Thursday, October 30, 2008

Week Eighteen

Saturday May 10th

Ok now Jenniky, we must remain sensible. Overwhelming feelings of love and adoration for Husband DO NOT mean that one has to give up entirely on one’s lifelong dream of marrying The Rock.

Party in Fran’s house tonight. Myself and Husband head down to the supermarket to get some stuff to try out this lovely recipe for finger food for Fran’s house. Look at us, sharing a keen interest in cooking. No, Jenniky, NO! We mustn’t get caught up in the burning passion we feel for Husband, even if he is a total RIDE. I’m not joking. He is a fucking wet dream. Oh GOD! Must put a stop to this. I’m very busy at the moment, too busy for this kind of carry on.

Make the skewers, head to party where said skewers go down a treat. Accidentally on purpose drink WAY too much prosecco, too much to even notice that another girl is taking a special interest in Husband. Head out into town, on the way Husband starts up approximately 47 fights with me. Now, when I say “fights” I mean him giving out to me for some imagined scenario that he has made up in his curly head and me going “yes, dear, yes, yes, ok” until he finally gets over it (4 nanoseconds later) and starts apologizing profusely before starting off another one.

Get to bar, I’m talking to Fran and he is standing in bar (with aforementioned girl) calling me over. I go over and Girl is holding his hand. Riiiiiiight, I’ll be off then. But it turns out someone burned his hand and she is “helpfully” holding an ice cube on it. Yes, very helpful, seeming as his other hand must have been blown off in the fracas, and there is no way he could possibly hold it himself. Consider the possibility of being jealous for a moment, and then decide there is no point, as I actually quite like her. And who could blame her, when he is such a pure ride.

Rest of night a blur, can’t remember getting home. Remember snippets of Husband and I laughing our heads off, then looking deeply and meaningfully into each other’s eyes. Urgh, I could puke.

Sunday May 11th

Oh good Jesus Christ why have you abandoned me? I’m IN BITS. A dead body in the bed. Get up and run to loo and revisit the contents of my stomach. Crawl back to bed and start shout for Husband (I don’t take puking very well) and he is so comatose he cant hear me from like 2 feet away. Feel a burning hatred for him for about 3 seconds, before curling up and falling straight back asleep. A lost day.

Monday May 12th

Get up, fully recovered and Husband heads out adventuring for the day as I stay in, glued to my desk, studying up a storm. He comes home in the evening and we have a pizza and watch a picture all snuggled up. Just like any other happy couple….oh wait. WE ARE NOT A FRIGGIN COUPLE AND YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED JENNIKY GET A FUCKING GRIP.

Tuesday May 13th

Wake up, filled with dread, Husband is going home tomorrow and I don’t want him to go. Bottle up the feelings Jenniky, we must be strong. We mustn’t appear too eager. But I fail myself when I suddenly let out in a giant whinge “I don’t want you to goooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Well I think we can safely say the game’s up. I love him and I want to eat him for my dinner and be the hokey, there is no denying it. Just give in to the feelings. No more swanning around batting off admirers just because I simply couldn’t be bothered. Now I have a genuine excuse. Cancel his flights and rebook some new ones for Friday.

Wednesday May 14th

Lovefest. To the power of infinity. Impending cystitis.

Thursday May 15th

Stuff his suitcase, with a heavy heart. But not really, cos I’m stuffing his suitcase with all my stuff that I don’t want to drag home for myself. Have a jaunt around town, me battling opposing emotions (I want to marry him and have his babies vs. I want to be FREEEEEEEEEEE)
Marrying him and having his babies wins out in the end, though. Obviously. (Did I mention he is a RIDE? Ridey ridey ride ride. Good Lord the man is gorgeous.)

Friday 16th May

Wake up at 6am and TEAR myself out of bed, where, just to spite myself, I woke up at 5.30 and rolled over into the most snuggliest, loveliest and most comfortable position I have ever been in in my long-legged life. Oh the torture! Drag my feet to the bus stop with Husband head off to the bus station so he can catch his bus to the airport. Sniff! The minute it comes I'm just like "see ya now" and peg it off in the opposite direction. Goodbyes - I don't be able! I'm only small shur.

Walk home in the lovely morning sunshine and when I get home and walk into my room there is a lovely smell of Husband there. Pang of heart agony as I realise I have to get through these next few weeks with noone to do the washing up after me. Sigh.

That night, I am sitting at my desk studying away with the lamp on and the window open. Roommate kills me for doing this, as she says moths will fly in the window, and every time she has said this to me before Ive been like "whatever; home girl needs to breeeeeeeeeze", and then continued on with the window open. I mean it is so HOT, you would suffocate in here like. But on this fateful night, I learned my lesson, and by jove I learned it well.

Having retired to my bed, I was chatting away to Husband on the phone when I noticed a kind of scrabbling noise coming from the vicinity of the lamp, accompanied by huge shadows dancing across the wall. My blood ran cold - it could only be...a moth! Or a "night butterfly" as Roommate calls them. I try to remain calm and continue the conversation, telling myself I can deal with the gulp..moth afterwards, but it then emerges from the lamp and reveals itself to me as a hairy winged terror from the black lagoon. The minute I saw it my skin crawled to the other side of the room and I swiftly hung up and fled. Upon my swift exit, I met Roommate in the hall who was making her way into the room. "Don't go in there!" I said. She looks at me as if to say "Why?" "What is the worst thing that could ever happen?" I asked her. Her eyes widened in terror "Oh no!" she cried, "Eggy fart?" Eggy fart? Eggy fart, people! In English she said it and everything. Oh how I laughed! But then when I told her what it was and would she mind getting rid of it she just said "No fucking way, I'm sleeping in the kitchen." That's when I knew the arduous task was up to me. I must take on this fearful winged nemesis. I reached a trembling hand to the door handle, and slowly, slowly, opened the door a tiny crack. I could hear it scrabbling around in the lamp. I pushed the door ever so slightly and made to enter, clad solely in santa boxers and a vest, brandishing a flip flop, with Roommate clinging to my other arm like those little koala souvenirs from Australia with their pinchy arms that cling onto curtains and the like. I could still hear him scrabbling around. I took a careful step into the room. And then...silence. He was on to me. He was perched on the lampshade, looking straight at me. Our eyes met, my blue ones with his hairy ones. I could tell by his face what he wanted - he wanted to rub his hairy body all over my silky one. He wanted to kiss and caress me with his hairy moth lips. We stared at each other. He knew my game. I knew his. It was game on.

He immediately took flight over my head and Roommate ran screaming out into the hall, while I danced around the room like a boxer in the ring, wishing that instead of my havaiana flip flop I could have Roommate's, if only for it's sheer sonic power. Then finally, finally, he foolishly landed on the ground and BLAM! I squooshed him good and proper. His little hairy moth soul went to the big lightbulb in the sky. I am never opening the window AGAIN.

Week Seventeen

Saturday 3rd May

Holy shizzle, the battle for the deposit just stepped up a notch. She is pretty adamant that she is keeping the entire deposit, and I am pretty adamant that I will wrench that cash from her cold dead hands if I have to.

Sunday 4th May

Avoid the bitch all day. She whinges to Roommate about it. Fuckin psycho.

Wednesday 7th May

Exam today. After studying my brains out for the last two days, I get up nice and early and walk into town to meet the girls to prepare myself mentally and physically for the task ahead. The sun is splitting the rocks, as it is every time anyone in the world ever has an exam. Exam goes grand.

Then we all head for a lovely little cafe and get some pastries and bask in the glorious sunshine. However, as I reach for my custard tart, my friendship ring falls off my finger and breaks in two pieces on the ground. Nooo! Im heartbroken, but Classmate says its grand, everyone elses broke ages ago. About an hour later I get a text from Husband saying he is 4mins away. FUUUUUUUCK! Leap from the chair and peg it off to the station and get there just in time to see him get off the bus with his curly wurly head on him. CANT BELIEVE he made it all the way over here all on his own without at the very least a minor personal injury. I'm so proud.

Head home and then indulge in our favourite weekly pastime - food shopping. Took our sweet time taking in the exquisite decadence of all the gorgeous food, picked out some gorgeous fresh fare, and headed home to make sweet dinner love to it, before falling into a food coma. Got up later and went for a stroll around town and sat in the piazza having a leisurely gelato and a nice chit chat. And by chit chat of course, I mean gossip fest. He's a great fella for the gossip, I must say. He ALWAYS knows whats going on in Home & Away, even though he "doesnt watch it". Mmm hmm Husband, I know your game. Head home and fall fast asleep.

Wake up in the middle of the night and stand up on my bed on my tippy toes to have a little google at him sleeping in the bunk bed. Ah, look. He's doing that arm-over shoulder thing he always does, bless. He looks like a little bearded baby. I feel a stirring deep in my heart. But then I take some Rennie Deflatine and that seems to sort it out.

Thursday 8th May

Another gorgeous day today, I take Husband in around town to see the sights and to go shopping. Oh how I love shopping with him! He's like a little dress up doll, everything he picks up looks amazing on him. Jammy fecker. And I'm in a particularly good mood today cos he said he would reintroduce the Weekend Present. Hurray!

The Weekend Present is, in my opinion, the best idea he ever had. I mean, its genius really. The idea itself is very basic; all week I hint at something I super duper want (or he thinks up something brilliant that he thinks I should have) and then on Fridays he gets it for me. And I'd be in college all day thinking about my Weekend Present (what could it be?) and then I go home and he has it laid out on the bed for me. Sure God love him. What does he get in return, I hear you asking? His t shirts perfectly folded and colour coded in the wardrobe, a lovely lunch in the morn for college into which I sometimes packed a little surprise; except the surprise was more often then not that I had drank half of his lucozade (Phone rings. Jenniky: hello? Husband: why did you only give me a half a bottle of lucozade in my lunch, Jennikybooky? Jenniky : eeeeeeeeeeeeeeem....I love you?), as well as homemade apple crumbles cos I know he loves them AND my limitless adoration of him even when he makes the bed the wrong way.

So anyway we head into the park with Roommate and we lie down on the grass for a spot of olympic lounging, and Husband decides to head off for a wander. Unusual, I thought to myself. Very unlike him. A good while later he came back with four cans of coke and a bag of pick n mix. My jaw was on the ground. Imagine him swanning around on his jack jones conducting business in Italian. And he had four cans of coke. Why did you get four? I asked him. Because he didnt know what three was in Italian. Hahahahahahaha! Fell around the place laughing. I can’t be sure, but I think a little bit of my heart melted. Either that or a little bit of wee came out.

Friday 9th May

That night I have another little peek at him in the bed a-haboo. Ah sure God love him. I look at his hands and his fingers and his nails and it suddenly occurs to me that he is this big hairy beast of a man just lying there asleep and I find myself asking who’s yer man eh? He seems different.

I get this overwhelming feeling that I would give absolutely everything I have to protect him from harm or hurt or any unpleasantness in life, such as poorly made gravy, for example. He half wakes up and does a little sleepy grumble. Ooh. Heart Strings. There is a definite tugging there.

I always thought my Grandad was the perfect man ( not for me like, Jesus lads, get yere minds out of the gutter) but my Nanny had terrible Alzheimers for the last ten years of her life and she was so so sick and Grandad looked after her every day. He never sent her to a home or anything, even though he was getting older and more frail himself. He looked after her right up until the day she died, because even though she wasnt really there, she was still his Alice, the woman he married and promised to look after, and he kept his promise til death did them part. And thats what love is. Even though it killed him to see her so disoriented, it must have been unspeakably frustrating and he must have been so lonely and have yearned for the Alice she used to be, he never abandoned her or cast her off because he just loved her to smithereens, and that to me is the mark of a man. I always thought to myself that when I met a man that I could see honouring me as much as Grandad honoured Nanny, then he'd be the fella for me. And lo! Here he is, lying in me spare bed. I look at his little peaceful face, feel a big whoosh of emotion and suddenly realise that I am inexplicably, desperately, endlessly in love with him.


Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Week Sixteen

Saturday 26th April

Get up bright and early and head to Fran's for 9am, as she has kindly offered to let me use her wireless intyweb for the day. Sit out on the balcony for a spot of breakfast and I notice that my hayfever symptoms are even worse than usual, I mean the snot factory production line are clearly doing some overtime. Have to bring a roll of toilet roll out with me and soon enough, its gone and I'm surrounded by little crumpled up balls of disgustingness. What the hell is wrong with me? I've been taking the Flixonase religiously, it must have built up in my system by now!

Head inside and start eking out the structure of my Machiavelli essay, ie watching America's Next Top Model online. I'm not enjoying it today though, because those old familiar feelings are creeping back over me; that pain in the top of my head, aches and pains all over, even the hairs on my arms hurt. It is quickly becoming clear that it's not the hayfever that's bothering me, oh no.

Fran looks up and nearly falls off the chair "You look like shit!" I'm just sitting there "is this for real? Is this for FUCKING real? Sick AGAIN?!" This is becoming a friggin joke. Im eating really well and looking after the bod like, give me a break! I stumble home (might puke on the bus) and fall into the bed, it even hurts to lie there. Now I'm really just wrecked. And not just my poor little sick bod, but my head is wrecked as well. Seriously like, my spirit is just crushed. I'm tired and I'm working hard and I have other stuff going on and I just cant take much more of anything, to be honest. I lie there and have a little cry for meself. Sure God love me. Then Roommate walks in and has a freak out when she sees the state of me, and I must say I was in a right state alright. Then she minds me for the night. I loves her so I does.

Later on my internet husband rings me. I'm like ah me oul segooshta ringing me up to look after me. How are you he says? Im dying sick AGAIN I say and Im just about to say (read: whinge) about how worn down I am and how I could do with a telephonic mind when he cuts across me and goes "yeah Im not feeling so great myself, Im wrecked blah blah whinge whinge" Well I looked down on the ground, and sure enough, there was my jaw. Now come on, I felt like saying, come the fuck on like. And I wouldnt mind, but thats his permanent state of being, and here I am ACTUALLY teetering on the brink of death and I dont get a fuckin look in. It was so bad it was actually funny. For the rest of the conversation I was like "yeah, yeah, oh yeah, ok bye now" in disbelief. I come to the conclusion that there is no doubt about it, he must be a feral child. Although being raised by wolves is still no excuse for being such a gobdaw.

Sunday 27th April

Lie in bed, unable to move. Try to stand up a few times but its all a bit too wobbly yet and as a result have to lie in bed bursting for a pee for hours. My condition is not helped by the annoyingness of Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore. She enters the room 47 times, to tell me various things like "I haven't pooed in 5 days" and "I found 2 dead spiders in the kitchen". Oh good Jesus Christ I wish she would just FUCK OFF out of the house and get a life for herself. She is driving me to Chinois. Those two spiders probably committed suicide after being in the kitchen with her for over 5 mins. And I don't fuckin blame them!

Monday 28th April

Head back to Fran’s and actually start doing some work on my essay. Go home for dinner and B-FW casually mentions while I have a forkful of pasta in my mouth “Oh well Im keeping your deposit until next year, just to make sure that all your bills are covered.” And Im like “I cant even look you in your stupid ignorant face you twat” so I just mutter “yeah yeah” not really listening, and go on eating my dinner and enjoying some Walker Texas Ranger. It is only lying in bed that night that the realization of what she is trying to do (rob us blind) finally hits me.


Tuesday 29th April

Back to Fran’s today where she jumps on the knitting bandwagon. Current population:me and Fran.

Wednesday 30th April

Myself and Roomate have an in-depth discussion about the deposit situation and I tell B-FW that there will be no holding of deposits, oh no. She protests that that’s the done thing over here (lies). I tell her it isn’t that I don’t trust her (lies) but I’d rather sort out the bills before I go. I think the message is getting through that the gravy train is over – and I aint takin no more of her shizzle. She tells me she will discuss it with “Papa”. She cant even wipe her arse without discussing it with Papa first. God she is such a weirdo. I KNEW I should've moved out when I found her takin a shit with the door open.

Friday 2nd May

Did some interwebbing yesterday in Fran’s. Today head to Lush with Roommate to arm ourselves to the gills with lovely smellies to numb the pain of sharing an apartment with a fucking mental case. Tra la la headed to the park and lazed in the grass, enjoying our last few weeks together. How will I go on without her? Her Bedtime Radio Antics, Continuous Bed Kicking and Super Sonic Flip-Flops have become as soothing as whale song to me. I can't be parted from her! I won't do it!

A good week for the Diet as I could only eat solid foods for 5 out of the 7 days, so I didn't do the "Big Shop", thus saving myself a fortune in Chinois. Dark clouds could be looming on the budgetary horizon though if Bitch-Faced Whore goes any further with her money-grabbing. As amusing as her psychosis is to myself and Roommate, at times she really makes me want to drink a weedkiller cocktail. But through a twirly straw. Or one of those beer hats. You'd need that. Lighten the mood a bit, like.

Week Fifteen

Saturday 19th April

A truly amazing thing happened this morning. After having to literally FORCE myself to perform the most unpleasant task of going for a run the first few times, I woke up at 5am literally RARING to go. I COULDNT WAIT to "lep up" out of the bed, but I had to wait until it got a bit brighter. Just before 6am I literally couldnt wait any more and sprang out of the scratcher, loaded the twins into a sports bra, threw on my gear and hit the road. I got nice and warm and then when I started running, it was just incredible. The first few times I really was teetering on the brink of death, but this time I couldnt believe how much my fitmess levels had improved and I was literally EUPHORIC flapping around the park, big retard's run on me. Returned home, triumphant. Did some gorgeous stretches (one of my many great pleasures in life) and then arsed around the house for a bit but then realised I couldnt really do anything because it was still really early on a saturday morning and so I just lay back on the bed and did some reading.

Later on, I headed into town for my monthly fix of Glamour and headed home to have my Saturday chillax. Ah, Saturdays. I love you so.

Sunday 20th April

Wake up completely stuffed up, snot factory production levels having reached a record high. Can't take this suffering any more so head into the 24hour pharmacy to get my flixonase, if they do that over here. It's around a tenner like, which will seriously damage my budget-following abilities but I seriously can't go on like this anymore. Go into the girl, who says they do flixonase, showing me the bottle which is the exact same as at home. Rejoicing, I tell her I'll take it. "24 euro" she says. "TWENTY FOUR EURO" I said "you are NOT serious". "I am" she says, and 5 mins later I'm outside the chemist, self-administering that sweet nasal spray which will end my suffering, simultaneously filled with joy and disgust. It is just ridiculous how expensive everything is over here. So I decide to console myself with a gelato. Sure you'd have to, at times like these.

Monday 21st April

A lovely leisurely day today, on top of my studies, living in Italy and generally feeling good about life. Until I go to bed and Roommate starts off with what I have christened her Bedtime Radio Antics (BRA). It is a mystery that I am struggling to solve. As she never goes outside, she just lies around the house all day listening to her phone radio through her headphones...and laughing hysterically. I'm talking about HYSTERICALLY. And because she doesn't do anything all day, she can't sleep at night so she just lies in bed listening to her radio and laughing hysterically. With me in the bed 2 foot away from her. FUMING. Flames coming out of me ears like, I HATE NOISE.

And it's a combobulation of noisy factors as well, not just the laughing. It's the tinny sounds of the radio coming from the headphones, her laughing AND her continuously pressing the buttons to change the channel. A sonic nightmare. But then I began to make some unnerving observations. Like I was like what is so funny about Italian radio? So I started listening to it and there is nothing funny about it. Like, nothing. And so then I started to strain my ears to listen to what she was laughing at in the bed. And it was a song. A SONG. And these aren't funny songs she's listening to. The other night my ear was out on a stalk trying to hear what she was laughing at and it was that new JT/Timbaland/Old Hag song, nay, abomination, 4 Minutes. And she was IN THE KNOTS. Like out loud bustin her hole laughin. Come on now. Come on. Please now. Should I be frightened? Cos I am a small bit.

Tuesday 22nd April

Awake inspired to study manically and spend most of the morning and early afternoon brewing up a serious study storm at my desk. And loving it. Usually I would only muster up a study gentle summer breeze but this was a fully blown cyclone.

Recieve text from Classmate and go into town to meet her. Apparently the French dept at Trinity want us to get 10 more credits or they'll fail us for the year. Oh dear. Head out to the villa to resolve this monstrous problem. By watching America's Next Top Model.

Wednesday 23rd April

Cue the most stressful day I have had in at least a year. Classmate and I made some apointments to speak to people who could possibly help us with our hoooge problem. We headed into town and proceeded to run from appointment to appointment in the sweltering heat. By the end of the day though, we appeared to have found a solution (thanks to Hugues), and celebrated with an ice-cream. Whoop! Then meet Empress and Denis, and Empress buys us all a friendship ring each. Aww.Strolled home in the blistering sun, thoroughly relieved and kicked back and relaxed for the rest of the night and watched La Vie En Rose. Top notch.

Thursday 24th April

Ah, my favourite day of the week! Head into Hugue's class and spend the entire two hours wondering what kind of a husband would he be. An unsatisfactory one, I decide, having weighed up the pros and cons:

1. He's not The Rock.
2. He's not very hairy.
3. He wears short sleeved shirts to work (hello Hugues? UNPROFESSIONAL!!!)
4. I bet you he wears tight underpants. Or at the very least those tight boxer man-knickers. Shudder.

1. If he was my husband I could have wanton sex with him whenever I liked (whoop!)
2. Our 17 thousand children would be trilingual because I would speak to them in English, he would speak to them in French, and we would be living in Italy.
3. On Sundays we could go for a cycle with the kids on little kiddie seats on his bike. Me with sausage dog in the basket of mine, and a little baby bump under my dress. (Wistful sigh)
4. I could have sex with him whenever I liked. (This one is so good it deserves to be mentioned twice)
5. I could make phone calls like this "Hello, I'm calling on behalf of my husband, Dr. Hugues Sheeren" Hee hee!
6. I get to hear "Jenny-fare" every day for the rest of my life.

Sadly however, all these lovely pros are totally outweighed by the giant glaring con that he isn't The Rock. Or even The Rock-esque. Or even medium build. Tough break, Hugues.

Head to Rosso San Martino for a bargainous lunch. It's this lovely little place where you can get a primo piatto, secondo piatto, dessert and water for a tenner! Amazering. Yum yum! Head home, belly full and study for the rest of the day.

Friday 25th April

Wake up and the sun is splitting the rocks, the birds are singing in the trees, a gentle breeze caressing my cheeks. Then I pull the duvet back over me arse, and that puts an end to that. Big lazy stretch and make my morning happy sounds (purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! mmmmmmmmmmmmm!) Ah, how much better can it get? Living in Italy, gorgeous weather, Hugues in the bed next to me...wait-Hugues? No, it's just Pablo my pillow boyfriend. Prince says it's undignified to sleep alone cos that's what people ain't got nobody do. But I take comfort in the fact that way over there in Ireland, there is a lonely holey-eared quantity surveyor lying in his big bed with only Pamela his pillow girlfriend for company. I bet she's rubbing her cottony mitts all over his tattooed body. Bitch!

Head to the park with Roommate and spend the rest of the day lying there reading. I was just getting into my book and nice and relaxed when out of nowhere BIFF! This tiny little puppy just ran straight into my face. Like STRAIGHT into it! Out of nowhere. And it would have been like my dream come true if his little snotty nose hadn't smeared itself all over my mouth. And he was all like "Jenniky I ran over here cos I saw you and I knew we were meant to be together" but I was like "You know it would never work out between us, puppy, you have another owner" and he was like "come on. we could make it work" and I was like "Im sorry, I wont share you with anyone else" and then he ran off, never to be seen again, leaving me heartbroken. Then this really strange person came over to Roommate and asked if he could do her portrait, and then a half an hour later he produced the MOST AMAZING portait I have ever seen in my life. "That's crap" Roommate goes. I was like "WHAT!? That is AMAZING!" And then he cycled off. Home to his underground hovel to add Roommate's portrait to his wall of "people to kill in a most horrific way and then dismember and most likely store in my fridge Jeffrey Dahmer-style".

A TERRIBLE week on the Diet front, due to the 24 snot medication binge. It triggered off a chain of indulging events which led me to be 50 euro over budget. See now? SEE! These are the dangers of such extreme diets! You starve yourself for so long that one little slip and BAM! You start going down the slippery slope, and before you know it, you've got 8 soya yoghurts in your shopping basket! Damn you soya yoghurts! Damn you to HELL!

Week 14

Saturday 12th April

Rose from the leaba and said to myself that today was going to be the day I would tackle Storia della Lingua. Did my bit of shopping, breezed through my Saturday menial tasks (I love Saturdays), sat down at my desk with my Lingua stuff and.........promptly spent the rest of the day on the internet. Godammit Jenniky will you ever learn to resist the lure of the internet husband? (The answer is no)

Sunday 13th April

Right that's it, I'm serious this time. I am doing my Lingua. I am NOT basking in the tattooed gloriousness of Flesh Tunnels all day. I'll just go on the internet for a second though. Check my emails, like. It'll only take me a minute. Oh look, Flesh Tunnel's online (because I text him that I was online), I'll just say well, sure it'd be RUDE not to. Webcam? Ah sure why not, it'll only take a second. Awwwwwww he's so wonderful AND he's not wearing anything sleeveless. Aaaaaaaaaaaand it's 10pm. Shit.

Monday 14th April

Wake up at 6.30pm to go for an especially gruelling jog to punish myself for being such a bad person. Now, as I've said before I go so early to save everyone from their eyes squirting blood at the sight of me huffing and puffing as I pelt around the park. And usually the only people in the park at that time is oul' fellas bringin their dogs out for a poo and "immigints" going to work. But not today, people, oh no. I'm merrily going about my sweaty way and I turn the corner and lo - there coming towards me is...ANOTHER JOGGER! And A REAL one, not a baby one like me. God the terror! He's pulled out all the stops now, he's even got the fecking legging yokes that draw the eye to his beacon-like package, set off by his Fame-esque sweatshirt slashed at the shoulder. I am MORTO.

I immediately go (even more) illuminous red. Right, the only thing I can do is switch directions so we are running away from each other. Make a nifty left at the trampolines and run past the basketball courts, feeling pretty smug. Hee hee, I'm so stealthy! Look down at my stopwatch to time my interval and look up and WTF?!!! He's RIGHT there, bombing it towards me.What the hell, like? He is some kind of supernatural ninja jogging FREAK. We are running directly towards each other and he is totally sizing me up and we're giving each other evils. I just can't do it, like I just can't face up to running past him, so just as I get to like 10 feet of him, I just turn abruptly left and belt it off across the grass. Like a total retard. Why, Jenniky? WHY!? God, I HATE myself sometimes. But one thing I know for certain, this must NEVER happen again. Make a silent pact to come even earlier in future.

Go home and spend the rest of the day doing Lingua to get my mind off being a total berk. It doesn't work, though, and every now and then I get an actual physical pain from the sheer extremity of the cringeing I'm doing every time it pops into my head.

Tuesday 15th April

Ok people. The need for a yoghurt is STRONG. Whatever about milk now, I don't even like milk, and I wouldn't drink it if it weren't for my sexual relationship with cereal. But yoghurt. Dear, beloved yoghurt. It eases my pain.Toss and turn all night thinking about how I JUST WANT A YOGHURT. But no, I dont just want a yoghurt. I want 47 yoghurts. All over my naked body, perhaps. Or someone else's naked body. Preferably The Rock's, who is my Dream Husband, by the way. Or maybe just some cheese. Like even the tiniest ickle wickle bit. God this is so tough. Damn you dairy and the inexplicable power you have over me! Head down to the supermarket, foaming at the mouth. Into the yoghurt aisle, like Pavlov's dog. Oooh all the colours! The flavours! But I can't have them! Scan the aisle for soya yoghurts, and 5 mins later I spot them. 1 flavour. 1 lousy flavour. And guess what flavour it was. Cherry. Cherry, like. Fuck it, I say to myself, it's this or nothing. So I buy a 2-pack for the bargainous price of E1.89 and head home, equally miffed and joyous. Sit down on the couch, turn off the telly, and prepare the surrounding area for the consumption of said yoghurts. A few mins later they are both gone, and i'm less than impressed. Deffo not getting them again. Until tomorrow.

Roommate heads off to her course and I can live in peace for the day. Head into town and meet Fran for a cuppa. However, by the time I get into town I am seriously suffering. My head feels like a beach ball and I am a snot factory and I want to reach inside my ear and scratch my brain. It can only mean one thing - the hayfever is back. Have no cash to buy Flixonase til next week though. Walk home and by the time I get home I am a broken woman. I feel as if there is a hood over my head and I'm just generally in bits. SO annoying. Struggled through a bit of Lingua but then resigned myself to the fact it was time for bed. Snuggled up in bed and watched Walk Hard (could be better) and Starter for 10 (James you can do no wrong). Sniffing and snarfling my way through the whole thing. Oooooh poor Jenniky, she's not well!

Wednesday 16th April

Up again for another 6.30 am run. Halfway through though my head started feeling really heavy and I was about to scratch the eyes from my head. Hayfever. At 6.30 am. GRRRRR! Finished the jog and went home with a head like a dog I was so annoyed over the hayfever. Had a lovely shower, read for a bit and then headed into Fran's.

Returned home and avoided Bitch-Faced Whore for the night. I would rather chew wool than have to talk to her and pretend I dont want to hit her over the head with a shovel.
Thursday 17th April

Awake, gleeful. It's Thursday which means today I get to feast my eyes on Hugues. Oh his wonderfulness knows no end. Today we do "Si" tenses and as it's a pretty tough topic, he decides to make us pair up into twos and play a grammar game. A grammar game, people. Once an oxymoron but no more! During the game he walks around the room and listens in on people. He makes his way over to me and man-I-can-never-quite-catch-his-name (Viemis?) and proceeds to lean over me, breathing down the back of my neck. Oh. My. God. Every single nerve cell in my body was ON FIRE. It was nipple city in my vest. So needless to say I was just sitting in the chair staring emptily at Viemis like some kind of erotically charged vegetable. I couldn't even THINK, never mind plus-que-parfait. So then he's like "Jenny-fare? Are you sleeping?" I'm like "No Hugues, I'm having an erotic fantasy about you, dear." Manage to make it through the rest of the class and then myself and Classmate head to grab a slice of pizza, me leaving a snail trail the whole way.

We go to our usual haunt and ordered our pizzas and as they are in the oven, the guy who is making the pizzas has all the dough rolled out ready for tomato sauce and then he steps back and does a GIANT sneeze all over them. Like straight onto them, he doesnt even put his hand to his mouth. I recoil in horror and Classmate is like "What?" and just as I was about to recount the horrid tale he DID IT AGAIN. And then to make matters worse he did a big snarfly snot in his SLEEVE. Like right in front of the counter. How stupid can you be? I reeled back in horror, thoughts of all the snot pizzas I've had out of there dancing in my head. Needless to say we hot-footed it out of there, never to return.

Go home to find that Bitch-Faced Whore has returned to Calabria for a wedding. Whoop! And our house ceases to be a concentration camp the second she walks out the door. As Roommate and I say "quando il gatto non c'e', i topi ballano" which roughly translates as "she is a fucking slavedriver and fuck me if I am disinfecting the kitchen presses this Sunday". Celebrate with another 2 soya yoghurts, each as rotten as the last, and do a nice face mask, thus spending more than a half an hour in the bathroom. B-FW would turn in her granny pyjamas if she knew. Hee hee!

Friday 18th April

Wake up at 5.55am. Will I head out for a run? Nah, I'll go back asleep, I'm knackered. And then I don't know what happened but suddenly I found myself doing the squillionth lap of the park. I had NO IDEA how I even GOT there. At first when I started running I HATED it, but I just loved the results, but now I'm ADDICTED to it. I love the early morning like that where everyone else is a-haboo in their little beds and all I can hear is my feet pounding off the ground.

Later that day, despite my oath to be really bold while B-FW is gone, I can't help myself and I scrub the bathroom and floors. God, I make myself SICK. Curse myself for being so weak, and punish myself for it by spending the majority of the day studying up a storm.

Another good week, in that I didnt go over budget, but I did end up without a pingin rua and on Friday I had to combobulate literally everything I had left, which resulted in some "interesting" meals. Also, I foresee the soya yoghurt thing becoming a bit of a problem. I'm the bestest girl for giving up the dairy though. That's what Eddie told me anyway. In my head.

Week Thirteen

Right, this week I am going to stick to the Diet and really starve myself. Financially, I mean. The only trouble with starving yourself like this is that after a while you will be so starved (of joy) that you will totally go out and binge on something you should never have bought. Like Glamour and Cosmo, for example. Oh how I miss magazines!

Saturday 5th April

Wake up and potter about doing my Saturday menial tasks that I love so dearly. Midmorning, a thought enters my mind - had the forbidden twix met it's stomachy grave yet? And if not, I was fully intent on seeing to it that it did. I opened the fridge and what do ya know? It was gone! I woke Roommate immediately and demanded an explanation. In a sleepy Polish daze she told me she couldn't help herself - "I'm prone to Twix Attacks". "No!" I gasped, "Surely you cant be serious?" Lie down there now I told her, she needed her rest, lest she be struck down by another Twix Attack. She reassured me that it wouldnt happen again for a long time. They come at her thick and fast, but then she eats 7 Twixes and its gone for a few months. But little did I know what was lurking around the corner.....

Later that day she comes home with her Lidl bag. And pulls out a Snickers multipack. Needless to say I almost died of shock to see a Snickers in my house. And a BRAND NAME Snickers as well, not a let-on one. "Whats going on here Bajszcsak?" She looked up at me "Snickers Attack". And sure enough, three cups of tea later and they were all gone.

I head out to do my own shopping, which proves to be an extremely arduous task given that I am cutting out dairy for a while. For the past few months I've had a continuous pain in my ear like it is full of water, but when I went to the doctor he said there's nothing in there, just scars from when I used have ear infections as a little'un. So as dairy allegedly clogs you up will all mucus and basically turns you into a snot factory, I decided to knock it on the head for a bit and see what happens, as a sort of experiment. But not a fun one, like the ones on Mythbusters.

For those of you who dont know this, I LOVE dairy. Like, I LOVE it. Cheese shines a light onto my life, and Im not just talking about the light on my face when I open the fridge door, oh no. I LOVE dairy. I love yoghurts they are so amazing they make me feel good inside. Oh dairy, how can I live without your milky goodness? Head to Esselunga and buy a litre of soy milk for the rock bottom price of three euro. Eddie only let me off with it because it was for the good of my health. He's as good like that.

Head off down town to the library to watch America's Next Top Model. I mean, how can I really be expected to live without the internet, people? I have NEEDS!

Sunday 6th April

Wake up with the world's worst indigestion which is always a sign of the stress attack to come. Totally freaked out about my exam that I was due to do the following Tuesday. Didn't freak out enough to actually DO any study, because I thought lying on the bed succumbing to my palpitations would make all my problems go away. A tried and true technique of mine.

Midway through the day I decide I have a primal NEED for a can of coke. Unfortunately, on Sundays the world stops turning over here so all the shops are closed. I express my desires to Roommate and she seconds them wholeheartedly. What to do, what to do? Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind - wasn't there a coke vending machine on the street on Ugo Bassi? A mere 30 mins slog away? By jove - I'd got it! Get dressed Roommate, I said, we're gettin us some coke.

So we walked the half hour into Ugo Bassi, got two bottles of coke, and promptly turned back around and walked home, laughing the entire way about what a pair of total knobs we were. Later that evening I was just whingeing to Roommate about how crap it was that the internet was on the blink "in this day and age" and she said "you only think that because you're from the future", and then continued on to explain to me that every time I return to Ireland, Im actually returning to the future, or going "back to the future" if you will, and that here in Bologna it's actually many years behind my time. We got a good half an hour out of that one.

Monday 7th April

And lo! The day dawned and she arose from the leaba at 6.45am to go for a jog. "Whats this madness?" I hear you asking? Decided to even out my waist-to-love-handle ratio and so am embarking on a new regime to get myself back to mint condition. Shouldn't be too difficult. It doesn't take long to polish a diamond, like. Head to the local park behind the church under cover of the crack of dawn so noone has to witness the visual nightmare of me huffing and puffing my way around the basketball courts. Literally, I have to battle every step of the way. My oesophagus is ON FIRE, and afterwards, Im ashamed to say, copious amounts of phlegm were coughed up. (The result of years of dairy abuse?) It's all good though, and I head back to the house elated.

My day gets even saintlier as I do large amounts of study, but only because I have an exam tomorrow. The exam is on Dante's La Commedia. It's a one-hour oral exam in Italian. Whoop dee doo! I study my BRAINS out over Inferno and Purgatorio and by the evening time I'm so wrecked that I just don't even open Paradiso. I've read the entire work like twice, but I havent studied any of the Canto in Paradiso in detail, but tell myself I'll be fine. God, it's the Leaving Cert all over again. Which I still have anxiety dreams about, by the way.

Then engage in a spot of verbal sparring with Roommate, which goes the way it always does (Jenniky: Whatever, Lesbian. Roomate: Whatever, Fatty) She then says that I should write about our exploits and entitle my work "Two Idiots in a Small Space". Oh, Roommate. If only you knew.

Tuesday 8th April

Wake up, heart racing over the exam and quickly get ready and head in for the fusillade. Roll call is at 9am, after which people go in one by one for an hour each, making my time about 12ish. Everyone is sitting outside the lecturer's office seriously shitting it, but thankfully I have a little vial of something special for such an occasion. Calm and collected, I just randomly swot up on Canto 17 of Paradiso before I head in, praying it will go well for me, then give myself some powerful good vibes, like The Secret taught me.

He calls me in and I am seriously having a shitfreak. I mean there is only one image I can use to describe how up in a heap I was; and that image is a profusely sweaty arse crack. I sit down and promptly forget every single word of Italian I have ever known and actually have to mentally slap myself across the face before I can go any further. He then opens up the his little mini Commedia and hands it to me on Canto 2 of Inferno. "Great", I think to myself, "this can totally make up for when I havent a notion of the Paradiso canto he asks me later". So I go on about that for a bit, and then he asks me my DREAM QUESTION. I couldn't believe it. So I went on to describe the last voyage of Ulysses - without words, mind. Picture lots of "woahs" and "WHOOSH"es and "AAAAAAAARRRGH"s and his little delighted head on him sitting there thinking I was all passionate about his life's work when really I only like telling stories with sound effects. So that was Inferno and Purgatorio sorted.

Then he started flicking through Paradiso and I was like "how am I going to get through this?" And he was sitting there going "now this is a very important canto, vital to the theme of prophesy blah blah' and I was sitting there thinking "shit shit shit shit shit" and then he hands me the book. I couldnt believe it. Canto 17, that I had literally studied half an hour before. I swear to God, it was like the Lord came down and said "this ones goes out to my home slice j-dizzle". I went on and on about that, delighted out of my head, and he actually stopped me and was like "great, great. I can see you really understand the concept of the work blah blah." And I was just thinking oh my god please just pass me. and then he said "I would give you 30" (marks are all out of 30) and I was like YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS and then he said "but.." and I was like NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, and then he went on to say that he would have given me 30 if my Italian was better, but he would give me 27 for now, but if I came back to the next exam in a month's time after improving my Italian a bit he would give me 30. Little did he know that I don't need the marks, I only need the the 18 out of 30 to pass so I was like "eh, yeah, about that..." and he got all excited and took his little diary out of his little man bag and started showing me dates and things but I was like "I cant do another exam, I have 2 next month" and his face just FELL. I felt TERRIBLE. But that didn't last for long as I skipped merrily out of the room, a really difficult exam done, and done well at that. G'wan Jenzer!

Head home and decide to treat myself to the slobbing about that I deserved and sat down and started reading a mag, but after a while I had to head to bed because I wasn't feeling well at all. Every single part of my poor little bod was hurting me. This must be the fourth time this has happened to me since I came here. It must be the stress just contributing to my COMPLETE LACK of an immune system. Fall asleep and have those terrible black and white sick-dreams about Tramore that you get when you have a fever.

Wednesday 9th April

Needless to say, no jog for me today. Stayed in bed all day drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. Mammy!

Thursday 10th April

Woke up and was under the false impression that I had my strength back and decided to get up. However, halfway through my shower I was like "this was clearly a big mistake". Head back to bed, where I was in that horrible place where you're too well to sleep all day, but you're too sick to get up, thus increasing your chances of dying a gruesome boredom-related death by 78%. I solved this problem by lurking around on the internet all day.

Friday 11th April

Woke up and knew that today was the day I could finally get out of bed. Had my appetite back and felt so much better. Treated myself to my dearly beloved menial tasks like putting lovely fabric conditioner-scented sheets on the bed, folding laundry etc. God, I LOVE domestic life. Forget the whole languages thing, my ultimate goal in life is to be a housewife. A hot housewife, obviously. Ah, I can see it now...... (cut to scene)Waking up in the morning in my gorgeous bed with large and hairy husband next to me (one green eye one blue, big sexy beard, forearms the size of thighs. Enjoys Sunday walks and kissing me at traffic lights) Send husband off to work after morning shagathon. Do a general scrub of house from top to bottom, luxuriate in the shower, then do myself up to the nines and head out to lunch with "the girls". Return home, bring dog for a walk, calling into both my mother and his mother (keep her sweet, like) bringing freshly baked goods, of course. As it's Friday in my dreamlife, I wont put on the fine dinner I usually do, cos Fridays are when myself and my hot bearded husband go out to dinner and then to the pictures. Instead I'll sit down in my Jenniky room (oh there'll be one) and read all the books I want, cos i've got the time, people. Iron a few of his giant shirts (a large man, is my dream husband) before doing myself up in wait of his return from work. He walks in the door, we have a smoochfest, probably a sneaky quickie then we'll do ourselves up and head out for our lovely Friday evening, and then return for another shagathon. Hopefully. With a bit of luck. Please?

Return to reality and myself and Roommate head to the pictures which is my favourite pastime in the world. Went to see what we thought was a comedy it turned out to be one of those comedies that has a moving part in it that you learn a life lesson from. Cue me in floods of tears, snot flying everywhere. I look sideways and Roommate's face resembles a wet blimp. When the credits come up, we leg it out under cover of darkness, to hide our swollen red heads. Walk home arm in arm with our hair covering our faces, frequenting the vending machine on Ugo Bassi on the way. Good times!

Another proud week for Eddie. I bought a ridiculously overpriced imported magazine AND went to the pictures, and I was still within the budget. But that was only because I couldn't eat anything for 4 days. On a different note, any large and hairy men looking for a wife? Any takers? No?