Week Twenty Five - Subterranean Homesick Blues

Oh Holy God. I have it bad. I actually have a physical NEED to go home. It's giving me pains, like. Although that could be less to do with the homesickness and more to do with the fajitas we had for dinner last night.

To be honest lads I haven't been up to much this week, just crossing days off the calendar until the 31st when meseff and himseff are jetting back to the motherland for a few days. This week's grey days were punctuated by mortification and drunkenness though. Here's the highlights:

There is a new fella on our floor. A nice fella now, English speaker with a lovely accent. Didn't know what it was though until Tuesday night when I was taking scones out of the oven and he said:

"That smells really good."

"Ah thanks", I said and then went down the room to put one on a plate for him in the spirit of neighbourly goodness. Knocked on his door then and we had the chat about who we are where we come from. Turns out he's Canadian. He doesn't speak Italian and he is here to do a course for two months. Grand.

The next day anyway I was going to a funk gig that one of the lads is playing at and I said I'd invite the new fella along, seeing as loads of the lads speak English so he wouldn't feel like a tool. I went down to his room anyway. Knock knock.

He comes out.

"Oh hello."

"Well are you doing anything tonight?" I goes.

"Nothing much." says he.

"Do you like funk?" I ask.

"Nah not really", he goes.

"Pity now cos I'm going to a funk gig tonight and I was asking you along."

"What about your boyfriend...?"

This, like most things to do with awkward romantic situations, was lost on me. So I continued on, oblivious:

"Nah BBB's not coming, but all my friends speak English so no Italian is required."

"Um no, I'm not really into funk. Thanks though. Have a good night."

"Oh. Right. Eh, thanks, see ya."

I turned around then and walked slowly back to my room like "what the fuck just happened?"

A feeling crept over me. It wasnt until I was halfway back to me room that I copped on to what it was.

Mortification.

How did I know? Because all the classic symptoms were present: the big red head on me, the shaky knees, the SAS.

I suddenly copped on.

He thought I was asking him to come out in a rosemantic fashion.

Behind my boyfriend's Big Brown Back. Christ.

I thought about turning around and explaining myself, but that would only have done more harm than good.

Morto.

Now every time I want to go to the kitchen and BBB is not there to cover me I stick my head out the door and suss out the situation and then I leg it up at top speed, wrench whatever I need out of the fridge and then peg it back to the room, all the while praying he doesn't emerge from his room.

I just have to keep this up for two months, then I'm home free!

The rest of the week anyway was spent counting the seconds until our special Friday night: 89c prosecco in our scunders.

I woke up Friday morning, buzzing off me head, then I went to the supermarket and got 2 bags of jellies and 2 bottles oof prosecco for under €4 (I love Italy) and went home. In the evening I went for a cocktail with the girls, then I returned home to prepare the area for the calamity ahead.

After dinner myself and Gianluca took off our trousers (obligatory) and put our legs under the duvet and sat side by side drinking the prosecco straight from the bottles.

The next thing I remember is waking up Saturday morning.

I went into the bathroom to tinkle and the next thing I looked down and I was wearing a pair of red knickers.

That's odd.

I could have sworn I was wearing pinstripe knickers last night.

And what's more, when I went to pull them back up, something wasn't right. Something was definitely...amiss. I squirmed around a bit, and then I realised.

They were on sideways.

As in a leghole for a waist like.

I took them off and put them on again properly and went out of the bathroom laughing my head off.

"What's so...jesus!" BBB goes.

I looked down. There was a giant "scraw-eb" on my thigh, at least 4 inches long and 47 inches deep. It's ok though, it was balanced by the dinner plate-sized bruise on my other shin.

I have NO recollection of how either came into being. Or how I came to be wearing the red knickers.

I do know it was a BRILLIANT night though.

On Saturday then I had the world's worst hangover so we stayed in and relaxed for ourselves.

Then BBB suggested I try a puzzle game on the interweb.

4 hours later, he is rubbing muscle relaxant cream into my shoulders and neck and trying to pry my bloodied finger from the mousepad.

He should know better than to show me puzzle games.

I fucking LOVE puzzles.

On Sunday then we started PACKING OUR SUITCASE!!!!!

Excitement!

We'd be there folding up stuff and every three things folded we'd do a little excitement dance. Then we'd fold another three things. The give each other Excitement Digs. You know the ones. They are very similar to Love Digs.

Love Digs are what happens when you love something or someone so much that instead of hugging it or kissing it, you want to dig the head off it. Like my nephew Jack, for example. Every time I see a picture of him, instead of wanting to squeeze him and kiss him and hug him, I simply want to dig the little red head off him.

BBB suffers from a similar condition, called Love Seamuses. Sometimes he looks at me and goes:

"C'mere to me you!"

And as he pulls me onto the bed he INVARIABLY gives me a seamus. I mean without fail. He's after giving me at least twenty.

"Jesus! Me leg, ya bastard!"

"Oh no, have I seamussed you Love?"

"What do you think?"

"Here, give me a deadner back".

*Offers arm.

WHUMP!

"Mamma mia, you bastard!"

"Bastard is for boys and bitch is for girls."

"Oh right, sorry Love. You beech."

Lads I love when he speaks English. He says wonderful things like "Have you got your menstruation?" and "He wanted to go out with her but she renounced him."

Renounced, like.

Love Digs.

Week Twenty Two

Lads I promise I wasn't being the boldest girl in Ireland yesterday, but my interweb was on the blink again and I couldn't get into my blogger account. Anyway you can't be mad at me, seeing as I'm now a cripple. Read on...

Monday 1st March

Christ. The fella in the first room's mother is back. Every time I go to cook something she is down there taking up all four hob rings and generally giving me ire. And she doesn't just spend a half an hour cooking up the lunch either - oh no. She is down there milking the cow to churn the butter to fry the onions with like.

Every night I make scones to eat for our breakfast the next morning. Today I went to put them in the oven and surprise surprise - there she is. Then she has the cheek to offer me some helpful advice.

"No you put them on the other shelf."

Now lads. If you want to give me ire, just try and tell me how to cook my own food. I am the scone master, noone beats me in the scone stakes like.

Then she went on to ask me what kind of pre-packaged pastry I used for them!

I gave her the laser death stare.

"I make everything from scratch." Laser death beam gaze.

Then I had to go down the room and bang a few saucepans around.

No like, just no.

Tuesday 2nd March

You know the way they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach? Well it's true!

One day, shortly after BBB came back from his Chirstmas holidays he was sitting at his desk when he did a big dramamtic sigh.

"I miss Mamma." he goes. No surprises there, seeing as this is an entire nation of Mammy's Boys.

"Aw, why's that?", I goes.

"I miss her cooking and her bringing me snacks."

Now I don't know what happened, but that flicked a switch deep inside me and since then I have been plying him with home baked goods and top notch dinners. I think I'm actually addicted to feeding him. Every time I put a plate down in front of him he looks up at me with these puppy dog eyes and goes "I love you." No really, every time.

There is something so satisfying about watching a man eat. I love it!

"You spoil me girl," he says every time I put a plate of something fresh baked in front of him (after he says he loves me).

"Will I stop?", I usually answer.

"Christ, no!" says he, "Pass the jam, please."

Even considering how much I spoil him, he hasn't turned into spoilt shithead. In fact I have found that the more I spoil him, the more I become his queen.

This pleases me.

Wednesday 3rd March

Every night we fall asleep in the same position and then during the night I break away for some Jennie time and then in the morning when the alarm goes off he pulls me in for a five minute snuggle before we have to get up. This morning was no different.

Drrrrrrrrring! Drrrrrrrring!

"C'mere you til I snuggle the head off ya!" he goes.

And then proceeds to pull me into him, while simultaneously bending his knee. Why like, just why? Why on earth would you pull your girlfriend into you while bending your knee?

The obvious result was that he kneed me square in the gooter (pronounced "gew-thor"). As a good friend Jac would say "I didn't get a knee in the fanny since school."

It's still tender.

Thursday 4th March

For the last few weeks, every time I go for a run my hip hurts me. I thought I was just working some deep down muscles but now I feel something more sinister is at work. On Monday night as usual my hip was hurting me, but I didn't think anything of it. On Tuesday and Wednesday I stayed at home doing a bit of work, plus it was raining so I wasn't too bothered going outside. But today I ventured out to go into town and Christ! The pain!

I started off walking and I could feel a little niggle, five steps later I was limping like a leper. It's not a sharp kind of a pain, it's an aching pain, and more than anything the frustration of it is driving me crazy. It is just there.

I feel like I want to either feel the pain or not feel it. I don't want this kind of presence. It's like a shadow or something lurking in there, driving me nuts. I feel like I need someone to break my hip or pop it or something. I am fairly close to doing it myself, to be honest.

Since then anyway I have been doing extreme to the max yoga hoping that in some crazy stretch position it might pop or something. Me nerves!

Friday 5th March

Today I limped into Laura's and we did some fun activities including baking some amazing lemon and blueberry breakfast bread. I brought a loaf home for myself and BBB and when I got back to the house I was emptying the contents of my bag out onto the bed, just organising myself a bit. The next thing BBB bursts in:

"There she is! Come here to me you!" and scoops me up and starts swinging me around and then he plonked himself down on the bed with me in his arms.

A distinct squashing noise could be heard.

"Get. Up. Now."

He got up and we turned around to look at the bed. Sure enough, the cake was as flat as a pancake. It was in one of those disposable baking tins that's like the chinese box you get a 3-in-1 in. Needless to say it was completely concertina-ed.

If it wasn't so funny I would have murdered him.

"Jesus look at it!" I goes, peeling back the lid.

"God yeah, we should definitely eat it all now," he goes.

"I think you might be right", says I, "just to be sure like".

Om nom nom.

Saturday 6th March

Had a nice day today gettin up to various fun activities and in the night BBB headed off to Switzerland to see some car show. He was dying for me to go with him but I would literally rather he die than me have to go to a car show.

Harsh but true. I wouldn't drag him around a knitting show like.

Actually that's a lie. I totally would.

Sunday 7th March

I had a lovely day all to myself with BBB gone to Switzerland for the day. I indulged in various bidet-related activities and watched 47 thousand episodes of Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy.

Then I hobbled to the supermarket and then I came home and did some extreme yoga. Exciting stuff, I hear you say.

BBB came back from Switzerland around 9.

"Jesus I missed you!" he goes.

"Sit down there boy and have the last scone", says I.

"Ah I couldn't, that's yours," he said.

"I kept it for you."

"Ah you're the best, you're always spoiling me. I love you."

It's good to be queen.

Week Twenty

This week lads was decidedly better than last week because we got a new oven in the house and.... what was the other thing? Oh yeah. The THREE Blog Award nominations! That's all like. Just the three. As in nominated not once, not twice, but thrice. Just to be clear. There are three.

Monday 15th Feb

Not much going on today during the day, but in the evening myseff and himseff decided to go to a carnevale party that was going on downstairs at the last minute. You have to go wearing a mask, and we had nary a mask between us so we had to do ourselves up with my Urban Decay eyeliners. He wanted a Maori mask yoke so I did that for him and then I had no time so I drew a shitty Zorro inspired black yoke over me eyes (see below). That'll do me grand says I and off we went. For about a half an hour and then we nearly died of boredom so we went back upstairs and washed each other's faces and watched a film. Party animals or wha?

Tuesday 16th Feb

Monday pales into insignificance when one considers that this particular Tuesday is the Most Wonderful Day of The Year. That's right - Pancake Tuesday! I nearly forgot though, until I logged onto Facebook because there is no Pancake Tuesday over here. I didn't have Mammy's magical recipe either, but my good friend Amy came to the rescue and gave me one.

I made the batter and left it aside to sit for a while and then I was just tidying up and whatnot when I went to throw away the egg box of the eggs that I used for the batter. On said eggbox it said "best before 13th Feb".

Ah bollix.

Ran down to the shop at top speed and got new eggs. Whipped up another thing of batter. When they were ready to roll I strode down to the kitchen with a confident swagger and flipped up a storm. There were "oohs" and "aahs" all over the place. That's right, people, stand aside! Professional at work here! BBB never had a pancake before in his long legged life, the poor child. Talk about a joyless existence. We had them with jam, doce de leite and lemon juice and sugar. Om nom nom.

Then we had to have a little lie down.

Wednesday 17th Feb

Today I noticed that something is definitely happening. Something is definitely going on here. I realised when I was sick in the night and went into BBB's room to hug the toilet bowl in peace. When I opened the door, I couldn't believe what I saw. His room was empty. Nothing in it like. A tumbleweed or two, maybe. I realised I hadn't been in there for quite some time. Neither had he, for that matter. That we were, in fact, living together in my room. Interesting. I went back into my room, and realised it was like a, dare I say it, it was like a home, rather than a rotten room in a fucking hovel of a building that I absolutely hate. No, there was something distinctly homely about it: my little shoes lined up next to his big shoes, our matching water glasses, his stuff neatly put away next to my stuff.

How the fuck did this happen? Where was I for all this...this...osmosis? Literally everything except his toothbrush is in here. Every morning and night he brushes his teeth in his own bathroom, though. When the toothbrush makes the journey in here, that's when we know it's serious.

Thursday 18th Feb

Nothing too exciting, I went to work and then met Laura, we went back to my place and watched several thousand episodes of Desperate Housewives and then I tailored the sleeves on her top.

Rock and roll!

Friday 21st Feb

Woke up delighted cos I just knew in my heart that today would be Pancake Friday, and I was right! Made a big feed for brunch and then went to supermarket to get ingredients for Obscenely Toothsome Steak Sandwiches for dinner. In the meantime, while I was away, a man came and put in a new oven in our kitchen! I couldn't believe it! Finally we have an oven! The steak sandwiches were breathtaking.

Today is a good day.

Saturday 20th Feb

Minded my own business today, just lurked around doing my Saturday things. Went onto my blog to answer my comments in the evening and here was one from Niamh:

"Haha have just come across your blog thanks to your Blog Award nomination - well done!
This post had me laughing several times, brilliant. Will be back to read more, looking forward to it "

Excuse me? What's that now? Blog Award nomination? I typed in the Blog Awards website so fast into the keyboard that there was smoke comin off the keys. I scanned down the nominees.

Jennifer Alice In Wonderland. There I was. Three times. I'm in the Best Newcomer, Best Personal Blog and Best Humour categories. Me nerves.

I had to sit down. Then I had to stand up. Then I had to sit down again. Then I had to do a little dance. Then I had to explain to BBB why I was doing a little dance.

It's just nice like, to know that people were nominating me. Anyway I was bustin to tell me Mam and Dad but I didn't have any credit. I went onto facebook where my knight in stalking armour Nigel came to my rescue by going to the shop and getting me credit. Thanks Nigel! (Can I have my knickers back now please?)

I rang my mother and father and sister and brother and anyone else who would care to listen. They all did a little dance for me. In fact I think my sister Hazel is going to Galway to "represent" me at the awards yoke. I seriously hope they have bidets at that hotel!

There are some deadly blogs nominated lads, so have a little lurk here and dirty them with your eyes.

Sunday 21st Feb

Now lads. Some of you may remember from reading Week Three that I have an absolute fear of fire and the house burning down and whatnot.

With that in mind, let me tell you what went down on Sunday.

BBB has a terrible habit that makes me very nervous and tonight he found out why. When he boils the water for the pasta, he takes the lid off the pot when the water is hot enough and puts it on one of the other cold hob rings. Now this always gives me the heebie jeebies but I never say anything I just take it off and put it on the counter instead. Tonight he was cooking pasta and I was down the room on the interweb. I went up to the kitchen to say hello to him and he goes:

"Do you get the terrible smell of gas?"

"I'm getting a bang of something alright. Open the window there."

"I hope that stupid fucker connected the oven up right."

"It's an electric oven love."

"Oh yeah."

So I went back down the room and the next thing BBB comes sprinting in through the door:

"Oh Christ! Oh fuck! The hob ring was on and the lid is after fusing to it!"

I booted it up to the kitchen - the glass lid was on the back ring and the plastic handle was after melting into a pile of molten plastic disgustingness. The fumes would knock a horse. I tried to push it off the ring and the next thing - didn't it fucking catch on fire!

Now lads. Lads.

The minute I saw the flames, several thousand episodes of Rescue 999 started flashing through my mind. Fire extinguishers were dancing with melting dolly's legs and the like. I'm not joking you, it struck terror into my very core. After the first terrified nanosecond, an eerie calm washed over me. I looked behind the door for a mini fire extinguisher. Nothing. I looked in the room where the fuse box is. Nothing. I ran out into the hall where there is the giant extinguisher that you have to smash the glass to get out. I scanned it. It wasn't the electrical fire one. Unbelievable. Every kitchen like ours should have one of those baby little ones for electrical fires that you can just pick up and give a quick blast and that's all there is to it.

Anyway I ran back into the kitchen where the flames were getting bigger and BBB was standing in front of them flapping the tea towel at them. I believe the correct term here is fanning the flames. There was no fire blanket or anything. I wasn't sure what to do. In the end I decided to wet the tea towel and put it over the burning lid.

"Gimme that tea towel til I wet it!" I goes.

BBB was in such a flap the words couldn't enter his brain, and he fanned the flames even more furiously.

"Love, give it to me."

More frantic tea towel flapping.

"Come on now I'll give it back."

"Ok," says he, and gave the tea towel one more furious flap which miraculously extinguished all the flames.

Sigh of relief!

BBB goes into combat mode.

"Open all the windows! These fumes are toxic!"

"Yes, Commander!"

The next thing he takes the glass top that was literally on fire until two seconds ago and picks it up with the tea towel and throws it into the bin. It should be worth mentioning here that the "bin" is a black sack.

"STOP!" I goes, but it was too late. It burned straight through the plastic and smashed into molten plastic-covered smithereens on the floor.

Sigh.

He is an engineer. He is a genius like. As I type this he is at the other side of the desk doing the world's most impossible sums.

It's so funny that when we panic we forget everything we ever knew about how to deal with these situations. Thankfully my formative years were spent watching mental health scarring telly programmes like Rescue 999.

After that ordeal we went down the room where we looked at each other with two big serious heads on us and promptly burst out laughing. Then just to make sure, we googled how long we had left to live after inhaling the fumes. A good while yet, it would seem.

He promised never to put the lid on the hob ring again. But only cos now we have no lid to put there!