Week Eight Delay

Sorry lads, but due to the stresses and strains of being an international woman of mystery, this week's post will be an eentsy weentsy bit late. But at least you'll have something to brighten up your Tuesday morning.

Feel free to leave disgruntled comments below.

Week Seven

Oh Mary mother of God. I haven’t been this sick in a long time. However, as a result, I haven’t been this skinny in a long time, so it’s alright by me. And somewhere between picking me up off the floor and force feeding me dinners NDN (Next Door Neighbour), ceased to be my NDN and became my BBB (Big Brown Boyfriend). All well and good but Eddie is breathing down the back of my neck like nobody’s business!

Monday 16^th Nov

Today was rough out, boy. Woke up with the usual burn in my stomach and took my tablets in the (vain) hope of finding some relief but holy god by 12 o clock I was crippled in agony. I just lay on the bed watching episodes of Dexter but by 3 o clock I swear to god I couldn’t take it any more.

You know when you’re really sick and you’re in so much pain that you actually go a bit mental? Well I was right there. You start having them black and white waking dreams about going on the waltzers in Tramore.

The pain was such that I was like “I think I might just die instead of going through this.” And what’s more I was SWEATING, I must have been a million degrees. So I went over to the window and opened it wide letting the blast of Baltic November air blow in on me. Then I said to myself shur Ill have a little lie down on these lovely cool tiles. I’ll just lie down a have a little die for myself, like.

I don’t know what happened then or how long I was lying there for but the next thing BBB came bustin in the door and picked me up off the floor.

“Jesus Christ look at the state of you!” he goes.

Then he put me on the bed and started ransacking my room. Why? Why, I hear you ask? Lads this is so funny. The poor child thought I was after taking an overdose or something and he was looking around for evidence. Shur God love him like.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I said.

"What did you take? What did you drink?"

White as a sheet he was, reading all my toiletry labels. I was curled up in a ball on the bed, literally in the knots with the laughing. This wasn’t helping my case. In the end anyway I managed to convince him I was only sick, not dying of a body lotion overdose. He made me eat some pasta then and then I went back into my own room to writhe around in peace.

Tuesday 17^th Nov

Woke up in absolutely no pain for the first time in weeks! Yay! Did a spring clean of the room and organized some work stuff before BBB came home from college. Yet again he made me my dinner and then we watched some Dexter.

Into me leaba I hopped that night, happy as Larry just to be well. But as I lay there all snuggled up in the dark, Little Eddie Hobbs crept over the pillow to whisper in my ear “You’re fucked Jen, just give it up, bitch”. God, he’s right. I am fucked. The ad revenue from this blog has somewhat plateau-ed lately, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that noone on God’s green earth is going to come and read a blog about the Eddie Hobbs Diet and then click on an ad that says “Men’s Tartan Boxers”. Although it has been reported that once there was an ad on here for Eddie Hobbs services.

Speaking of Eddie Hobbs, I feel I must share with you all that about a fortnight ago now I emailed Eddie Hobbs through his website and told him all about my Eddie Hobbs Diet and I haven’t heard anything back, not even from one of his minions. And then he had the CHEEK to show his face on the Late Late Show after he didn’t bother acknowledging my adoration. He is clearly playing hard to get. Oh Eddie. Don't make me start a facebook group.

Wednesday 18^th Nov

Today is my friend Laura’s birthday so we head to her house for dinner and drinks. On the way I am solemnly warned by BBB that I am absolutely NOT to drink tonight, that it is contributing to my ongoing sickness. Of course, I say. Shur I’ll just have a sneaky glass or two of prosecco like.

Now lads I don’t know what happened. I just don’t know. I really did only mean to have one or two. But when I look back on the night, the one or two glasses turned into one or two bottles of prosecco. And also, I never do shots, like as in I have never done one shot in my entire life, but shots of JD were involved. Or “Sinor Jack” as he is affectionately known. Then when the prosecco was gone, I was so busy chatting that I didn’t notice that I was drinking a full glass of neat rum as if it were lemonade. When the time came to go to the club, I went outside the front door and bejaysus. No way. No WAY was I going anywhere but home. I’d say BBB would have killed me if he wasn’t as pissed himself. For a beast of a man, he can’t drink for shit, shur God love him. And that’s saying something coming from me, who gets drunk at the sniff of a West Coast Cooler. But then again I suppose his organs aren’t fully formed yet, what with him being a child and that.

Thursday 19^th Nov

Woke up. Groaned. Went back to sleep.

Friday 20^th Nov

Oh this is it, folks. Things have reached a crescendo! Woke up with the old familiar burn in the stomach and was watching a spot of Dexter when Nora asked did I want to have a lurk around town. Of course! I says, but when I stood up, my stomach had other plans. I was struck with the most acute pain I literally couldn’t straighten out. I got down on the floor in a ball. This is it, I was thinking to myself. This is how I am going to die. Because this is definitely NOT normal, I don’t know anyone who lives like this. The worst thing was I couldn’t even start banging on the wall for BBB to come in because he was gone home for a few days. Next thing I crawled in to the bathroom, and shur Jesus there followed what can only be described as an exodus of my innards. This is good though, this is cleansing. My friend Sofia came over then with tea and biscotti and DVDs and minded me. I think I will marry her.

Saturday 21^st Nov

Went into town with Nora, then headed into Sadie and Laura’s. It was pissin out but all the Christmas lights were on so it totally cancelled out all the dreariness. I am SO looking forward to Christmas! Mam and Hazel are coming over on Thursday and then we are all flying home together on Friday. I can only imagine the shenanigans that we are going to get up to once we get a Malibu and pineapple into Mammy!

Once again, can’t wait to get home to Waterford for a while. Of course, once I’m there five minutes I’ll be itchin to get back out! I can’t even begin to tell you how much I am looking forward to some more classic Jacques family moments like the one that came to pass last March on Hazel’s 30^th birthday. (That’s right Hazel, I’m going there).

We were all out in Hazel’s house for her birthday and we were in the living room in front of the fire having a chat.

Daddy was on the recliner in front of the telly, watchin it at full blast cos he is deaf (from listening to us I’d say) and Hazel’s little dog Lola was standing on his chest just licking the face off him, and he was just letting her.

I don’t know what it is about Daddy’s face but all dogs are mad to lick it. And I don’t know why he lets them, especially Lola, of all little dogs, because she always pees when she gets happy or excited, shur God love her. She was going apeshit licking the face off him and we were all laughing our heads of and making jokes about it, while poor deaf daddy continued on watching the telly, oblivious to us takin the piss.

Next thing Hazel’s husband goes

“Jesus if he’s not careful, his face’ll be like the fella from the Falklands war!”

So we were all laughing at this, but naturally because Hazel had literally just had the baby she pissed herself and left a little wet patch on the leather sofa (thank god it’s wipe clean is all I’ll say!) and I said

“Haha you left a wet patch!’

Ivor then

“Where? Where?!”

And we were all laughing our heads off, like really in the knots, I mean I was on all fours on the floor. Daddy must have heard some faint sounds cos he turned around and we were all rolling all over the place.

“What’s going on?” he said.

Ivor said “She pissed herself!”

And Daddy went “Wha?! Jesus Christ!”

and threw the dog off him, literally launched her through the air like, cos he didn’t have a clue what was going on and he thought Ivor meant that Lola pissed herself all over Daddy and that was what we were laughin at! Well needless to day there wasn’t a dry knickers in the house. Oh lads - get me home!

Sunday 22^nd Nov

Feeling better today. Went for a stroll around town to get some air and reintegrate into society slash spread my disease to the unsuspecting masses. Headed home then to rest. Got on to facebook and had a hilarious nostalgic conversation.

Lads, hands up who remembers NAFFco 54 jackets? And I always thought it was Nanny Annie Fuckin Fanny Colm’s Only 54, but I was told it was in fact Nanny Annie Fuckin Fanny Condoms Only 54. These jackets were the shit boy. If you had one you were the biznitch. You were also king of the pikeys but that’s neither here nor there. If you had the original Naf Naf coat you were actually LESS cool than the people who had NAFFco 54 jackets that they got for a fiver down the Apple Market, where the fella threw in a few gone off Mars bars with it.

If you were a female pikey, the Naffco54 jacket HAD to be worn with “skrousers”. For the uninitiated these are a tasteful mélange of a trousers and a skirt.

Now if you wanted to be REALLY cool, you headed into Rockit on Blackfriars and got yourself a pair of Xworx jeans. I think Rockit replaced Mork’s in the Broad Street Centre as THE place to go for t-shirts and jeans.

Except of course now I was no raver, I was something MUCH cooler lads. I was a grunger. Or at the very least I was trying to be! Jaysis now lads I had it all, the flannel shirts, the chain on me wallet, the black and red doc martins. Shame my Harry Potter glasses didn’t quite fit in with the whole look. Same goes for my “curtains” fringe. Sigh.

Toward the late 1990’s then my style developed into a more skater-y look. With my Quiksilver t shirts and peace sign pendant I was the shit. No joke.

All I can say is thank god I got it all out of my system back then. I can honestly say I was positively rotten until I was about 20. I think I have somewhat copped on since then though.

Thank God.

Bit of a depressing week here in Pavia due to being sick and losing sleep due to the financial nightmare that is my life, but thinking of the good times ahead with the family Jacques keeps me going when I’m sitting on the toilet puking into the bidet.

PS Heard there's a lot of rain at home at the moment. People must be bustin' out their arks left right and centre. I can only imagine them up in the Apple Market now "Ten euro the ark! Free box of mars bars with every ark!"

PPS I can't find any pics on the interweb of Naffco54. The first person to find me one will get a present in the post! If you remember any other mortifying trends from back in the day, leave them as a comment below and give us all a good laugh!

Week Six

A somewhat interesting week in Pavia culminating in being threatened by an axe murderer, facing my fear of squatting, skinning both my knees and discovering the joys of chip pizza. Good times.

Monday 10^th Nov

This morning I opened the shutters and looked out the window and there on the street below was a billboard with a picture of a nudie white woman and a nudie black man. And the caption was “They call me Dirty Black. They call me Filthy Lesbian”. And that’s it like. Nice to meet ye lads, they call me Jennie!

This afternoon then I heard voices in the hall, one of them being next door neighbour’s. I went out to join the banter and we ended up in another girl’s room chatting away. Next thing “Do you have a boyfriend?” he said to me. Heart skips a beat. I must have just been sitting there like a gombeen because the girl next to me answered for me. He expressed an interest in going to rowing so later when I was getting ready for rowing I asked him does he want to come with me, but he was already on his way to the gym. “But I’m going to a party tonight, do you want to come with me?” Me then “Eh, yeah” And I grabbed my phone to take his number and as I was typing it in my hand was shaking and I lost all strength in my fingers. I was typin in all types of Xs and Os like a ham-fisted buffoon. I’m not used to this kind of carry-on at all, at all. Once I had his number I had to close the door and sit down for a minute. Me nerves!

That night anyway I had to come home sick from rowing. I hopped into the shower when I got home and by the time I had gotten out he had rung me four times and texted me once. Hmm. I text him anyway saying I was sick and couldn’t go. He text back “Pity, etc, next time etc, if you need a doctor let me know…” Oh my God. Oh my God. Three dots! He is flirting with me.

Ok right, all systems go. Must construct a text message that is flirty and nonchalant in equal measure. Then we can keep the flirting going for a while to help me to acclimatize to the idea of going out with someone new. Excellent. This is good. This is healthy. So I typed in “Shur come and examine me tomorrow, my lips are hurtin me…smiley face” See that’s the trick, hedge your bets with a smiley face. Usually I hate smileys, but in this case, they are my ally. I read the message ten times before sending it. Ah here, fuck it, I’ll send it, I’m mad, I am! So there then followed the ten minutes between my message and his reply in which I was having the obligatory panic attack “Oh my God, what was I thinking! He’s not going to reply now, he thinks I’m a mad aul wan!” Until the phone beeped and my blood pressure rocketed. “Shur jaysus I could call in tonight if that’s the case…smiley face”. Ah good. The presence of smiley faces keeps it all innocent. This suits me grand, what with being a divorcee stumbling blindly back out into the market like. A few more weeks of this and I’ll be ready for the first awkward kiss. Great. By then it was past midnight so I relaxed a bit, shur we can continue the harmless flirting tomorrow.

Next thing, a knock at the door.

Oh Jesus! JESUS! It’s not, is it? It couldn’t be. I opened the door a tiny crack. His giant bod was taking up the whole door frame. I didn’t know whether to puke or faint! He must have run home as fast as his teenage legs could carry him! I was just standing there in shock, in my jimjam ends and my horrible t shirt that I usually only wear for training, hair all over the gaff. Next thing he goes “Did somebody call for a doctor?” Oh God. Oh Mary mother of Jesus. I’m not ready for this! I just stood there, jaw on the floor. Then he just said “You propositioned me” and pushed me in the door, scooped me up with one hand and closed the door behind him with the other. Oh God! My first thought was “How the fuck am I going to get out of this one?” but then I was like, go with it, give him a little kiss like. No sooner were my lips braced for contact than his hand wanted to go on a holiday to Boob Town. Ha! I don’t fuckin think so, butty. He was swiftly “trun” out back into his own room. Boob town, as if! You’ll have to put in a fair bit of wooing first, m’dear. Now I’m no prude but please now, I mean honestly. I really don’t think so. I meant the lips on my face were hurting me, like. Talk about gettin the wrong end of the stick. I mean Italian women might give out free passes to Boob Town like they’re going out of style but not me, no siree. No hands please, I’m Irish.

I got into bed anyway hoping for a good night sleep. But I just lay there staring at the ceiling all night thinking “what just happened?” Most terrifying/hilarious thirty seconds of my life, like.

Tuesday 11^th Nov

Yesterday just kind of ran into today because of lack of sleep last night. He knocked on my door in the morning to say goodbye before he went to college. Like a nice polite boy. Good, he’s learning. Let the wooing commence.

Wednesday 12^th Nov

Today my friends from college Anna and Eamonn came over to visit me. I was delighted to see them. The two of them were foaming at the mouth to do something mental to get into my blog, and they didn’t disappoint. We checked into their hotel room first. Now this hotel, like all hotels in Italy, as stipulated by law, is run by a complete mentaller. You just know by his soft spoken voice and the mayonnaise on his cheek that he has some bodies buried in the back yard. We were in the room having a catch up in the middle of the day like, and the next thing a knock at the door. It’s the axe murderer. “You’ll have to keep it down lads” he said, quite nicely, “Oh yeah grand boy, no bodder” says us. Even though we were only conversing as mature adults, as illustrated in the picture below.

But he kept going on “If you keep talking, I’ll give you back your money and you can go find somewhere else to stay”. “Yeah, yeah no problem” we said. “If the talking continues I’m going to call the police and have you dragged out of here” Ok, now this is getting weird. “Eh…ok, yep, understood”. “If I hear one more sound I’m going to come up here and chop you into little pieces, wrap you in quality street wrappers and give you out as sweets on Halloween”. Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. He went off anyway and we were all just staring at each other like WTF? The next thing a drill started up upstairs, and continued for all of Anna and Eamonn’s stay. Welcome to Italy lads.

That night we went out to the Irish pub. Now I hadn’t ever used their bathroom before so I was shocked and upset to find that they had those hole in the ground toilets. Now people, anyone who knows me knows that I just do not do anything that involves squatting. I have never peed in a field in my life and I’m not about to assume the position now. I mean, how does one even approach these things? I’m very upset like. But as the proseccos kept coming I had to face the truth: it was time to pee. Oh god, oh god. Had to get detailed instructions from Sofia before I could go downstairs. Emerged equally victorious and disgusted. I mean how unladylike. These things really bother me, I wish I could be more like my sister, who’d piss in yer eye. I’m not saying which sister. (It’s Hazel.)

Thursday 13^th Nov

Today Anna and Eamonn went on a jaunt to Milan while I had to go to work in Pavia. When they got home we went out for a several drinks. Of course, we all know that the part of the night when you are in the bar drinking the actual drinks is never the funniest part of the night, oh no. The funniest part of the night is when the drinks have been drunk and you’re on your way home and one of ye has a “brilliant idea”. In this case, the ‘brilliant idea’ was had by us when we were going through the underground passage in town. “Oh my god like, let’s recreate the Twilight New Moon poster.” “That is the most ingenious thing I have ever heard of in my life!” This is clearly a completely normal and appropriate thing to be doing at 2 o’ clock of a Friday morning in an underground passageway. See result below.

Anyway then we headed to the taxi rank to get me a taxi home. Not a taxi in sight, and when we rang the taxi company there were no taxis available. In fact, there wasn’t even any traffic. Anna and Eamonn said they’d walk me home the ten minutes up the road. Grand. So we were walkin up the road like the three drunken gowlers we are and no harm came to us, until we were literally outside my front door and I slapped off the ground. Like, literally lying on the ground I was. I have always hated walking down slight declines and this is why. First one foot slipped, but then the other foot saved me, but then that foot slipped and the other one came back to save me; and this must have went on for about ten seconds, all the while I was getting closer and closer to the ground until I eventually admitted defeat and sprawled out face down. You know that feeling, where there is the initial panic when you slip, but then the relief when you realize you have saved yourself, only to slip again and save yourself again and you keep thinking you are going to be ok until slowly, slowly, the realization dawns on you that you and the ground are going to meet face to face. Needless to say we all were creased up laughing. Eamonn tried to help me up “No no!” I said “lets laugh first”! And then when we got enough laughing out, Eamonn was helping me up and he was like “Anna take her other hand” but Anna said “I can’t, I’m peeing”. Ah lads. As Eamonn would say - it’s all fun and games until you’re crawling home.

Friday 14^th Nov

Woke up this morning with no skin on my knees, and my palm shredded. Not bad for a night’s work. Eamonn and Anna came in to my place and then we headed out for lunch and a stroll. Headed back to my place then for them to collect their bags and they headed off into the sunset. What a great few days. Went to work and then came home and curled up and watched Up.

Saturday 15^th Nov

Right this weekend I am taking it easy after the hectic week. Head into Laura and Sadie’s house for some pizza and prosecco action. However after a miniscule amount of wine, it seemed to have reawakened the alcohol that was lying dormant in my system and I was instantly in the goolies. This is not good. Must stumble home immediately and fall into bed.

Sunday 16^th Nov

Worked all day (with a sprinkling of America’s Next Top Model) then in the evening went into town with the fella next door for an aul stroll. On the way home we got pizza and I, only out of morbid curiosity, you understand, got a Chip Pizza. That’s right, a pizza with chips on it. For 5 euro. I mean come on. I imagined how much money I could make off the drunken louts on John Street in Waterford at 4 o clock on a Sunday morning with chip pizzas. But then I thought of the trauma of having to see all the fat wans with their “bet” on clothes stumbling in and stuffing it down their hideous gobs and I thought nah - me mental health is me wealth.

Anyway I said to the fella next door, "this is mad now, the two of us hanging out and you’re only nineteen." “Oh, I’m not nineteen.” He says. Oh thank God, I think to myself, and breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m eighteen”.

God forgive me.

Week Five

Now lads everyone calm down right – but this week I found out what it says on the sign! I know, like. I know.

Monday 2^nd Nov

I went to training tonight determined to find out who Lorenzo was. Had me eyes cocked for him all night. There weren’t many people there so I was scanning the machines for a big fella. And lo – about 6 machines down there he was – a BEAST of a man rowing away. That must be him I say to myself. He gets up and goes out to get some water and he looks at me on the way out but I looked up too late to catch his eye. Shit! Must make up for it on the way back. On his way back in then I was STARING him down like willing him to look at me, lasers shooting out of my eyeballs like. He looked at me anyway and I got that lightning bolt in my belly and I smiled and was like “well boy” And he smiled back at me like he knew me. That must be him Im thinking to myself. But how can I be sure?

I finished up on the machines and went out into the hall and the trainer was there. Come upstairs with me I said so we were going upstairs and halfway up he stopped me and said in an urgent (sexy) whisper “Quick – which one is Ella?” This is it! This is my moment! “Never mind about that, who the fuck is Lorenzo?” And then he was like “Lor..” and someone started coming down the stairs so we were like “yeah lets do some ab work yeah, yeah” ! And we continued on up the stairs. Goddammit!

Tuesday 3^rd Nov

Went down the supermarket today, and all the way down there I was psyching myself up to no end to find out what it says on the sign. I have to keep my public happy like. Lads I was hyped up to the last. SAS in full swing like. I was here like “I’m just going to say, ‘give us a look at that sign’”.

Well lads he must be reading this blog or something, because when I rounded the corner of the footbridge there he was with a NEW sign. A bigger one, written out in stenciled letters and laminated. “Jaysus”, I said to myself , “he means business.” So I went up to him, “Ciao” I says, “give us a look at that sign” (all going according to plan so far), and it says

I am looking for work.

I am a deaf mute.

I have had to leave my country.

My father is dead.

Please help me.

“Jesus Christ” I thought to myself, what a shitty hand to be dealt.

Then I was thinking to myself – deaf and dumb? I could be full sure he said well to me a few times. Funny, that. Must just be me. “Would you fancy an oul pizza boy?” I says, “Ah yeah, missus” he nods. So I did my shoppin and grabbed him pizza and a drink. On the way out anyway I handed it to him. He puts his hand on his heart. “Tell me a bit about yourself” I goes. He looked at me as if I had two tits (new readers see week two). I said “where are you from?”, cos he was a bit too mocha-choca-latta-ya-ya to be Italian like. And he is like lookin all flustered like he cant communicate with me and I say “come on like, lets at least try and talk to each other.” Ok he nods and takes out his phone. Alarm bells are going off. What is he doing with a phone? Then I think shur I am only marginally better off than him and I have one hahah! So we carry out a conversation via typin stuff into our phones. He is from Romania and his name is Valentin. So I went home anyway thinking of places I could find him a nice cushy job. The poor fella like, it’s a hard oul life.

I get home anyway and I’m chatting away to Jac. I tell her I found out what it says on the sign. “Let me guess” she says “Im a deaf mute with a son on another country. Theres a fella with that sign in Waterford.” And I actually thought for a split second- lads I ACTUALLY thought “Jesus that’s some coincidence”.

Now bear in mind I am the most gullible person on the face of the earth. Like one time at home Stewy says to me in the living room “Jen I was just reading there, did you know statistically that 6 out of 7 dwarves aren’t Happy?” And me then “Oh my God, really? That’s terrible!” And he lookin at me then as if to say “oh my god you thick bitch.” Couple that now with me big dopey soft heart and shur I’d fall for any sob story.

So anyway needless to say I am rightly pissed off that Valentin is after playin me for a fool. I mean like I couldn’t buy me cashews cos I bought him lunch instead. And I need them to keep me calories up when I’m training. Well I swear to god, he better HOPE he is actually deaf and dumb. Of course he’s not feckin looking for work. Shur how could he be and he standing there every hour of the day? He knows he will make more money standing there than he would in a proper job. The fucker. He’s prob at home now with the rest of his begging crew and his father, who is very much alive, going “yeah this thick blonde bitch bought me lunch today – boo-ya!”.

This is remindin me of some beggars in particular in Dublin. Like the fella on Westmoreland Street with the gammy leg. And he rolls up his trouser leg to his thigh and waves his leg in your face as you walk past. And the practiced pitiful look on his face like, he gets up in the morning and puts in his puppy dog eyes. “Oh poor me, look at me poor leg it’s upside down and inside out”. And a full head of gold teeth on him. He doesn’t need money like, he needs a Cash4Gold freepost envelope.

Stop lads - I shouldn’t have read the sign. I knew even as I was reading it, that it was a bad idea. Sigh.

Wednesday 4^th Nov

Didn’t go to training tonight as there was a big dinner on in our palazzo. Actually it was more of a banquet – we each dragged our tables out into the corridor so it was one huge long table. It was a good laugh. So before dinner I was chattin to some new people and the fella next door comes over and here the next thing he starts leaning on my shoulder and I was thinking to myself “If he puts his elbow on my head he definitely fancies me” Two seconds later, he put his elbow on my head. Ha! I knew it. Pity he is only 12.

But he surprised me. We were sittin down eatin dinner and he was sittin at the top of the table (of 30 people) holding court there like a fully grown man. I was impressed. And I’m ashamed to say it, but….he was makin me feel a bit giddy. Stop lads. Remember when you were a teenager and every time you saw someone you fancied you get that shock in your stomach? All I needed were the glasses and the braces and I’d be 15 again!

After dinner we all had to stand on the table and walk down it like a catwalk and stand on the end of it and talk about ourselves. Everyone was going up and then the next thing everyone started chanting “Lady Gaga! Lady Gaga!” and here I was , what the fuck are them eejits on about, and here they were on about me. Sorry. Sorry now - Lady Gaga? Since when do I look like Lady Gaga? I can’t help but feel insulted. I must have dropped a pair of balls when I wasn’t lookin like.

Anyway then the next door fella gets up. Now I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t lookin. I was just having a look like, just browsin. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a pair of boots and a skin tight polo neck. All of which were having an effect on me. Lads you could tell the time off his pecs. It was ride o clock like. Later on then we were having drinks and he went to walk past me and put his giant hands around my waist and brushed his whole body against me to walk past. And I wouldn’t mind but there were at least three metres between me and the wall. Interesting. Then at some point I felt a twinge in my back. The twinge that tells me someone is standing very close behind me. Infact, their belly is touching my whole back. He was breathing in and out against me. And the next thing he starts off talking in his ridiculous accent, and his voice is trickling down the back of my neck like HONEY. Just be cool, Jen. Act normal like. The girl I was talking to was talking away but I could literally only see her lips move. The room was spinning.

And for a split second, for a split second I actually thought “hmmm I might have a steamy fling with this fella”.

But then I considered the fact that it would entail holding in my farts in front of him, and I said fuck it, its not worth it.

After dinner then we all headed outside and then the fuckin horror began. The “initiations”. All the new residents were made to stand in the grass and sing some song. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on – was the song in some quare dialect or was I just pissed? I may as well have had a teat on the end of the bottle of prosecco I was drinkin it so fast. Me nerves were at me like. Then we had to do the chicken dance around the place. I was laughing along but inside I was like please someone drop an atomic bomb so this can end. Eventually the terror ended and myself and the lads headed to our beds.

Thursday 5^th Nov

God, what was I thinking last night? Me and another fella. As if, like. Imagine someone other than Stewy touchin me. Ewwwwwwwwwwww. I could puke. No, I’d much rather continue on my merry way without some fella draggin out of me annoying me when I’m trying to watch Dexter. Anyway he is only a child. Plus like if I was going to have a bella storia over here I’d go for something a bit more my style. Well I mean I do enjoy a larger gentleman with beauteous carrying-me-around abilities but I’ve always been really into glasses on fellas, more so recently actually.

Head out the door to go to the shopping centre at the exact moment he comes out his door. I’m turning to say well but I only got as far as “w..”.

He was standing there in a trench coat and glasses.

Ah, for fuck sake.

Friday 6^th Nov

Right – this is a serious business. Ray D’Arcy WILL read out an email about this blog thus propelling me to international superstardom. I started up a group on facebook called Ray D’Arcy – You Will Bow To My Whims! to unite my fives and tens of fans in an email onslaught in a bid to get him to read it out. It’s for the good of the nation. God, look at what I have become - a facebook whore. If I wasn’t such a laugh I might consider hating myself.

Saturday 7^th Nov & Sunday 8^th Nov

This weekend was like the number one wasted weekend in the history of the universe. I literally just facebooked all weekend – that’s right, it’s a verb now. It was all rainy and pissy outside and I was longing for home. You know when it’s a really shitty day outside but you’re all snuggly at home with the fire blazing and the cupboard stocked, you can’t bayte it boy.

I’m really looking forward to going home. Every year about this time I start getting really worked up about returning to the motherland. If there was an award for best family Christmas we would totally get it. Like it’s not a Jacques family Christmas, nay, a Jacques family gathering unless someone pisses themselves.

Take last Christmas, for example. It’s my uncle Paddy’s birthday on Christmas day so he was in our house having dinner with us. After dinner then he went in to the sitting room to sit down and we were around the corner in the dining room getting his cake ready. I had a packet of candles where each candle was a letter that spelled out “happy birthday” but in the end there weren’t enough letters so mammy had the bright idea of just putting “B” for birthday. So then my sister’s husband pipes up “What’s the B for?” and Daddy said “B for Bollix”.

B for Bollix like. My father said that. Looking back, that was the indicator of the hilarity to come – Daddy was clearly giddy like.

When we were finished laughing Mammy goes “No, it’s B for Birthday” and the brother-in-law says “Bertie? I thought his name was Paddy!” So that started us all off again.

And then someone was like “Put P for Paddy” so were like yeah that’s nice. And we had the cake all set up and we were in formation ready to march into the sitting room when Daddy pipes “P, lovely – now he’s a prick.”

Well lads.

On the ground I was. The reason why it was so funny is it didn’t have anything to do with Uncle Paddy, who is lovely, but it had everything to do with the fact that Daddy was giddy and wanted to say dirty words.

Anyway then we all got it together and got back into position and we were taking in the breath to sing Happy Birthday when all of a sudden Daddy was like “Take the cake! Take the cake! I cant hold it!" And then he started crying with the laughing and had to get down on his hands and knees, and shur jaysus then that set us all off again.

Needless to say I pissed myself. Don’t judge me now – if you were in our house when we are together you would piss as well. Literally every time, at least one of us pisses themselves. My sister Hazel uses the fact that she just had a baby as an excuse. Yeah yeah.

Anyway we were all rolling around in the dining room with the cake on the dining table with the candle burning down to nothing and here is poor Uncle Paddy sittin in the sitting room, completely oblivious. I don’t know what happens; I think we all get in a giddy mood around Christmas. So anyway then we all had to pick ourselves up and go in “Happy Birthday to you etc..” and the tears rolling down our cheeks and the soggy jeans on me. Good times!

I’d say if my sister Hazel is reading this at her desk she is probably after pissin herself. I’d say there’s not a dry seat in the house like. But it’s not her fault lads! Come on like – she just had a baby!

Week Four

Lads I feel terrible for rantin on about the poor fella with the sign outside the supermarket in last week’s post. I mean I walked past him today and I said hello to him and I’m not sure right, but I think he might be a bit simple! God forgive me!

Monday 26^th Oct

Yer man in the first room’s family are STILL here. God I wish they’d piss off home for themselves. I think they are actually sleeping in there with him. Every time I go to the kitchen one of them is in there, gawkin up into my face. It’s not fair that they are stayin here because only one person will fit in the kitchen at a time and I have to wait for them to finish spit roasting their pig or whatever they’re doing in there before I can make my crispy pancakes. SO annoying.

Went out to training tonight anyway, but I was feeling seriously dodgy so I left early. As I was walking through the car park one of the lads left at the same time as me and he was loadin up the boot of his car. “See ya” I says as I walk past. I was walking down the road then and he passed me. He pulled up beside me. “Hop in” he goes. Well I didn’t have to be asked twice. So I walked towards the car and shur you know what I did next. Like you just KNOW I went to open the drivers door, out of pure habit like, since the cars are the other way around over here. Thankfully though, I copped on and saved myself at the last minute and walked around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat.

Now bear in mind it was pitch black so I couldn’t really see much, but I could FEEL how massive he was in the car. He was a GIANT like. Big rippling muscly arms and legs everywhere. So we were chattin away anyway and then there was a moment of silence. I can’t help myself in moments like these and I just burst out laughing, and literally a nanosecond later, he burst out laughing, as if he was going to do it anyway even if I hadn’t. So then we were both doing that “aaaah’ thing you say after you’ve just been laughing your head off, and he reached over and took my hand in his GIANT shovel hand. My little hand was LOST in his. “Lorenzo” he goes. I got butterflies in me ovaries, like when you go over a hill in the car. So he dropped me off outside my house anyway and I was like, “Thanks boy you’re a gent”, and he goes “we’ll see each other Wednesday.” “Yeah” I says, “talk to you then.” And as I was walking in the gate, it hit me. I never even saw his face. It literally could be any one of the lads. Sure odds are there’s about 47 Lorenzos among them! Shit. Now most people would be thinking “shur you’ll know him when you se him” but I actually won’t. If he had given me a lift in the blazing sunlight I still wouldn’t be able to identify him in a line-up. You know the way some people can’t tell the difference between "oriental" people ie all people from Japan/Korea/Mongolia etc fall under the umbrella term “Chinese”? Well that is literally how I am about Italians. They are all the image of each other, especially the fellas. I guess I’ll just have to play this one by ear.

Tuesday 27^th Oct

Run down to the supermarket to grab me few bits. Yer man with the sign was there but just as I was passing someone stopped to give out to him. Yessssss! Off the hook! Went down the homewares section because I broke the handle off my butter knife. While actually cutting through some butter. I know, I don’t believe it either. So I look up at all the cutlery hanging up and look for the butter knives. Then I see them, no wait, that must be wrong – EIGHT euro? Eight euro for a butter knife with a plastic handle. And a cat MUSTARD coloured plastic handle at that! Eddie says NO! I tell you now I’d rather fashion one from flint than pay eight euro for a feckin butter knife. Shocking.

Went home anyway and started this weeks’ blog post. I have to say now, I gets an oul buzz off writing the blog. I’d love to do something like this for a living. What can I do to make this happen, I am thinking. I must do something to catalyse this change I say to myself. I know! I’ll email an extract from the blog to Ray D’Arcy! Perfect! Sure he’s bound to read it out and start the ball rolling on the international superstardom front. Grand. Fire off the email, delighted outta me head. Set the alarm for early the next morning.

Wednesday 28^th Oct

Me feckin nerves! Couldn’t sleep at all last night because a) I am praying Ray reads out my email and b) my friend Meghan is due her baby today and I was so up in a heap about that I’m waiting to go into labour myself! Got up at the crack of dawn. Showered and dressed, full face of make up now, in case Ray rings me. I wouldn’t want him to hear me without makeup like haha! I turned on the laptop and went to start streaming Today FM. It wouldn’t work. Tried literally everything, links websites, live radio websites, links from boards etc. Nothing worked. I could listen to 2fm, WLRfm, Beatfm and every other station on Earth as much as my heart desired, but the Today fm stream was broken. I could have screamed!

In desperation I started begging people to listen to it for me and ended up with a small but powerful army of friends listenin in for me (thanks again lads). In the end he didn’t read it out. How dare he like, I mean honestly, how rude. Of course now I was already after imagining him reading it out, then the whole of Ireland logs onto my blog, leaves millions of comments, all become my followers. Word spreads quickly to Ireland’s top newspapers/magazines/agents and by four o’ clock that day I have a column in U magazine and a three book deal with Poolbeg. I struggle to adjust to the new reality that this won’t be happening. I plunge into the bottomless depths of misery. Sigh.

So I went up to make my lunch anyway. Just as I left my room, the fella that just moved into the room beside me came out of his, wrestling a packet. “Well!” I said, “How are you boy?” “Oonga boonga polski sklep” he said back to me. “What?” I goes, “Oonga boonga polski sklep” he said. Now lads, I’m fairly confident in the aul Italian and I can understand basically everything I hear, but holy God, this fella’s accent, I didn’t have notion of what he was saying. And the fact he was saying it at a squillion miles an hour didn’t help.

“Look boy", I said, "I seriously don’t understand you, you will have to speak more clearly if you don’t mind” “Would you have a pair of scissors til I open this packet”, he says. Well that’s what I presume he said anyway, since he was making a scissors sign with his fingers. I gave him a pair of scissors anyway and he came down to the kitchen with me and we were chatting. When I said my name was Jennie he said “you’re not from Italy anyway with a name like that” (“Or a head like that” which is what is he really wanted to say.) “Nah, I’m Irish” I said. “Oh lovely” he said. So he was talking on and on, and I was like “yeah, boy, ah yeah haha etc”. Didn’t have a CLUE what he was talking about. I literally couldn’t understand a word he was saying in his quare accent.

Next thing “how old are you?” he asked me. International code for “are yeh ridin?” I was like, eh, there’s a question like. And I looked up from my crispy pancakes and he went on the worlds giantest reddener. 25 I said, how old are YOU? And he was morto, “em, a little bit younger.” “How much younger I said?” “Nineteen” he said under his breath. “Ah nineteen!” I said, “you’re only a baby.” Shoulder slap. Haaaates tha’ boy ha ha!

Anyway I served up me dinner and went down to the room and was chomping away on it when I heard his door open and he knocked on my door to give me back the scissors. I opened the door, still chewing and he was standing there with the scissors in his hand…..and a pair of sunglasses on him. “Thank you” he said in English. “You’re welcome” I said. “Buon appetito, Bella”, he said, over the rim of his sunglasses. Oh jaysus! Jaysus! Is he…. is he wooing me? I cant cope! I just gave him a big smile and went to put the scissors back in the drawer and here I looks in the mirror and there’s a half a head of iceberg lettuce stuck in me teeth. Well he’s not wooing me anymore anyway.

Still in the depths of despair I study for a few hours and then turn on my laptop to check my emails. Here’s one from Jac Flavin with a pdf attachment. What’s this all about like? I clicked on it anyway, and lo! There on the screen came up a scan of a section of the Waterford Today with a little piece about my blog. Well lads. I had to sit down. And then I had to stand up. And then I had to sit down again. I was buzzin! In your face Ray D’Arcy! I don’t need you! (But if you could mention my blog that would be nice, please and thanks.) Here it is for those of you who don't have the pleasure of having the Waterford Today "trun" in your letterbox of a Wednesday morning.

On the world's biggest high I went to training and Iwas like, right, I don’t know what Lorenzo looks like, but if he says well to me I’ll know its him. So I walked in the door and this HUGE fella was standing there lookin at me. “Well girl!” he goes, “Well boy how are you?” I go, thinking this must obviously be him, until another identical fella came over and was like “well girl!” and then another four identical fellas. Ah jaysus. This is gone beyond a joke.

Thursday 29^th Oct

Right the fella in the first room is really takin the piss. Every time I turn around his father is standing there with a bowl of grapes. I have literally never seen him without a grape in his hand. Every time I go to the kitchen his mother is in there “you’re not cooking?” she says. No I’m not now anyway, not with you up in me ockster, and your husband chewing a grape in me ear. Fuck sake like.

Friday 30^th Oct

Went down to the supermarket to get my bit of shoppin after studying all day yesterday. Passed the fella with the sign (sharp pang of guilt) and into the supermarket – I couldn’t believe how packed it was in there. What harm I says to myself, I don’t mind queuing.

Well I went and joined the queue and since it was an Italian style queue, the people behind me were actually standing next to me, a woman and her two little sons, about three and four they were. One of them was done up like Batman and the other one was done up like a giraffe. Batman poked his mother and pointed up at me “Mammy, Mammy, she’s beautiful!” “That’s right boy,” the mother said and we were both laughing. So the mother said “hang on I’m after forgetting something, stay there now boys and don’t move!” so she ran off to get whatever it was she forgot and the giraffe started crying and Batman started doing something ten times worse than crying; he started whining. Crying I could listen to all day, but whining - don’t get me started.

So I said “Boys I have to tell you a secret” And the two of them looked up at me dumbstruck. “You can’t tell anyone now ok?” Imperceptible nods. “I’m a princess from the land of Tir na nOg.” Two tiny jaws drop to the floor. “And when I hear children crying it makes me cry too, so don’t cry ok?” More open-mouthed nodding. Their mother was coming back so I said “Don’t tell anyone ok?” And the fella in the queue in front of me had his back to me but his shoulders were heaving and he pissin himself with the laughing. The mother came back anyway and the giraffe was like “Mamma, Mamma!” about to tell her, but Batman gave him the elbow and he shut up. Ah, lying to small children – one of life’s simpler pleasures!

Saturday 31^st Oct

Me and my band of merry bitches head out to Decathlon, this giant sports superstore to get some new gear for running. We were supposed to go running that night, but we were so overexcited we ended up spending hours in there and instead went home tired and weary (but delighted outta our heads) and chillaxed instead.

Sunday 1^st Nov

God, I really have to find a job. I’ve already tried all the English schools here but one of them doesn’t need any more staff and the rest seem to have come down with a bout of Ray D’Arcy syndrome and haven’t got back to me yet.

At the moment my only source of income is the ads on this blog page which make me a whopping squillionth of a cent per click. Still though, Eddie says it all adds up! Sure if I save it all up I might be able to buy myself a sally lun for Christmas. Maybe even a sliced bun. Dream big like. Anyway now I’m thinking more about looking for some work in transcription. We’ll see how that pans out.

It was another lovely week in Pavia, thanks in no small part to Jac Flavin and her legendary journalistic skills – thanks again Jac! The thesis is coming along nicely, as are my rippling shoulder muscles. The mystery of Lorenzo continues, but don’t worry lads – I’m on it!

P.S. A lot of people have been asking me how to become followers of the blog. All you have to do is scroll down to the part at the side where it says "Come follow me, children!" and click on "Follow", a new window will open up and you fill in the blanks. Then you turn around three times and say the Hail Mary backwards. Done!