Week Thirty Six

Monday 21st June

Today I was a very bold girl and I didn't write my blog. I was too busy trying to repress the memory of the incident on the train. You see the thing with my very highly developed brain is that it made the connection between taking a train and terrible things happening so that now every time I have to take the train to work I am literally a quivering mess on the platform and have to block it out the whole way to Milan. No matter how much I try to mind-over-matter it I still gets the heebies jeebies.

Sigh.

Me and my nerves.

On the upside though I am extrmemely smug about the seven stone I lost on my liquid diet in the hospital.

Hee hee.

Tuesday 22nd June

This day last week I got a facebook comment from my American niece who was somewhat bemused my use of her name in week thirty four's blog.

Her name is Mary Bridget.

I'll say no more.

Wednesday 23rd June

When BBB collected me off the train from Milan this evening we were having a nice chat as we came out of the station. A bit of rubbish blew over my ballerina shoed foot.

Hang on a second.

Blew over my foot? That's odd, seeing as there is no such thing as wind in Pavia. Not even a gentle breeze like.

I looked down.

And that's when I saw them.

The cockroaches.

They were EVERYWHERE. Scuttling all over the place, the size of human heads.

"Jesus CHRIST!" I roared, and started jumping all over the place, because there were literally hundreds of them, all over the place, moving at speed towards my little feet.

I'll tell you now lads I've never walked home so fast in my life. Me skin was crawling up the road ahead of me like. Bleurgh!

Thursday 24th June

Ladies and gentlemen, a word about cuntomers.

I love my job, and I loved it when I was doing it in Dublin, but sweet mother of the divine lord sometimes I want to stab people in the face. Today this woman came in and I served her and she bought a few little things. Thanks very much and have a nice day missus. She went out across the road to Sephora. Then she came back and said to the other girl:

"Hiya, I just bought some stuff there and I didn't get any samples."

The other girl was like

"Yeeees?"

"Well can I have some samples?"

I fucking HATE when people ask for samples. ESPECIALLY after they spend 50p and expect you to give them the whole shop for free. Usually I am very generous with samples and demos and all the rest, but if the person isn't very nice and only spends four euro and doesn't say thanks after I spent ages doing every demo in the shop then I am not very inspired to give them loads of free stuff. You see people know you will do demos and all lovely things to them so they just come in to get the royal treatment and then fuck off without so much as a thank you.

So the other girl goes

"Eh, yes here is a sample of one of our lovely soaps, it is made from.."

"No, no, I want some skincare samples."

Now hang the fuck on here.

It is FREE. You do NOT get to choose, you fucking cockeyed wench.

I felt like saying oh you want to choose do you missus?

Well you can choose between this:

or this:

What'll it be?

Friday 25th June

Today meseff and himseff went for lunch cos we were feeling fancy. With my blood levels in mind I ordered the steak.

For the good of my health like.

He ordered pasta.

Silly BBB.

When the lunches came out his looked lovely. But mine was glorious. The steak took up the ENTIRE plate, everyone was looking at it. It was bathing in its own juices.

And I was bathing in my own juices just looking at it.

It was melt in the mouth; so tender, so delicious. Om nom nom.

On the way back from the restaurant we passed a girl that I vaguely know and BBB even vaguelier knows through me. We said well in passing.

"She never says well to me when I am on my own" BBB said.

"I don't know what her problem is, it's not like she has a fanny of gold."

A fanny of gold.

Fire up the bidet.

Saturday 26th & Sunday 27th June

Worky worky work work.

I had a bit of a moment in work. There I was exfoliating someone's arm and giving the spiel when all of a sudden I was struck by a sudden realisation.

I work in Milan. In a shop. In Italian.

When I was little I was stuck to my Mammy's leg and didn't want to go anywhere.

Now I commute to Milan every day and battle my way through the metro, get off and go up the exit stairs into Piazza del Duomo so this is the first thing I see above ground when I get off the metro:

Then I cross the road to the shop where I work all day in Italian without even breaking a sweat.

Then after work I hop on a train home and my gorgeous Italian Stallion who I love so much it's actually disgusting picks me up at the station and we go home to our horrible little hovel.

Lads I have to admit like.

I'm kinda bad ass.

Except for that last bit about the hovel.