Saturday 12th April
Rose from the leaba and said to myself that today was going to be the day I would tackle Storia della Lingua. Did my bit of shopping, breezed through my Saturday menial tasks (I love Saturdays), sat down at my desk with my Lingua stuff and.........promptly spent the rest of the day on the internet. Godammit Jenniky will you ever learn to resist the lure of the internet husband? (The answer is no)
Sunday 13th April
Right that's it, I'm serious this time. I am doing my Lingua. I am NOT basking in the tattooed gloriousness of Flesh Tunnels all day. I'll just go on the internet for a second though. Check my emails, like. It'll only take me a minute. Oh look, Flesh Tunnel's online (because I text him that I was online), I'll just say well, sure it'd be RUDE not to. Webcam? Ah sure why not, it'll only take a second. Awwwwwww he's so wonderful AND he's not wearing anything sleeveless. Aaaaaaaaaaaand it's 10pm. Shit.
Monday 14th April
Wake up at 6.30pm to go for an especially gruelling jog to punish myself for being such a bad person. Now, as I've said before I go so early to save everyone from their eyes squirting blood at the sight of me huffing and puffing as I pelt around the park. And usually the only people in the park at that time is oul' fellas bringin their dogs out for a poo and "immigints" going to work. But not today, people, oh no. I'm merrily going about my sweaty way and I turn the corner and lo - there coming towards me is...ANOTHER JOGGER! And A REAL one, not a baby one like me. God the terror! He's pulled out all the stops now, he's even got the fecking legging yokes that draw the eye to his beacon-like package, set off by his Fame-esque sweatshirt slashed at the shoulder. I am MORTO.
I immediately go (even more) illuminous red. Right, the only thing I can do is switch directions so we are running away from each other. Make a nifty left at the trampolines and run past the basketball courts, feeling pretty smug. Hee hee, I'm so stealthy! Look down at my stopwatch to time my interval and look up and WTF?!!! He's RIGHT there, bombing it towards me.What the hell, like? He is some kind of supernatural ninja jogging FREAK. We are running directly towards each other and he is totally sizing me up and we're giving each other evils. I just can't do it, like I just can't face up to running past him, so just as I get to like 10 feet of him, I just turn abruptly left and belt it off across the grass. Like a total retard. Why, Jenniky? WHY!? God, I HATE myself sometimes. But one thing I know for certain, this must NEVER happen again. Make a silent pact to come even earlier in future.
Go home and spend the rest of the day doing Lingua to get my mind off being a total berk. It doesn't work, though, and every now and then I get an actual physical pain from the sheer extremity of the cringeing I'm doing every time it pops into my head.
Tuesday 15th April
Ok people. The need for a yoghurt is STRONG. Whatever about milk now, I don't even like milk, and I wouldn't drink it if it weren't for my sexual relationship with cereal. But yoghurt. Dear, beloved yoghurt. It eases my pain.Toss and turn all night thinking about how I JUST WANT A YOGHURT. But no, I dont just want a yoghurt. I want 47 yoghurts. All over my naked body, perhaps. Or someone else's naked body. Preferably The Rock's, who is my Dream Husband, by the way. Or maybe just some cheese. Like even the tiniest ickle wickle bit. God this is so tough. Damn you dairy and the inexplicable power you have over me! Head down to the supermarket, foaming at the mouth. Into the yoghurt aisle, like Pavlov's dog. Oooh all the colours! The flavours! But I can't have them! Scan the aisle for soya yoghurts, and 5 mins later I spot them. 1 flavour. 1 lousy flavour. And guess what flavour it was. Cherry. Cherry, like. Fuck it, I say to myself, it's this or nothing. So I buy a 2-pack for the bargainous price of E1.89 and head home, equally miffed and joyous. Sit down on the couch, turn off the telly, and prepare the surrounding area for the consumption of said yoghurts. A few mins later they are both gone, and i'm less than impressed. Deffo not getting them again. Until tomorrow.
Roommate heads off to her course and I can live in peace for the day. Head into town and meet Fran for a cuppa. However, by the time I get into town I am seriously suffering. My head feels like a beach ball and I am a snot factory and I want to reach inside my ear and scratch my brain. It can only mean one thing - the hayfever is back. Have no cash to buy Flixonase til next week though. Walk home and by the time I get home I am a broken woman. I feel as if there is a hood over my head and I'm just generally in bits. SO annoying. Struggled through a bit of Lingua but then resigned myself to the fact it was time for bed. Snuggled up in bed and watched Walk Hard (could be better) and Starter for 10 (James you can do no wrong). Sniffing and snarfling my way through the whole thing. Oooooh poor Jenniky, she's not well!
Wednesday 16th April
Up again for another 6.30 am run. Halfway through though my head started feeling really heavy and I was about to scratch the eyes from my head. Hayfever. At 6.30 am. GRRRRR! Finished the jog and went home with a head like a dog I was so annoyed over the hayfever. Had a lovely shower, read for a bit and then headed into Fran's.
Returned home and avoided Bitch-Faced Whore for the night. I would rather chew wool than have to talk to her and pretend I dont want to hit her over the head with a shovel.
Thursday 17th April
Awake, gleeful. It's Thursday which means today I get to feast my eyes on Hugues. Oh his wonderfulness knows no end. Today we do "Si" tenses and as it's a pretty tough topic, he decides to make us pair up into twos and play a grammar game. A grammar game, people. Once an oxymoron but no more! During the game he walks around the room and listens in on people. He makes his way over to me and man-I-can-never-quite-catch-his-name (Viemis?) and proceeds to lean over me, breathing down the back of my neck. Oh. My. God. Every single nerve cell in my body was ON FIRE. It was nipple city in my vest. So needless to say I was just sitting in the chair staring emptily at Viemis like some kind of erotically charged vegetable. I couldn't even THINK, never mind plus-que-parfait. So then he's like "Jenny-fare? Are you sleeping?" I'm like "No Hugues, I'm having an erotic fantasy about you, dear." Manage to make it through the rest of the class and then myself and Classmate head to grab a slice of pizza, me leaving a snail trail the whole way.
We go to our usual haunt and ordered our pizzas and as they are in the oven, the guy who is making the pizzas has all the dough rolled out ready for tomato sauce and then he steps back and does a GIANT sneeze all over them. Like straight onto them, he doesnt even put his hand to his mouth. I recoil in horror and Classmate is like "What?" and just as I was about to recount the horrid tale he DID IT AGAIN. And then to make matters worse he did a big snarfly snot in his SLEEVE. Like right in front of the counter. How stupid can you be? I reeled back in horror, thoughts of all the snot pizzas I've had out of there dancing in my head. Needless to say we hot-footed it out of there, never to return.
Go home to find that Bitch-Faced Whore has returned to Calabria for a wedding. Whoop! And our house ceases to be a concentration camp the second she walks out the door. As Roommate and I say "quando il gatto non c'e', i topi ballano" which roughly translates as "she is a fucking slavedriver and fuck me if I am disinfecting the kitchen presses this Sunday". Celebrate with another 2 soya yoghurts, each as rotten as the last, and do a nice face mask, thus spending more than a half an hour in the bathroom. B-FW would turn in her granny pyjamas if she knew. Hee hee!
Friday 18th April
Wake up at 5.55am. Will I head out for a run? Nah, I'll go back asleep, I'm knackered. And then I don't know what happened but suddenly I found myself doing the squillionth lap of the park. I had NO IDEA how I even GOT there. At first when I started running I HATED it, but I just loved the results, but now I'm ADDICTED to it. I love the early morning like that where everyone else is a-haboo in their little beds and all I can hear is my feet pounding off the ground.
Later that day, despite my oath to be really bold while B-FW is gone, I can't help myself and I scrub the bathroom and floors. God, I make myself SICK. Curse myself for being so weak, and punish myself for it by spending the majority of the day studying up a storm.
Another good week, in that I didnt go over budget, but I did end up without a pingin rua and on Friday I had to combobulate literally everything I had left, which resulted in some "interesting" meals. Also, I foresee the soya yoghurt thing becoming a bit of a problem. I'm the bestest girl for giving up the dairy though. That's what Eddie told me anyway. In my head.
Transgender gone wrong
16 hours ago