Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Week Twelve

Saturday 29th March

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. The first dark cloud appears over the horizon of our happy life together. From here on in it will be known as The Mood. Such a mood descended on dear old Flesh Tunnels, and such an effect it had on me that even though I was starvin, I couldn't eat anything cos I felt a bit sick. I know, imagine that like. Things reached a head on the way to Roscrea at lunchtime, where words were exchanged by both parties which dissolved the mood and replaced it with a warm fuzzy feeling of loveliness. Got to his sisters house in one piece, but not before going to Lidl and buying two of The Cake. Yes, folks, thats correct! The Cake can now be purchased in a Lidl near you! What joy! Had a nice day Chez Flesh Tunnel's Sister then headed home and KFCed it up a notch, before crawling up the stairs on me hands and knees in a vegetable-like state of knackeredness.

Sunday 30th March

Nothing much doing today, bar slobbing on the couch and stuffing our faces, listening to the rain beating on the window panes - "leave us in will ye lads?" Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnah!

Monday 31st March

Got up at 5am. I know, how horrific. Flesh Tunnels kindly dropped me at Shannon to meet the mudder who was flying in from "The States". I met her upstairs in the restaurant. "Jennifer you look great" she tells me, reinforcing the fact that I had, indeed, a head only a mother could love. Fell into a deep coma in the back of the car all the way home, but perked up when we stopped at Centra on the quay, Waterford's premier chicken roll vendor. Munch munch munch all the way home and then had a powerful nap safe in the loving embrace of my electric blanket.

That evening Lurk Eile called over with a Limeleaf takeaway. Yum yum pig's bum. Was enjoying it until I looked down and saw the big swollen head on the dog, who had been out ridin all night and had obviously got a "baytin" off some other dog for ridin his missus. The panic and worry sucked the joy out of me dinner so I couldnt finish it. Lurk Eile and I spent the evening limbs entangled on the couch watchin Extreme Makeover, and then Chum called round. After Chum went, it was more Extreme Makeover for us and then an early night. She really is the best boyfriend I never had.

Tuesday 1st April

Was rudely awoken by Lurk Eile going off to work at an ungodly hour. She later rang me to confirm that my hair had achieved the ultimate feat of defying gravity when I poked my head from under the blanket. Got up, threw my stuff into my suitcase and headed up to Dublin on the train. Met Previous and Future Husband (from here on in known as Husband) at the station, paid a visit to Penneys, my spiritual home, but with Eddie's voice echoing in the back of my head after I spent a bit too much the preceeding weekend, I only bought a vest. Which is only fair cos I am one. Fair play to me. Headed back to Husband's house in Kildare for the night.Oh. My. God. WHAT a house.

Whatever about the rest of the house, but the bathroom. The bathroom, people. The bath is a sunken one that you have to walk up steps to get to. STEPS! WALK UP! Oh god. And the toilet is around the corner! Anyone that knows me knows that every fiber of my being is against peeing in front of, near, or in earshot of other people. However with the layout of this bathroom there is a possibility(if extremely slight) of me peeing when me mister is in the bath. All other bathrooms within a seven mile radius would have had to have been destroyed by nuclear bombs, and it would have to be the biggest emergency in the world that I pee RIGHT NOW, of course, for such an event to unfold, but if I absolutely HAD to do it, I know I wouldnt have to get years of extensive therapy after it, because Id be around the corner. Whoop! Same goes for peeing in a field, or anywhere that isnt a secure and spotless bathroom. So the 6 weeks of camping stretching ahead of me in France should be interesting.

Wednesday 2nd April

Wake up at 4. SCRAPE myself out of the bed and get a taxi to the airport. Thankfully my flight was empty, so I had the whole three seats to myself and I stretched out and had a lovely sleep. Stepping off the plane into the lovely warmth was amazing. I felt so happy to get back. I really missed speaking Italian and I missed my whole way of life over here and my little routines and habits. I LOVE this country so much. Walked in my front door about 1pm ish and dropped my stuff and headed over to the supermarket. Bought all lovely fresh stuff and headed home delighted. Passed the pizza place on my road and as I walked past the door a big cheer went up and they were all waving maniacally and screaming "Ciao!" out the door. At me, like. Little old me. I didnt even think they'd notice I was gone, but then again their takings must have dropped dramatically in the two weeks I was gone. Felt great after that, strolling home in the sunshine in my lovely neighbourhood where even the tabacchi always knows what I want. Wistful sigh.

Roommate comes in the front door and has a total shitfreak cos Im home. She has a new job and she looks great. Like she really looks bright and happy and Im delighted for her. Im not delighted that her alarm goes off at 6.45 am every morning, but its grand. Fran calls over, we have some nice rolls and then she heads off again into the sunset.

That night as I am snuggling in bed, Agnieszka takes her flip flops for a walk in and out of the room 73 million times. Calm yourself, Jennie, I say. Its your first night back. But not content with that, she kicks the bed TWICE and then to add insult to injury, she starts rooting in drawers, and Im not talking about having a quick look in the drawer here, Im talking about full-on rooting that is keeping people in Tokyo awake. Shut up with the drawer I said. Fair enough she stops. Only to start zipping and unzipping something, having a root inside it in between. Now I know sacrifices have to be made when you share a room with someone, such as me having to transfer to the kitchen to make internet love to my internet husband when she wants to go to sleep, but I mean for fuck sake. I dont want her to stop breathing or anything, I simply ask that she dulls her sonic activities to at least a deafening roar, like. She finally gets into bed, and my blood pressure returns to normal.

Thursday 3rd April

Im the best girl in the world today. I go to both my classes and dont whinge once. The first is *sigh* Hugues' class. Today he is wearing cream jeans and a sexy little jumper with a shirt underneath it (jumper and shirt combo Hugues - how did you know?) and a leather Madonna-esque biker jacket, showing off his more manly side. Today we are learning about how to talk on the telephone and to make learning fun (he ALWAYS makes learning fun) he has brought in two toy telephone walkie talkies that we have to have pretend conversations on. Sure God love him. He is so totally wonderful that I am completely willing to overlook the fact that the shirt underneath the jumper is most likely a short sleeved one, which everyone knows are only to be worn with a dickie bow on your communion day, and NEVER AGAIN. Oh Hugues!

Go home and have a lovely dinner, and head to bed knackered. Really miss the internet, as this would be the time that I usually catch up on America's Next Top Model, but instead had to settle for badly dubbed Walker Texas Ranger before bedtime. However during it, Roommate blurts out "Chuck Norris can cycle a bike without bending his knees" hahahahaha! She is such a fucking legend.

Thankfully Roommate heads to bed earlyish and instead of poking around every drawer and press in the room, I give her an Irish English lesson, teaching her such important words as "diddies" "fanny" "arseways" and "as tight as a camel's hole in a sandstorm". She obliges me by teaching me their equivalents in Polish. I really dont know what Im going to do without her next year.

Friday 4th April

Wake up and dive straight into some serious study, as I have an exam on Tuesday. About lunchtime, however, I get an attack of the crazies and head out to Lidl to buy myself a rake of shite, including The Cake. Yes, thats right, Im in daily remission. Im just one cake away from being addicted again. On the way I stop in a phonebox and ring Flesh Tunnels, hoping for some nuggets of wisdom, but instead I get The Mood. So off I go to Lidl and head home, bags bulging, and feeling pretty righteous as Eddie cant say a word cos Im still within my budget. Eat my weight in Spring Rolls and have a power nap.

That night, Roommate really outdoes herself. She cranks her flip flops up to 11, and takes several power walks in and out of the room, kicking the bed a record SEVEN times. I finally drift off, only to be woken to the sound of her munching an apple at record volume. It must have been the size of a fucking soccer ball cos she was at it for a good ten minutes before I respectfully informed her that up her fucking hole that apple was going if she didnt finish it fast. She finished the apple and I was feeling hopeful until she started listening to the radio on her phone through her earphones. She must be hard of hearing because she had it up REALLY loud. I was blocking it out though, and was just about to drift off when at 0.45am her phone rings. And she answers it. And commences a full blown conversation as if it was the middle of the day and I wasnt lying there trying to go asleep 2 foot away from her. I had enough. I just got up and took my duvet into the kitchen and slept on the couch.

Another week, another flip-flop fiasco, but Im pleased to say Ive made it with a WHOPPING ten euro to spare. Astonishing!

Week Eleven

Saturday 22nd March

Woke up full of the joys of Spring after the previous day's jaunts. Had planned a vigorous day's study but then Other Sister called out and I decided that going furniture shopping was a MUCH more constructive use of my time. After an unsuccessful few hours chest-of-drawers searching, I called up to see Chum's fantasmic new gaff. Had to head off early though, as there were vanilla slices to be made for dessert the next day, but not before shoving a fajita down my throat at top speeds as I waited for Dad to collect me (Note to self - get a fucking car Jen). Dad was taking suspiciously long however, and as my stomach tenderly cradled the part-chewed fajita and began the loving process of digesting it, my phone rang. What came through form the other end was basically a melange of grunts, vowels and jumbled up Swahili , ie, Dad giving out to me because I apparently wasnt in number 50, oh no. It would appear that Sandra has all this time been mistaken about her own address.

5 mins later I was standing out on the road waiting for Dad to drive past, and he pulls up, face like thunder. I get into the car and he starts eating the head off me "Thats not number 50 its number 51" Im like "Dad, it clearly says number 50 on it" and he then starts counting back from house number 53 "Look, 53, 52, 5..1.....sorry" He even went into number 49 and asked for Jennie. "Jennie who?" the fella at the door said, "Is this number 50" daddy said, "yeah" the fella answered. What can I say? Sure you'll have that in small towns.

Went home and whipped up some Leahy's recipe vanilla slices. They are simply glorious. I made them for the first time at Christmas, but this time it only took a fraction of the time as I didnt have to meticulously cut the puff pastry into the shape of a heart (dont bother - it takes AGES), which, it turned out, was completely POINTLESS as the person they were for never even saw them. Im sure the birds I ended up throwing it to appreciated it though. That personal touch, like. Was supposed to be headin into Chum's for a few sneaky ones that evening but was slaving over a hot pan of custard so had to decline, plus I was wrecked.

Sunday 23rd March

Easter Sunday hurrah! Headed into Sister's house for dinner - roast chicken yum yum! Really missed a nice roast chicken dinner, roast spuds, stuffing, and the reason sunday dinners exist - croquettes. Myself and Sister ploughed our way through a few bottles of whatever shite came to hand, think West Coast Cooler, Lidl Buck's Fizz, etc. The two of us were three sheets to the wind, to the extent that Daddy had to go home without me and we had to have a little lie down on her spare room floor, swiftly followed by nap time on the couch. Bliss!

Monday 24th March

Was supposed to go have The Magic Road Experience today, but shitty weather and lack of enthusiastic driver meant that it was called off. Instead, I ploughed through a spot of Dante if only to speed up time between then and the main event of the evening - BEEPING BINGO!!!

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept of Beeping Bingo, here is a short introductory lesson: Beeping Bingo takes place every Monday evening in the parking lot of the Wellington Bridge Community Hall, Co. Wexford. Participants park up in the parking lot, before going inside to buy their bingo books at the rock-bottom price of 3 books for a tenner. They then have a choice: either stay inside in the warmth of the hall and play bingo with senior parish members, or return to your car and open the window to hear the bingo numbers being called over a loudspeaker. If you choose the latter option, you must beep the horn if you get a check, at which point you must stick your hand out the window of your car, maniacally waving your bingo book. Once spotted, your car will be approached by a member of the bingo team, your numbers will be checked, and if correct, your prize will be hand delivered to you as you sit in the comfort of your car, buzzin off your head.

Needless to say copious amounts of fun were had, photographic evidence was made, and after Sister won a whole fiver (in coins, mind) and used it to mop the sweat from her bingo-wearied brow, there wasnt a dry seat in the house. Fun times!

Tuesday 25th March

I definitely did something wondrous on Tuesday, I just have no idea what it might be.

Wednesday 26th March

Went into Geoff's for a few sneaky little cheeky little reunion drinks with my peeps from Digifoto. We laughed, we cried, we ate, but mostly we drank. Watched with glee as some underagers were thrown out. Its the simple things in life that give me pleasure. Afterwards Paul was given the priviledge of being dropped home in the Lurkmobile, and Lurk Eile and I were given the priviledge of his world-renowned hospitality, ie, a wave from the front door.

Thursday 27th March

Headed into town with Luk Eile the next day to pick her out a new pair of glasses, but alas there were no nice ones, so spent some time going from sweet shop to sweet shop in search of a few of Flesh Tunnel's favourite things. Keep him quiet over the weekend, like. Went home, luxuriated in the jacuzzi for a bit, then packed my bag in preparation for a (not so) dirty weekend. Later that evening, I heard the unmistakeable wild cow moan of Flesh Tunnel's jeep blowing on the winds of South-Eastern Ireland, and I knew he was nearing. Ie still about an hour away. He pulls up the drive, just as Daddy is painting the inside windowsill of the living room. I prance out to the jeep merrily "Well!" Flesh Tunnels gingerly disembarks the vehicle, "Hows it going now?" he bleats as the colour drains from his face, which by now is contorted in a look of pure terror. "Well give us a kiss then" I say, puckering up. Nothing. Nada. Niente. I start thinking "Is he a gayer or what like?" but then I look up and see him anxiously eyeballing the sitting room window, convinced Daddy is giving him the evil stare of death out the window. What he doesnt know, is that Daddy wouldnt give a flying fuck if he stepped out of the jeep in head to toe gimp gear, with cloven hooves. This didnt seem to quiet his qualms, which resulted in me having to lug my suitcase out to the jeep unaided, as he sat there and waited for me to load it in. Hmmmm. Not an impressive start to the weekend, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, as the mere sight of my father's fearsome moustache is enough to strike fear into the heart of any grown man, let alone one who doesnt appreciate the oral ecstacy of Babybel.

Cut to 2 hours later and we're in his house, which, Im shocked to discover, is very tastefully, and might I add creatively, decorated. For a fella with flesh tunnels, like. No bloodstains on the walls or previous girlfriend's body parts lying about. Good, good.

Friday 28th March

A little note about snoring, people. If you do it around me you can expect to be murdered in the most horrific way possible using whatever implements come to hand. I can't cope with it, like I just can't fucking cope. So imagine my dismay, when lying there all jimjammed up, having successfully gotten past the fact that I can see through his earlobes, he delivers an earth-shattering snore RIGHT INTO MY EAR. Like he may as well have crawled into my ear and hand delivered it to my eardrum. The red mist was teetering on the edge of descent. "ACTUAL NAAAAAAAAAAAME." He narrowly escaped a grisly death by giving me some earplugs, luckily enough for everyone involved. I mean, NOONE wants to clean THAT up.The weather was pure shite so all hopes of going fishing were abandoned and in their place we went for a big spin up the coast of Clare. After a lovely lunch we headed home and made sweet love to some fajitas. All seemed to be going well, until he tried to dutch oven me. Now, Flesh Tunnels. Flesh Tunnels, Flesh Tunnels, Flesh Tunnels. Dont you know that NOBODY beats me at my own game?

The middle of the week went well for the Diet but unfortunately once I hit Limerick all hopes of watching my financial weight were shot to pieces. Well, I WAS in Limerick like.

Week Ten

Saturday 15th March

Lurked around town today and bought a record 11 pairs of new knickers. Returned home, triumphant, blocking out Eddie's outraged voice in my ear. Later that night I go out and get a little whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooozy and a nice Italian chap brings me home, with me chewing the ear off him the whole way home, and him laughin his head off the whole time. Good times.

Sunday 16th March

Feeling pretty lethargic today (read - hungover), the furthest I went was to the bathroom, and that was at a push.

Monday 17th March

Paddy's Day. Now, I really feel as if I should go out and go mental, being in Bologna and that, but honestly, I couldn't be bothered. So I have a nice day luxuriating at home and organising my suitcase for coming home.

Tuesday 18th March

Meself and Roommate decide to live large and go on a jaunt to the superdeeduper market on the other side of our house. When we are at the checkout, I pull out my wallet to pay the girl, opening it to reveal on one side, a picture of my whole family, and on the other, a picture of Mark when he was a baby. I especially appreciate it now, cos every time these bastardin Italians screw me out of more money, I open my wallet and see me little family shur and it warms the cockles of me heart. Roommate, on the other hand, opens hers up to reveal a picture of a red squirrel. Just sittin nonchalantly on a branch nibblin on a nut, head cocked at a jaunty angle. And this is no haphazard newspaper snipping either, oh no - it's a photo quality printout of the little guy. Im like "eh, actual name, why is there a photo of a squirrel in your wallet?" She thinks for a moment "emmmmmmmm, i dont really know" "Oh right" I said, "was it in there when you bought it then?" "no" she says. Riiiiiiiiiight.

Wednesday 19th March

Whoop whoop! Get up at the crack of dawn and skip merrily to bus stop, tiniest suitcase in the world in tow. Get the bus to the airport, where I meet a charming bunch of young men who keep me entertained while we wait to be shooed onto the flight like cattle. All is going well and the flight is nice and smooth, until the plane suddenly just drops. For like 5 seconds. Now 5 seconds is a long time for a plane to be dropping, people. Everyone is like "Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh" but Im just sitting there, frozen in terror, my nails most probably piercing the flesh of Classmate's arm, and The Area on my back that I can't stand people touching but serves as a warning to me of oncoming catastrophe is twitching like mad.

Somehow I get through it, and Im buzzin off me head comin into the airport, delighted to see Lurk Eile waiting for me, not only because I love her (well, she's alright like) but although I can't SEE it, I can SENSE that she has some fizzy mistress on her person. That's the real measure of love - not coming all the way up just to collect me at the airport, sure anyone can do that, but it's just that little touch that shows she was thinking about me and went to the extra bother of looking for it cos she knew it would make me incredibly happy. Sure enough, she reaches into her handbag - and lo! A bottle of orange lucozade is produced. I tenderly opened the bottle and, trembling, lifted that vessel of wondrousness to my lips, eager for the glucosey goodness to enter me. And order was restored to the world. Orangey orgasmic order. Like Pugwall's band.

We jaunt around Dublino for the day then head home on a ridiculously packed train to Waterford, vroom vroom out to see my Daddy and then hot foot it out to Sister's house to eat fajitas and get "pished". All is going well, until Sister calls me into the kitchen.
"Now Jennie don't get mad ok?" Im thinkin "oh jesus christ im only home" And she points at the chopping board. With an empty plastic bag on it. The same plastic bag that was full of chicken fillets 5 mins ago. And that the cat is now sitting on, licking his lips. If I had a fucking shovel.

Not to worry though, called the other sister to save the day with a trip to the butchers on her way, and soon enough we were back in action.

I successfully avoid tastebud armageddon by blocking the entrance of some rogue mushrooms into me dinner and Im as happy as larry waiting for my favourite dinner until I open the fridge door and notice a distinct lack of something extremely vital to the enjoyment of a fajita. Cheese.

Hazel Jacques, nay, Hazel O' Brien forgot the fuckin cheese. I know what you're thinking, cos Im thinking it too. What a fuckin tit-box. Plus she had a few glasses of wine in her so there was no talking to her either. Thankfully though for everyone's sake, her neighbour had a bag of grated cheese and the night was saved. Ate my fill and crawled up to the bed absolutely WRECKED. Most comfortable bed EVER, by the way. Siobhan came up a while later, cos Hazel wasn't finished chewin the ear off her yet haha! After our usual sleep-together exchange (Siobhan: "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz" Jennie: "Shut the FUCK up" Siobhan: silence) I fell into a deep (ankle-deep, which is deep for me) sleep until the next morning.

Thursday 20th March

Was rudely awoken by Lurk Eile telling me I had to get up. Dragged meself into the shower, where I used all of Sister's most luxurious products (thanks sis) and the two of us headed into town to meet the third lurk to complete the recombobulation. We lunched on a brasserie and then headed off on another wild adventure. To Hook Head. Now before you say that wasn't a wild adventure hear this - we took the ferry. Don't act like you're not impressed! Lurk Eile does it twice every day, so I was trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing but really I was having an inner shitfreak, only calmed by the enjoyment of watching Lurk Eile and the oul lad who collects the fares playin mind games with each other. Sexy stuff.

Made it to the other side against all odds and continued our journey to Loftis Hall. We stood outside the gates and took turns to freak the living shit out of each other by tellin the stories at the gates. Some were more scary than others, one of the least effective being pointing to the car next to ours and saying "thats the devils car now, he just called in to say well" Something tells me now the devil wouldnt have a Baby on Board sign swingin in the back window.

Onwards to the lighthouse where we did such exciting things as visit the gift shop and go for a wee before we headed home. Dropped Lurk Eile home because "my house is only 10 mins from here" (lies) and then headed back to Waterford and Lurk dropped me home.Then headed out to Other Sister's house to make a strawberry cheesecake for my internet husband. To demonstrate my wifely abilities, like. A wonderful night is had by all, and I head home to go haboo in me little leaba, toasting my buns on my electric blanket.

Friday 21st March

One would think that being in the comfort of my own little bed with my own little electric blanket would have lulled me into a restful sleep, but no. I was tossing and turning all night, up to ninety cos I was meeting Flesh Tunnels the next day. I swear to God I felt like Santy was comin!

Got up at the crack of dawn anyway, called out to Other Sister's, called up to Brother's, went to DIY shop with Dad. And it was STILL 9 o clock. Jesus was time going BACKWARDS? Daddy excused himself from the house and hot-footed it up to Brother's as 11 o clock approached.

Finally I heard (monster) car wheels crunching up the drive, and when I heard the door open, I sent the dog out to suss him out first and waited a few seconds. "Hello dog, etc" was heard, this pleased Fionn, which pleased me and I headed out to participate in what will go down in history as the Most Awkward Few Seconds Ever. Hahahahahahah! I was DYING to burst out laughin. Like, DYING. It was HILARIOUS, but obviously like I couldn't laugh, but I couldn't kiss him either cos it was so fuckin funny. Best to wait til later in the day, when I'm not about to piss meself.

So later in the day we were sittin in the jeep looking out onto the beach and having a chit chat and the like. And then I say something hilarious like I always do and we are laughing our heads off and then that bit happens when we come to he end of the laugh and we're looking at each other, stealing furtive glances at the other one's lips, hearts beating wildly as we both realise that this is The Moment. We both lean in, inch by tantalising inch, and here he suddenly goes "give us a kiss". Give us a kiss? Give us a fucking KISS? Is he for REAL? Like, can he actually be for REAL? Tell me, how does a man get to such advanced years and still think it appropriate to come out with blinders like that? Moment well and truly over. "No!" I say (in the same intonation one would use to say 'dooooooooooooope'). He's like "what?!" Im like "No fuckin way after you ASKED for it!" The he starts "Please?" Oh Jesus Christ. Kill me now.

Tra la la la a lovely day was had and as he dropped me home Daddy was in the garage and I went in to say hello. Nothing was said about the fact that I was out cavorting with a large man except "what's he driving, a fuckin lorry?" Good, good, this is good. Head inside and chill out for the night.

Ps totally went above and beyond my budget this week but I can honestly say I didnt give a rat's ass cos I was high on a combobulation of New Fella Adrenaline and Im-At-Home-It-Doesn't-Count-itis.

Week Nine

Well readers, we have arrived at week 9 and I havent died of starvation, although my lack of clothes really is becoming quite detrimental to my health.

Saturday 8th March

Today is the sister's birthday. 29. Haaaaaaaates tha'!

I have started to discover a very disturbing pattern forming in the house. There is a definite feeling of Us vs Them on the roommates front - Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore and Housemate (not to be confused with Roommate) against meself and the Pole. This can be best witnessed in what I can only refer to as The Rubbish War. Let me lay it out for you:

We have a tiny bin in the kitchen and every night we empty it and put the plastic bag out on the balcony for someone to take it out to the big communal bins on the kerb on their way out the following morning. This person is usually Housemate as she leaves for work around 7.30 am, so it is always gone by the time anyone else leaves. Recently, however, I have noticed that Housemate hasnt taken it out fo the last 4 days, and that there are 5 small bags out on the balcony awaiting putting out. This is of great interest to me as I have also noticed that there has been a bit of tension in the house, and I think that this is a test of myself and Roommate's housematedness.

If there's one thing Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore loves it's giving out to someone over some anal thing in the house, like the amount of hand soap in the bathroom, or where we hang our hand towels. With this in mind, I wake up extra super duper early and with the stealth of a ninja I creep out onto the balcony, grab the 5 bags, and hot foot it to the bin on the kerb, still clad in my jimjams, to the delight of a passing pervert. Run back into the house and do a quick general sweep and scrub. Still have to buy hand soap but the shops arent open til 9. Me nerves are at me cos I can hear L/BFW waking up and I dont want to give her the chance to give out to me about the hand soap. Roommate gets up and sits in the kitchen, L/BFW joins her. I lurk in the bedrom until 5 mins to 9 and then make a run for the front door, sayin im just going to check the post and leg it to Lidl and stock up on hand soap and loo roll. Return to the house triumphant and make a jolly fine show of putting them in the hall press, whilst enjoying the feeling of watching L/BFW's face drop as I steal the satisfaction of giving out to someone away from her. Fnar fnar.

Later on she puts something in the bin and then twitches the balcony door curtain to one side, about to tell someone to put out the rubbish, only to discover the balcony is cleared of all bags. Roommate and I exchange a knowing look, as she turns around and is like "oh, the rubbish is gone" "oh that?" I say nonchalantly "yeah took that out a while ago there". Silent handshake of victory is exchanged under the table.

Sunday 9th March

Every week there is a certain cleaning rota for the house. The bathroom rota is as follows:
Monday - Roommate
Wednesday - L/BFW
Friday - Housemate
Sunday - Yours Truly

This includes washing all floors in the apartment, except the kitchen.The kitchen is scrubbed every Sunday by one of us, and this week it is my turn. Needless to say, if your day to clean passes and you forgot to do it or were too busy, then you will be approached about it and made to feel like a bad person. Not this week. Not on my watch! I silently rise at dawn and scrub the kitchen from floor to ceiling and get back into bed, filled with a warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction. Later on, Housemate gets up and says "whose turn is it to clean the kitchen?" and Im like " Oh I did it already this morning". Orgasm.

Monday 10th March

The Rubbish War rages on. Jennikybooky and Roommate are still in the lead.

Tuesday 11th March

Book my flights for coming home for Easter today! Whoop whoop! Wasn't too pushed to come home at first cos Im nice and settled over here now but the closer it gets the more Im looking forward to it. Gonna stuff some serious fajitas into me faaaaaaaace, boi.

Wednesday 12th March

Up until now, Roommate and I have been united in the face of a common enemy, but now there is internal friction which threatens to discombobulate our united front and destroy our lead on the Rubbish War. What is this friction, I hear you ask? Ill tell you what it is. It's the friction of her leg hitting my bed EVERY SINGLE TIME she walks past it. Like EVERY SINGLE TIME. Without fail. It has been going on for a while, so I've been trying some different tactics, like moving my desk a few feet in the other direction to stop her walking into the bed. Nope. Moving the lamp to better light her way out the door. Nope. Trying to push my (immovable) bed at an angle. Nope. All useless. I was left with no choice but to eat the fuckin head off her as she did it for the squillionth time one night. I mean, its past midnight. Why the fuck is it necessary to walk in and out of he room eleventy million times? Help me Jesus.

Thursday 13th March

Almost at the end of the week and Im well within my budget, I think the Rubbish War must be distracting me from spending money on such trivialties as food, for example.

Friday 14th March

Hurrah! Another successful week! But not just because Im within my budget, oh no! But because I think I can safely say that Victory is ours with regards the Rubbish War. This morning I successfully orchestrated a complete reversal of power. As Landlady/Bitch-Face Whore was leaving, I said after her, "oh, (actual name), you wouldn't mind putting out the rubbish on your way out, would you?" Yessssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Week Eight

Was the difficult struggle of last week a bad omen of budgetary catastrophes to come? Or will our heroine triumph against the odds and stay within her fifty euro limit in a country where a litre of milk is €1.72? Read on to find out.

Saturday 1st March

I wake up, it's Saturday. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Why? Because Saturday is my one day where I am not allowed to feel guilty for not studying. Which makes a change from the other six days of the week where I do sweet FA and am racked with guilt about it. And yet somehow not feeling guilty enough to actually do something about it. I luxuriate around the house all day, doing those menial tasks that I enjoy so much, windows and balcony doors open, the smell of gorgeous fabric conditioner wafting through the apartment and the sun splitting the rocks outside. Bliss.

Sunday 2nd March

Wake up and it is SWELTERING in the house. Throw open all doors and windows and have a speed shower and head out to the villa to lounge around in the grass all day. It's 26 degrees outside and all is well with the world. I take 2 buses to get to the other side of the city where the villa is. I FINALLY get there, after enduring some old guy rubbing his crotch against my ass the ENTIRE way on the bus, and ring the buzzer on the huge gates. Nobody answers. I have no credit on my phone and no change to use a phone box. What to do, what to do? I walk around the side of the villa to assess fence-scaling possibilities. Clearly it is an impossible task but I say to myself "yeah - TOTALLY doable". And just to ensure that I dont give up under any circumstances, I throw my handbag over the fence. About a year later it hits the ground on the other side. Interesting. I then start scaling up this metal pole like a monkey up a coconut tree (naturally the monkey I speak of has only one leg, gets whoozy in heights and is most probably epileptic), and grab onto the wire of the fence, which then droops all the way back onto the ground, with me clinging onto it like a newborn infant to a teat. This is in full view of passing cars on the main road which take the opportunity to beep enthusiastically, thus urging me forth. I take a second go at it and succeed this time, but not without my top getting caught in the wire and going halfway up my back, giving all main road users a tantalising peek at my curvaceous bod and sweet lady lumps. Fuck it sure - it's good to give back to the community. Jump down on the other side and victoriously walk up the ten mile drive, feeling a definite breeze on my belly. I look down, and lo - there is a hole in the front of my top. Great. Lay out on the grass with my Ashanti sistren doing my Pick Me Up codecracker (thanks Mark) and getting a tropical tan through my factor 25. By the end of the day I have reached epic levels of blackness - think a young Wesley Snipes. Head home after a gorgeous day and after my Flesh Tunnels fix, I go haboo without a care in the world.

Monday 3rd March

Another guilt-ridden week begins. I decide something has to be done about it and actually take out my Dante and make an impressive dent in it. Go me! Head into class, and for the entire two hours I think about all the lovely things Im going to do when I go home for Easter.

Head home for my fix of The L Word. Best. Episode. Ever. Even better than the Turkish oil wrestling one. And thats saying something. Send off some special cards to some special people and head to bed.

Tuesday 4th March

My, my, what an interesting day. While waiting for Bajan Empress this guy comes up to me looking to sell me tissues. Same shit, different day. Today however, I'm in no humour and I'm like, "Look, I have no money so good day to you sir" (paraphrasing) and he's all like "That doesnt mean you cant give me a euro". My hand tightens protectively around my last 2 euro coin in my pocket that I am saving to ring Flesh Tunnels on my way home this evening. "Actually, thats EXACTLY what it means". Blah blah blah some other banter and here your man sticks out his hand "Give me a euro". The fucking cheek. So then I stuck out my hand, "Give ME a euro". And then he says again "Just give me a euro." And then I say "Just give ME a euro", all crazy-like and he wishes me a nice day and walks off. Victory!

Later in class, Im sitting behind this guy that I have heard speaking English but have never met him. Halfway through the class he turns right around and STARES into my comprehensive notes (one random sentence at the top of a page) and is bending his head to read them. I lean forward "Dya want to sit in me lap?" He's all shocked and turns around. 2 seconds later he turns around and goes "Do you want to sit in MY lap" Im like "No, you're alright cheers" and then he turns around and says REALLY sarcastically "Nice to meet you" and gives me the back of his shaking head. Lovely. Empress and I burst out laughing and for the rest of the class sit there in disbelief. What just happened? At the end of the class he gets up to leave and I'm like "Cmere you young fella, I was only winding you up there's no need to be like that" He looks at me for a second and then it's like a switch goes off in his head and he holds out his hand to me "Im Rael it's nice to meet you" and proceeds to be the most charming and talkative man I have met since I got here. I'll take that.

I walk home, the 2 euro dancing in my pocket the entire way. The closer I got to the phonebox at the end of my street, the worse the butterflies got. By the time I reached the phonebox, I was practically foaming at the mouth. I stepped inside, my heart up in my mouth and lifted the receiver with a shaky hand. I dialled the number with trembling fingers and pushed the 2 euro coin through the slot. My heart rate rose with anticipation. I waited to hear the ring, but instead I heard the 2 euro ping into the change slot. I tried again, and again. And then 42 more agains. This cant be happening. The piece of shit phone wouldn't take my 2 euro. That I saved ALL DAY. Just for this phone call. Flashback to my stomach rumbling as I walked past a pizza place on the way home. I could have had a fucking pizza. The devastation was almost too much to bear. At that very minute all the adrenaline that had been building up inside me just disappeared and I walked home, wobbly and heartbroken.

Wednesday 5th March

I wake up and some strange notion seems to have come over me because I spend the day studying up a STORM. I got LOADS of really intense Dante done and my mind is a well of theological information. Amazing. This may or may not have something to do with the 6 apricot jam-filled croissants I may or may not have eaten in a gluttonous rampage.

Thursday 6th March

After a comparatively successful week I crumble. I just HAVE to have a cake for my dinner. I raid my bill money and head to Lidl, Roommate in tow. The closer we get to Lidl the more riled up I get. She droppped her purse on the way and stooped to pick it up and I was like "Im going ahead without you". She caught up with me and she said "We musn't talk to her when she wants her cake" hahahha. Got THE LAST ONE and headed home, triumphant. Ate half of it for my dinner and paused to enjoy it's digestion before the self-loathing kicked in.

Friday 7th March

A really good day today on the classes and general organisation front. I head into town and myself and the girls traipse around in search of elusive textbooks and getting important stuff photocopied. Sadly, though, I had to take out the nexts weeks 50 snots to pay for everything, which left a serious dent in next weeks money. Grrrrrr! Still, though it was worth it and I felt really good having got all the reading I needed for the exams. I head home and enjoy the other half of the cake in the comfort of my own bed. I hide the cake tray under the bed in case Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore came in. Later on, I sneak into the kitchen and wash the knife and throw away the cake tray under cover of darkness. I catch myself and am ashamed. I berate myself for letting my chinois habit get this out of hand. I go to bed, simultaneously telling myself I wont do it again, and wondering will I have enough money for another one next week.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Week Seven

Struggled a bit this week, mostly due to suffering from some form of reverse anorexia and needing to eat every 2.7 nanoseconds, but otherwise,I did Eddie proud!

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!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Week Six

Saturday 16th February

Took out a fresh fifty from the bank machine and did the shopping. Only spent fifteen snots, I'm getting good at this! The spirit of Eddie is thriving deep inside me. At least I hope that's his spirit. Chilled out during the day, watched The Heartbreak Kid. Saturday night went to Fran's house for dinner and drinks. And drinks and drinks and drinks and drinks. Brought the bottle of snazzy Prosecco I got in for The Man's birthday. Needless to say it was bittersweet. Got to' up from the flo' up drunk, crawled home on my hands and knees. Good times!

Sunday 17th February

Woke up a with "a head like a bursted shoe" as my good friend from down Wexico way would say. My condition quickly improved though and I went into town to meet my Bajan empress. We headed into town and went into this gorgeous cafe that I have grown quite fond of, where I inhaled a piadina and a hot chocolate. With cream, I hear you asking? But of course, chums!

Chilled out in there for a while, but unfortunately the reggae sedated me into such a condition that it was impossible to deny the fact that I was, in fact, completely fucked. Walked home at the speed of an arthritic snail. Snuggled up and watched Juno. Which, by the way, is unbelievable.

Monday 18th February

Woke up to discover that I was actually suffering from a two-day hangover. Excellent. Spent all day (and much of the night) at home wasting my life on t'internet talking to everyone I know. Some more than others. You know who you are. (That's you, Flesh Tunnels) Watched Annie Hall in bed. Gave out to myself for wasting yet another day pickin up future husbands via t'internet. MUST cut down on that.

Tuesday 19th February

I start the day as I mean to go on, by watching The L Word. This week's episode involved Turkish Oil Wrestling. I was MADE UP. Mid-sitting there with a big delighted head on me watchin them ripping each other around a ring covered in oil, the doorbell rang. Looked out the peephole. It was a priest. My heart jumped up into my mouth - how did Jesus find out I was watchin The L Word? But in reality he just came to bless the house, but as none of us had a gant between us, we had to go without. So let's just say if a handsome stranger comes by the house for a game of poker, I'll ring the roofers in advance.

Wanted to watch High Fidelity because I had a craving for John Cusack (John you are everything a man should be) but couldn't find it to stream so I settled for 1408.Yes I know, imagine ME watching a scary film all on my own, considering that the last scary film I watched was Silent Hill, which resulted in me being STUCK to Mark in the bed every night for a week. I would have slept INSIDE him if I could have. The terror. Every time I had to pee I had to wake him up to bring me in case the burning babies were waiting at the end of the stairs for me. It's a possibility like. You never know with them burning babies.

Wednesday 20th February

A most productive day today. Myself and my sistren Empress head in and meet our professors for a spot of arse-licking, then head and track down some IMPOSSIBLE to find books in some totally obscure library. Result.

Also a good day for reinforcing my sense of being useful to society as the person in the tourist centre tried to show Tamara where something was on a map, and she grabbed me to take the offending map away from her and guide her to safety. Not that I blame her. It's a commonly known fact that I have the Very Mild Superpower of Superhuman Map Reading Abilities. This being a new discovery since I came to Italy. Even The Man, who is allergic to being nice to other people, one said, nay, one PROCLAIMED, "Jesus, you are a fucking COMPASS". Lets take a moment to imagine a 30 year old man saying that to a small blonde woman. Aaaaaaw yizzle I'm the shizzle. I'm just contemplating what my superhero catchphrase would be. I'm thinking : "Ok turn left at the end of this lane lads and it should be on our right" Or somesuch phrase I say on a daily basis to my followers.

Even though I have an exam tomorrow, I don't do a TAP of study and I have no excuse whatsoever. I am the WORST student in the history of the world. And yet I feel like it'll be grand. Watch The Bucket List in bed and ball my head off. Roommate laughs at my emotional turmoil and calls me a weirdo. Well, excuse me if I feel the pain of others. I mean geez.

Thursday 21st February

Exam first thing. Complete disaster. First of all, I didn't study. But that has NOTHING to do with why it was a disaster. It has EVERYTHING to do with the fact that Hugues was giving it. I went into his office (I have dreamed of this moment for so long) and he looks up from his desk and goes "Bonjour Jenny-fare" in his Belgian accent. At that moment I knew it was all over for me. How was I supposed to sit there opposite him and talk crap about literature when he was WEARING THAT ORANGE JUMPER. Stop it. I couldn't cope. I was like a vegetable in the chair. Paralysed by erotic thoughts. He was sitting there going blah blah blah african literature and I was sitting there with a thought bubble coming out of my head "Look at his lips. I wonder is he hairy. Would he be a good husband? I want to bite him"

Anyway I somehow managed to get through it and in the end I did grand. But only because in the end I decided it wouldn't work out cos he is FAR too skinny and, let's face it, I'm a chubby chaser. I felt sorry for poor Classmate though who has to do it again. Some pain in the hole. But you see, she made the classic mistake of actually admitting she didnt know anything, whereas I bluffed and winged it and pulled it off with style and panache. A tried and tested technique.

Friday 22nd February

Woke up early with the feeling that something good was coming my way. What could it be? Went down to collect the post, and was wondering why the inhabitants of my apartment block had formed a guard of honour from my front door to my postbox, until I opened the door of the postbox to the sound of fanfare. And there it was...could it be? Yes! Yes it was! A Valentine's Card! For me? For me! HURRAH! All is not lost! Someone in the world was having thoughts about me on Valentine's Day! I double check to make sure it wasn't from my mother, or any other blood relative, for that matter. Nope, it's real. It's from an actual man. With an actual willy. It actually counts. Yesssssssssssssss! Do a quick victory lap around the building and head back up to my apartment to the cheers of my neighbours. Display said card proudly on my desk and welcome my housemates with "Ciao! Oh what's this? Oh nothing, it's just a Valentine's card." Hee hee! I've still got it!

All in all a good week, but mostly because of the Valentine's card. That's what I get for being a STONE FOX, I guess. And that's not all folks, oh no! I still have SEVEN euro left! God will my wondrousness never cease!

Week Five

Success! Finally got back on track. I was adrift on a lonely and desolate sea there for a time but I looked to Eddie as my lighthouse to guide me back to safety and prevent me from washing up on the shores of bankruptcy. Eddie, youre my rock! You're my rock, man!

Saturday 9th February

Had planned to bring Roommate up to San Luca, this hilltop church in Bologna which is reached via the longest (and most torturously uphill) portico in the world, but she says she's "too tired". Too tired? TOO TIRED? After I trudged all the way out to Casalecchio to find a friggin office that didnt exist with her the day before? But I can understand how she is so tired. All that sleeping and mooching around the house never doing anything can really take it out of you. I tell ya, it's a doozie.

Luckily, my Bajan empress came back the day before so I called her up, made a gorgeous big salami baguette and packed a "pickernic" and away we went. It was fabulous. The views were amazing and it was so chilled out. Much needed break from the city.

Sunday 10th February

Much to my surprise, I did not, as I had expected, wake up as an amazon as a result of the strenuous workout of the day before. The day was spent mourning the sad loss of this dream.

Monday 11th February

Sit myself down and have a serious word with myself about how I need to take control of my finances. Then I watch The L Word on t'internet all day. And yet ANOTHER innocent pair of knickers meets a creamy grave.

Tuesday 12th February

More L Word. It goes deep, man.

Wednesday 13th February

Have the fight to end all fights with The Man. Its not even a fight, more of just a complete loss of any shred of respect that I ever had for him. Delete his number from my phone. Decide it's better for my mental health not to bother with such people any more. Head to class, yada yada. Then head to the cinema with Fran and Kenna and watch Scusa, Ma Ti Chiamo Amore. TOTAL cheesefest, much to my delight! Head home happy as Larry, visions of cheesy Italian love scenes dancing like sugarplums in my head. Fnar fnar.

Thursday 14th February

Wake up totally hopeful that someone may have sent me a card. Do some preparatory stretching to go downstairs and check the postbox for the extremely large card that some Large and Wonderful Man is bound to have sent me. Was there a card I hear you asking? Nope. Although, my mother did send me the local paper though. So it wasn't a wasted trip.

Go upstairs and download a few films, secretely hoping for a delivery of flowers. Nada. Then head into town for my favourite class of the week with Hugues. He is so hot I cant even control myself. Im just sittin there thinking about the weight capacity of his desk.

Anyway he says my name in that Belgian way of his and my pupils turn into love hearts. I make a mental note to stay off the acid. Lurk around the shops a bit then head home to do some "study". For my degree in Bebo studies, like.

Put my key in the door, secretly hoping for there to be a huge flower arrangement on the hall table. Nothing again. Then check the kitchen just to make sure he's not going to jump out of a giant cake or anything. No such luck. My mind wandered back to the Barbra Kruger inspired valentine card I made and sent last week. A small ant played the world's smallest violin. Took care of a bit of business, had a nice dinner and chilled out for the night. Headed to bed lovely and relaxed. Midnight or so I get my Valentines call. Sadly it didnt cut the mustard.

Friday 15th February

Head into town to meet my bitches and we have a nice coffee and then head to class. Then head back to theirs and the Empress cooks up a big gorgeous pan of sausage, beans, and spicy tomato stuff and we dunk big chunks of freshly baked bread in it. Soul food if I ever needed it. Then I wasnt feeling great so Tamara gave me some Bajan panadol. Which I was unaware had some "special" ingredients shall we say. Cut to a half hour later and Im finding it hard to sit up straight and can't focus my eyes.We are listening to Tamara's partner's radio show in Barbados via the interweb and she calls him and he "bigs us up". Completely inebriated by the pills I go apeshit and start bodypopping. Or what I thought was bodypopping. I can only imagine that it was a visual nightmare. Anyway head home slumped over on the bus. Trying with all my might not to fall asleep or fall sideways off the chair. Get home and crawl in the door on my hands and knees, face down onto the bed and wake up in the same position the next morning, both legs in one leg hole of my boxers. Nice.

All in all a week of ups and down on the personal life front (mostly plummeting downs) but its definitely a positive week for the finances as I have 62c left! Woo hoo! My spirits are restored and I vow never to let Eddie down again! Until next week, like.

Week Four

Oh God. This week was a complete disaster! I hang my head in shame. Instead of sticking to my fifty snots as I pledged to Eddie in a sincere oath I was temporarily possessed by some kind of spendthrift demon and I ploughed my way through almost 110! Oh Eddie, I never meant to make you cry!

Saturday 2nd February

Went down the pub to watch the match with The Man. Splashed out on a cheeseburger for my lunch. Oh my god the second that juicy meat embarked on a journey down my oesophagus I felt truly alive. I'm not joking you it was like heroin! So anyway we were watching the match and I was pretending that I didn't want to murder him and cut him into little pieces and give him out as sweets on Hallowen over the birthday cake incident, which was giving me indigestion. I mean he's my bud and all that so I know that he's completely wrapped up in himself and I accept that but sometimes he makes me so mad I want to take off my shoe and beat him about the face with it.

Anyway I got pissed on two glasses of wine and then headed home to change because we were going out to this cuban place but when I got home I decided against it because it was Fran and Adonis, Classmate and Lorenzo and The Man and The Ex going and my gooseberry outfit was in the wash so I couldnt go. So myself and Roommate stayed in and chilled out and watched the Mighty Boosh and laughed our heads off.

Sunday 3rd February

I was in my room studying up a storm when this loud crappy Italian music started pumping from the courtyard. I was stressed out enough as it was so I stormed over to the window and wrenched it open and stuck my angry little head out to give whoever it was the what-for and I looked down into the courtyard and there was a couple slowdancing in the middle of the courtyard. The woman had her head on his chest and he was here swigging wine. The second I stuck my head out and looked down, he looked up and caught my eye. Sure how could I still be mad? It was HILARIOUS! So I just gave him the thumbs-up and closed the window.Never one to keep life's pleasures to myself, I booted it into the kitchen at high speed and myself and Roommate were here peering out the net curtains of the balcony door and here were the other two muggin the heads off each other in the courtyard where all the apartments face out onto. We were here laughin away at the shit music (think cheesy sax solos) and the next minute yer man just says something to your wan and the two of them look straight up at the balcony door at the two of us pervin the bit-out! Hahahahahaha! Oh jesus Im mortified just thinkin about it!

Monday 4th February

Couldn't sleep at all last night. Woke up at 3 then had to lie there for hours going out of my mind. Around 7ish I finally fell asleep only to be rudely awoken by Roommate's alarm clock at 7.45 am.

Let me just explain something people. Roommate has never once in 24 years risen out of the scratcher before the crack of noon. But for some reason she sets her alarm to go off at 7.45 am every morning. She turns it off after it takes about a half an hour of continuous ringing and my shoe in the head to wake her out of her powerful Polish coma. Then she allows it to go off every 9 mins. And she STILL doesnt get up til around 1. Now usually this doesnt bother me because I am usually up and pottering about by then and then I head to the gym til 1 so I dont have to listen to it. But the one morning I want to have a sneaky lie-in. PLUS I was "hormonal" shall we say.

Well now if I didnt launch myself out of the bed after the third time the snooze went off and RIP the phone out of her unsuspecting hand and unleash the blonde fury on her. I dont know how she emerged uninjured. I was LIVID. Keep in mind that she used to have a little pink plastic alarm clock when we first moved in that I actually had to confiscate it from her.

Hello like Roommate? Its not as if I dont let her have her way about every other aspect of living together - she sleeps with the window WIDE open so you can actually SEE your breath so Im in the bed fully suited up top to toe in men's jimjam ends and large and wonderful man's hoodie which I could enter and never be seen alive again. She wears the LOUDEST flip-flops ever experienced by human ears (at LEAST 38756546378398 SQUILLION decibels) and pads in and out of the room continuously while Im trying to sleep but I just bought ear plugs (which, by the way only ACCENTUATE the noise) That fuckin alarm is the last straw. I swear to god if I ever hear it again it's curtains for you Bajszczak! Ah but I couldnt live without her and all her annoying habits. I loves her so I does!

Tuesday 5th January

Go on a HUGE grocery BINGE today! I just think "Fuck it" and head into the market and actually buy everything I see, including a MASSIVE(ly delicious) salami. Oh my god it is the most wondrous thing I have ever put in my mouth. Ahem.

Wednesday 6th January

Got back from the gym to a note from Roommate saying "the phone is working". Cue HOURS spent on t'internet catching up on my L Word. So needless to say was in a great mood for the night.

Thursday 7th January

Cant find any more L Word episodes so am heartbroken. So I go to the market and buy a SHITLOAD of crap and go home and stuff it into my mouth and wonder why I exiled myself in this stupid city. But then Roommate comes home and we watch series 3 of the Mighty Boosh and all is right with the world again.

Friday 8th January

Myself and Roommate head off today on a journey through time and space which we entitled "tit-boxes on tour" to find this office in Casalecchio which, as it turns out, didnt exist. Spend all day looking for it and decide to abandon ship around 5 and were halfway to the elusive bus stop when she gets a call from some woman telling her how to get there. Please now. I mean please now people. If she wanted Roommate there she could have rang her at 3.30 and wondered where she was. I was here do what you want girl I'm outta here and Roommate is like well I'm headin over. So I embark on the neverending bus ride home and start makin my dinner. Roommate walks in the door a half hour later. There was no office.

While eating my dinner I took few moments to reflect on the sham that my week was and my complete failure to adhere to my budgeting vows. I am very disappointed in myself. But even worse, Eddie is very disappointed in me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go flagellate myself.

Week Three

Well well well looks like Ive made it to Week Three and beyond! Things are looking up for young Jennikybooky. Or are they? Read on........

Saturday 26th January

Woke up with supremo hangover in Fran's house but then had a lovely walk home in the sunshine which put me in a great humour. The stress relief from having got the exam over and done with was orgasmic and I was completely exhausted from studyin like a mofo all week so I washed me sleepy head when I got home and then curled up in my little cream leaba. Bliss!

Sunday 27th January

Jesus Christ if I EVER see another spud again I will friggin implode! What was I THINKING buying that 10kg bag? Roast spuds, boiled spuds, mashed spuds, spuds in a salad, baked spuds, potato rosti, potato scallops, twice baked potato, spuds in my nightmares, spuds following me down dark alleys. Never again.

The sun was splitting the rocks today so myself and Roommate strolled into town and around this gorgeous park where there were squillions of old people having picnics. It put me in a great mood and made me glad to be living here. Italians really know how to enjoy life. I noticed none of them were eating spuds.

Monday 28th January

Ok happy time is officially over. Have an exam on Friday and have forgotten every word of French I ever knew. Couple that with my complete lack of knowledge of Belgian and African literature and the future looks bleak. Stress levels are mounting. Get up at the crack of dawn and head to gym like a rabid animal. Then go home and speed read a Belgian detective novel. Compelling stuff.

Tuesday 29th January

Friday is drawing ever nearer but this doesnt seem to inhibit my ability to procrastinate.

Wednesday and Thursday fly by in much the same manner.

Friday 1st February

Get up and head into exam only to be told that I have to take mine on the 21st of Feb. Fine by me, I says.Yesterday was The Man's birthday. He is pretending to be 29 but really he's 47 and everyone knows it. It's embarrassing really. So today we were going to go for lunch. Wait around town til lunch time then call him only to discover that he is still in bed and won't be joining us for lunch. How thoughtful, seeming as it was in honour of him. So myself and Classmate head for a gorgeous Greek lunch on which I spend me last tenner.

Head home lovely and relaxed and in my good humour I go against everything that Eddie has taught me and take a score out of the bank machine and go shopping for a few bits to make The Man a birthday cake. But not only that, my friends, oh no. I say to myself "Hey, it's a special occasion" and splash out on a bottle of prosecco. And none of the cheap stuff I buy myself either, oh no. The good shit. So go home and bake a deliciously moist and wonderful chocolate torta for me oul man and what happens? He doesn't feel like coming over. He's going to stay at home and read. Read what, I hear you asking? The Bible. The fucking Bible. Im like are you actually going to make me eat your birthday cake on my own? Apparently so. He says "lets eat it tomorow" Tomorrow? TOMORROW? One word for you Man "nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnah!" So I sat down with Roommate and we defiantly put a fine dent in that cake. He ain't never gonna see a CRUMB of this cake!

I dont get it. Like I really dont get it. If someone went to the time and effort to make me a cake, or make me anything for that matter, I would be so touched it would bring a tear to my eye. Needless to say I was really hurt and upset. But then myself and Roommate watched The Mighty Boosh until I got a cramp in my cheek from laughin and I had to turn it off. Good times!

So that's about the size of my week. Not very exciting or eventful. Sorry will try harder next week.

High Point: The lovely weather.

Low point: The Twix still eludes me.

But I dont like to end on a low note. Here's a song:

Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around
Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears
Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by
Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes
Turnaround bright eyes,
Every now and then I fall apart
Turnaround bright eyes,
Every now and then I fall apart
And I need you now tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if you'll only hold me tight
We'll be holding on forever

Until next week chums!

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Week Two

Well miraculously made it past the first week alive. The novelty has well and truly worn off so here's to an even tougher week.....

Saturday 19th January

Got up at the crack of dawn and went to the bank machine to withdraw fifty glorious euro. Twenty minutes and the groceries later and I'm down to thirty. D'oh! Bought a ten kilo sack of spuds and walked home with them over my shoulder. Cue a pre-famine themed week of meals.

Sunday 20th January

Got up early, went in and luxuriated in the shower. Was just massaging body lotion into my luscious milky white bod and Roommate comes strutting into the bathroom. I was like "Eh, well" and she just stood there frozen to the spot. In awe and wonderment, obviously. I said I'd be done in a minute and then when I was finished I walked past the kitchen and she shouted out after me "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy!" Hahahahahaha! She is learning, oh yes.

Monday 21st January

Well it turns out that having the internet in my apartment really was just a crazy wet dream. In the middle of registering for exams t'internet cut out and so did the phone line. As I write this we are still waiting for someone to come and fix it. Cue me having to return to Sala Borsa to use the free tintyweb amongst the underbelly of Bolognese society.

Tuesday 22nd January

Got up at the crack of dawn as usual to study for my exam and was happily sittin down at my desk workin away at 8.04 am when hammering and drilling started up in the apt over us which continued on until 5 pm. By the end of the day, I wanted to hit someone in the face with a shovel. Then I went to the bathroom and when I came out Roommate was in the kitchen "Ciao" she says "I've just taken your last two eggs. I thought you were in the gym." Now people. Consider for a moment my non-meat diet and how much those protein laden eggs were worth to me. Also consider that she has had a fucking Twix in the fridge for the last two weeks that taunts me every time I open the fridge door. Jesus, she's lucky I love her.

Wednesday 23rd January

Wake up from a nap to Roommate screaming for me. Run out into the hall in my knickers to save her, thinking she was being murdered by some kind of large-hoofed mammal only to find it was much worse. It was a cockroach. A COCKROACH! In the cleanest house in Bologna - nay, the world. Roommate was freaking out. Up on my back she nearly got. "It's ok girl" I said "Give me your shoe" "No" she says. No. And I standing there in me scunders. "You better get that shoe off your foot this second" So I killed it. But now Im scared that I angered his kinsmen and that they are assembling a small but powerful army to seek vengeance.

Thursday 24th January

Did a French exam. The less said about it the better. Then went to dinner party in the night, drank copiously and went out to club where he who from now on shall be known as "The Man" got so pissed that he latched onto three young impressionable boys and then left me and Fran to dance with them while he danced "The Man" on his own. Then, clearly delusional from grappa he told the boys that "She's mine", swiftly followed by "I toy with her". Now, if ever I doled out a Laser Death Stare, that was it. "I toy with her" ? I TOY WITH HER?! Just when did any of this fictional toying take place, I am wondering? Then stayed in Fran's house as The Man was too pissed to be a deterrent to small dogs, never mind murderers to take me home. I ought to punch him in the kidney.

Friday 25th January

Hurrah! Ive made it to Friday alive! But thats not all folks, oh no! I have a fiver left! Yesssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Delighted, am I? Eddie would be so proud of me now.

High Point this week: No longer crave fizzy drinks and sugary things. Except that Twix. It WILL be mine!

Low Point: Can't afford bus ticket so have to make the 45 minute trek into town and then back on foot, and the battery (now a "luxury item") went in my mp3 player and I can't function as a human being without music so every morning I cunningly steal the battery out of the DVD remote control and use it in my mp3 player and then I sneak it back in before Oriana comes back from work. I know. Im a bad person.