spree when I inadvertently did the most amazing thing I have ever done in my life. I am STILL in awe of myself. Roommate and I were in the kitchen chit-chatting when I (are you ready for this) MADE A JOKE IN POLISH. And not a joke that you learn off and that has a punchline, oh no! It was a PUN! A PUN! Ha! A pun on the Polish word for "approach" which can also mean "sexual intercourse".
I know. I'm awesome. I inspire awe.
Suddenly developed a strong urge to buy a giant cake and eat the entire thing. Went over to Lidl and bought a giant Chinois (inspires taste bud orgasms) and sat down and made a fine dent in it. I foolishly thought that if I just ate the thing then the craving would be gone. WRONG. Head to bed, confused by paradoxical yearnings to puke and eat more at the same time.
Sunday 24th February
Still basking in the afterglow of my scrumtrilescent pun-making abilities I headed into town to partake in an underwear-buying rampage. Went into EVERY underwear emporium in Bologna. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. It was all either total tack or really poor quality and not worthy of my silky derriere. Also, don't get me started on the bra situation. There are no cup sizes in Italy. All the bras just have back sizes. This is mostly due to the fact that nobody really has any boobs over here, which is probably why they're OBSESSED with them. I mean come on people! Spare a thought for the larger breasted lady! No wonder all the women in the gym showers have all horrible saggy breasticles - they had to have been wearing bras that look like they were made for 12 year olds all their lives!
Head home totally heartbroken, but on my way I spy this underwear shop with all gorgeous things in the window in all my favourite colours and I get all excited! It's closed because it's a Sunday but I vow to go back the next day. Went home filled with hope. And ate the other half of the cake.
Monday 25th February
Woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed looking forward to revamping my underwear drawer when Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore calls me into the kitchen to go over how much the bills come to between us all. And yes, you've guessed it - it was the EXACT amount I had allocated to the underwear splurge. I hand over my lovely crispy note with a lump in my throat, and get a flash-forward to me sitting in a darkened room, sewing flour sacks together to make new knickers.
Mope for the rest of the day, watch The L Word, then Secretary and snuggle up and dream about all the lovely scunders I could be lounging around in now. I'm picturing a lovely little vest and knickers combo. Damn you cruel fate! Why must you deprive me of knickers!
Tuesday 26th February
Got the Waterford People in the post. This is a new Waterford paper that has come out since I left, which is trying to pretend that life is actually going on without me in Waterford City. I know, the very idea. It's embarrassing, really. Anyway I must have become used to being constantly surrounded by absolutely gorgeous people all the time over here, cos when I looked through it
I couldn't BELIEVE some of the hideous mugs lurking between the pages. Eventually I had to stop looking as my eyes were watering. With tears of laughter at the displays of facial ineptness, like. I think I'm bad, but that paper gave me new hope for the future. There really IS someone worse off than you!
There were a few nice crisp notes in with the paper and hope was restored for the underwear spree! Yessssssssssssssss!
Wednesday 27th February
Went to a lecture (I know, how unlike me) then went out for aperitivi afterwards with the girls and Fran's boyfriend David had just flown in. For the second time that month. Especially to see her. Yes hello I'd like one of those please. Had a glass of wine and then moved on to this gorgeous bar where we had Rossinis and Bellinis and Daiquiris. Absolutley gorgeous. Oral ecstacy! Needless to day, I was in the HORRORS. We finished up reasonably early to allow those two crazy kids to go home and combobulate and I meandered home in a drunken/lonely/yearning so badly for a cuddle I would probably snuggle a tramp with a bladder problem stupor. Got home, opened the fridge and ate an entire packet of sliced cheese. Style and panach people! Style and panache.
Thursday 28th February
Woke up all excited about all the lovely underwear I was going to buy. Hopped into the shower full of the joys of Spring. Got out of the shower to be confronted by a bill that was the EXACT amount of my lovely crispy notes. Twice the heartbreak this time. I feel like there's someone up there who wants to see me bare arsed. Its not fair!
I dont fret about it too long though and I head out to the Villa for dinner, as one of the girls is leaving and she wants to make me a thank you dinner. To thank me for being so charismatic, funny, charming, and generally all-round wonderful. She doesn't say this but I just assume. Obviously. It's Burritos and it's a cream dream! Most gorgeous dinner I've had in AGES! Absolutely fabulous. Head home with a full belly and a happy heart.
On the way home a strong wind blows me in the door of Lidl and I accidentally buy another Chinois. Sit up late in the kitchen making love to it. What? It's a completely normal thing to do, right? RIGHT?
Friday 29th February
Go to this cool Italian history class and afterwards get an ice cream. Best ice cream I've had so far in Italy. I got a little pot with three flavours in it, one white chocolate with nutella, one hazelnut, and one nutella flavoured with malteaser-like yokes in it. There are no words. There really arent. Yum Yum pigs bum doesnt even BEGIN to cover it.
Head home and eat the other half of the chinois for my dinner. What is happening to me? I'm constantly STARVING, even 5 minutes after I last ate. And Im not hungry for dinners, I just want a cake. And not just ANY cake, but that specific Chinois. I wonder if this is a sign of an underlying desire for something else. Am I trying to substitute the cake for something? Then I realise that a cake is no substitute for knickers (seriously, don't try it at home kids) but even more so it's not going to magically sprout two big arms and a hairy chest and play with my hair while I'm watching the telly (although I live in hope). I have a stern word with myself to end this twisted relationship with the cake, and snuggle up in me little leaba. I am TOTALLY buying another cake tomorrow.
All in all a good week. I stayed within the fifty euro budget but only because I had that extra money to pay those bills. Im actually relieved I didnt spend anything on the Sunday as then I would have been screwed for the bills. Every week I try to put a tenner aside for the bills, which means Im actually living off 40 snots. But inevitably I run out of cash and starvation makes me spend the tenner. On cakes. Oh lordy. Eddie, give me strength!
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