Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Week Twenty One

Monday 22nd Feb

Got up this morning full of the joys of Spring. Meseff and himseff had our breakfast and then he went into the bathroom while I was tidying up. The next thing I heard some sounds. It sounded! It couldn't be, could it? It sounded like he was brushing his teeth. Surely not! He always brushes his teeth in his own room - it's how he asserts his independence. I busted into the bathroom and he turns around with a big surprised head on him, with his toothbrush hanging out of his Big Brown lips:

"What's up girl?"

"You're in here with your toothbrush!" I goes.

"Yeah", he goes, "and I brought in my deodorant as well, I'm going to leave them here. Is that ok?"

"Grand by me", says I, and I came out of the bathroom, delighted outta me head.

He came out then:

"You're delighted I brought my toothbrush in here aren't you?" he goes.

"Yeah I so am," I goes.

Short pause.

"I'm delighted as well."


That night I went to training and ran the legs off meself. He had soccer training at the same time and I was home and showered before him. I heard him clip clopping up the hall in his soccer boots. I opened the door and lads, I fell in love all over again. That sounds so bent, but it's true.

He was head to toe in muck and shite and his face was all dirty and he looked about 12. Shur God love him.

He had a shower then and we went out after 11 to the pub for drinks and snacks.

I love drinks and snacks.

The minute we sat down though we realised we were wrecked. We could barely even talk to each other. Then after a sniff of a drink each the two of us were all tipsy and giggly in the corner of the pub. I could barely even chew me sandwich. After about an hour or so we said we'd head home.

We went outside and it was raining and freezing and we were so far away from home (there are no taxis in the nights).

"I know!" I said, "Let's time ourselves!", employing the age old trick my sister used to use on me to get me to go to the shop for her. Flashback:

"Run up to the Yellow House and get me a ten p mixture and a bag of cheesy popcorn - I'll time ya!"

Me then, the bigger eejit running down the road at top speed.


"15 mins!", says he.

"13!", slurred I, and the two of us started speedwalking up the road.

In the end we made it in 17, even though we jogged some of the way.

Note: when I am jogging, I do not love drinks and snacks.

Tuesday 23rd Feb

Woke up this morning delighted out of our heads, because it's the first time since we met that he doesn't have to study all day. We had a lovely breakfast and lunch and then we went into town to do a bit of shopping. We went into Marlboro Classics where he told the girl he was looking for a light polo neck jumper. Now I am generally against polo necks on the under 30's but when he came out of the the dressing room in this polo neck I nearly fell down on the ground. I'd say me leg was going like a dog gettin his belly scratched. He was a feckin vision. He was actually beautiful like. Jesus I had to take a step back.

I can't believe he is my boyfriend.

And better yet, he can't believe I am his girlfriend.

Talk about a ride.

Hee hee!

Wednesday 24th Feb

I was barely awake for two minutes when the phone rang. It was the person who works at the front desk telling me a parcel had arrived for me. I ran down there Linford Christie style and there was a big box all for me!

Now lads, I cannot convey to you how much I love post, especially boxes full of lovely stuff. I always write letters home, which is what got me started on this blog; I used to write my sister letters and she used to bring them in to work and read them out. Eventually I started writing the blog, cos me hand was falling off with the demand for letters!

Anyway, back to the parcel. It was a box full of all my favourite stuff from a lovely person who I love. Stir fry sauces, noodles, spice mixes, jellies, malteser bunnies, Glamour mag, but most importantly - and I mean MOST importantly - Kellogg's Crunchy Nut Feast!

I did a little dance.

"We are taking him out to lunch when we get to Dublin," says I to BBB.

"Yes of course, and tell him thanks from me as well, since I'll be eating half of all this."

Silly, silly BBB.

If he thinks so much as one spoonful of them Crunchy Nuts is going to make the journey to his mouth, he is terribly, terribly mistaken.

There will be blood.

Thursday 25th Feb

Thursdays are generally my crazy day where I have to run around like a wild animal between clients, stuffin a focaccia into my face as I run from one appointment to another, but once they are over at half six, I get to go home and fall into a crumpled heap onto the bed/floor/chair as BBB orders me a kebab.

Today was looking to be pretty stressful until my last client of the day cancelled, basically taking all the pressure off because today someone I met on the interweb is coming to meet me in Pavia. Now, now, get yer minds out of the gutter - we met on a translation website, not or anything.

Although, the first time he sent me a private message, the subject line was "Scopriamoci" which generally means "Let's get to know each other", but of course, what with my head being up my arse, I didn't read it properly, so the first time I looked at it I thought it said "Scopiamoci" which means "Let's fuck each other".

Me nerves.

I literally thought that was what it said for about 10 seconds. But then I copped on. Phew!

Anyway in the evening I met Laura and we went back to my place and had dinner and gave each other massages and then baked scones. It makes me laugh, the stuff we do be up to, we are like a pair of lesbanians.

You know, from Lesbania, like.

Friday 26th Feb

Oh dearie me. Today BBB's best friend from home came to visit him for the weekend. But you see I was after telling Laura we could get pished and stay in my gaff in BBB's bed but I forgot his friend would be in there. No bother says I, BBB can sleep in with the friend and Laura can sleep in with me. BBB was not best pleased to hear this, and proceeded to reinforce a cultural stereotype by screaming his head off over nothing.

"Grand, grand," I goes, but only because I know it drives him mad.

"I'm right and that's that!" he goes, slamming the door behind him and goes into his room next door to his friend.

Now bear in mind that (a) BBB has a mouth like a torn bag and (b) the walls are paper thin, so I could hear every word he was saying, bitchin about me to his friend.

"That fucker!" I was thinking, and then it went a bit quiet so I thought they were after lowering their voices so I decided to put me ear against the wall and have a good listen.

Don't you judge me! You'd be doing the very same yourself!

I went to stand up from the desk and as I was doing so I was cocking my head into the desired eavesdropping position when suddenly:


Didn't my fuckin neck seize up! Lads it was agony. It was like one strip of muscle at the back went all hard and was killing me. I actually felt sick like. BBB came in the door then, face like thunder until I was like "BBB! This is not a drill! Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"

"Jesus love!" he goes and runs over to me and starts sticking his finger in the hard bit.


He put me down on the bed then and after a while the muscle relaxed. I really thought I was going to puke.

"You alright girl?" he goes.

"Yeah but I feel sick," I goes.

You were only doing that for the attention," he goes.

"WHAT?!" I goes, "Excuse yourself, I was doing that so I could listen to you through the wall!"



That night myself and Laura got pissed, me on an 89c bottle of prosecco, her taking the high road on a €4 bottle.

Posh bitch.

BBB can't get his head around the fact that we are staying in to get pished.

"In this horrible room?" he goes.

Now lads, the rooms are horrible, but only I may call my room horrible!

"Yes, in this horrible room." I goes.

He doesn't seem to "get" that the rottener the place is where you get drunk, the funnier it is.

When he gets older he'll understand.

Saturday 27th Feb

Meseff and Laura headed to Milan today, then we got pizzas on the way home for us and the two boys and then she headed home and the two boys went out so I gave myself a pedicure in the bidet.

Dear Bidet, I love you. From Jennie.

Sunday 28th Feb

The four of us went back to Milan today for a lurk around. We wanted to climb the Duomo but BBB found a mobile on the train and being the good boy he is, handed it in at the police station at the train station. This took at least half an hour, which made us too late to climb the Duomo.

It is worth keeping in mind that simple tasks in Italy, such as picking one's nose, involve you filling in copious paperwork and paying a fiver for the pleasure. It would leave one to believe that the country is inhabited by idiots, but after thorough inspection, one comes to the conclusion that they are in fact not idiots, they are just Italians.

Anyway then we lurked down the most expensive street in Milan where we were given withering looks by the bouncers on the shop doors and made to feel like riff raff as we walked past the Ferraris and Bentleys parked outside D&G and the like.

Jesus I'd love to be filthy stinkin rich. Filthy with the dirt rich like. D&G and all that shite wouldn't interest me though. I'd be more into a nice house in a nice area of Italy and having Mam and Dad living in the lap of luxury in a granny flat out the back. There would be sausage dogs. And a wet room. And a grand garden out the back.

But above all - there would be brand name cereal!

Oh, and a bidet in every room.


Monday, February 22, 2010

Week Twenty

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

Monday 15th Feb

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

Tuesday 16th Feb

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

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

Ah bollix.

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

Then we had to have a little lie down.

Wednesday 17th Feb

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

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

Thursday 18th Feb

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

Rock and roll!

Friday 21st Feb

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

Today is a good day.

Saturday 20th Feb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday 21st Feb

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

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

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

"Do you get the terrible smell of gas?"

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

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

"It's an electric oven love."

"Oh yeah."

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

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

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

Now lads. Lads.

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

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

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

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

"Love, give it to me."

More frantic tea towel flapping.

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

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

Sigh of relief!

BBB goes into combat mode.

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

"Yes, Commander!"

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

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


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

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

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

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

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Irish Blog Awards - Fair Play to Me!

Oh Jesus!

Me nerves!

Just read a comment from the lovely Niamh on Week Nineteen and nearly fell sideways off the bed!

My blog is nominated for three big fat juicy filthy with the dirt Irish Blog Awards!

Breathe in...breathe out...

Needless to say a bit of wee came out.

And then I did a little dance.

Then I fired up the bidet. Ye know yerselves, lads, the way these things go like.

I want to say a big thank you to all the lovely people who nominated me. Thanks for following my blog lads.

No really, thanks.

Well done to everyone who got nominated, although I hope you are all deported for smuggling Mexicans over the border so that only I may be on the receiving end of an Irish Blog Award.

You heard me.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Week Nineteen

Oh dear. I started off this week floundering in a fog of despair, which lifted gradually as the week wore on. Things actually started looking up...for about five minutes. Then they swiftly looked back down again. D'oh!

Monday 8th Feb

My good friend Siobhan from down Wexico way came over for a few days last Thursday. during that time we partook of various fun activities such as:

And also:

As a result of these activities, I woke up this morning with the worst cold I have ever had in my life. You know what I'm talking about; your head feels like a tonne weight, you have aches and pains all over the gaff - even the hairs on your arms are hurting you. Lads it was terrible. I'd go as far as to say it was touch and go there for a minute!

I lay in bed all day, making the animal noises that I have grown so fond of, then playing Zuma for a considerable amount of time, before going back to making more animal noises.

I was miserable. Beyond that like, I was just worn out. See last week's post for reasons why. I stayed in bed all day and spent the night snotting in BBB's ear. All I can say is thank God he loves me!

Tuesday 9th Feb

Much the same as yesterday, except today I got up once to pee.

Wednesday 10th Feb

Woke up today feeling slightly better. I decided it would do me good to get out of the house and a bit of fresh air so I went to do the shopping with BBB. Of course now, I thought I was in the whole of my health when we went outside, but by the time we had trudged through the snow and I nearly busted me snot 47 times before we even got to the supermarket, I was fading fast. By the time I got home I was like death warmed up. It was back to bed for me!

Speaking of bed now, I think it's time I addressed a very important issue that I know you have all been wondering about: the farting situation. I'm delighted to say that he was the one to break the fart barrier. I would be telling a dirty lie however, if I said that I wasn't far behind him. Not literally at the time he farted, thank God! I mean in general. Here's how it happened:

He was sitting studying at the desk and I was sitting on the bed doing out lesson plans. Total silence as we were both engrossed in our work. The next thing:


We both jumped. We looked at each other in shock and amazement, and as our eyes met:



Well if I didn't piss myself then, I never will. Actually that is inaccurate; I will most likely piss myself laugthing, and in the very near future at that.

"Sorry girl, they just escaped", he goes.

"Nah it's grand", I goes, delirah that he was the one to do it first! Yes boy!

Now I was full sure this would have paved the way for me to fart in his presence, but NO! I don't know what it is, but even if I had a pain in my stomach, I wouldn't be able! Like every night we go to sleep but I wake up every single morning with a cramp in my stomach from holding in all my nocturnal emissions. I mean I am even holdin them in in my sleep! ...most of the time, anyway.

The other night we were asleep right, and now it was the middle of the night. The two of us sleep like two children -arms and legs trun all over the place, contorted into the quarest of positions, so when one of us moves, usually the other one has to as well. He was stirring a bit and it woke me up, not fully awake but just awake enough to feel him puttin his Big Brown hand on the back of my leg, at the top of my thigh just under my arse. I could feel the lovely warmth of his hand through the leg of my jim jams, and it was so lovely and relaxing that...


I was suddenly fully awake. Oh my God! Oh sweet mother of divine mercy! I didn't, did I? Remain calm. Do not move. Maybe he didn't notice. Who the fuck am I kidding - how could he not notice that his wrist gone blown off by an errant fart like? He wrenched his hand off the back of my leg and turned his back to me. Hmmm, he was awake enough to notice that I farted, but still too asleep to call me a dirty bitch or somesuch. Good, good. This is good. He will most likely not remember this in the morning, in which case I am off the hook. We shall have to wait and see.

The next morning he wakes up and turns his Big Brown sleepy head to me and goes

"Mornin love. What's the story on today anyway?"


Thursday 11th Feb

Today I went to work with a big red nose, snot flying everywhere. This particular client is just the sweetest girl ever, and her English is coming on in leaps and bounds. When I had finished, I was walking out and her mother was in the hall and we got to chatting.

"She's great", I was saying, and the next thing the mother goes:

"She missed you terrible when you went back to Ireland for Christmas".

Lads I was touched. I got a big lump in me throat like. Imagine someone missing their teacher over the holidays. Stop, I love her!

Walked around with a big delighted head on me for the rest of the day.

Friday 12th Feb

Valentine's is coming up on Sunday, so I spent the morning making BBB's card while he was in doing an exam.

When he came home I said to him:

"Valentine's day is Sunday now so you'll have to get me a card ok? Just warning you, cos if you don't get me one, I'll probably be upset."

"Oh right, thanks. I'll pick one out tomorrow."

What like? Men are simple creatures. Ask and you shall receive and all that. For my present he got us two tickets home to Ireland for Easter (I'm so excited I can't wait!!!), but everyone knows the card is the best part! Hee hee!

Then I went to work, where the best thing ever in my life happened. Fridays is my favourite client anyway so I was already in a good mood. I plonked my bag on her couch and I was just taking off my coat when she came up behind me and put a bag on the couch.

"That's for you", she said, and she ran off to the kitchen. I opened it and nearly fainted. She was after KNITTING ME A SCARF!!!!

Now lads, I spend my life making things for people who don't even appreciate it, so for someone to actually turn around and repay me the favour - I couldn't cope. I started balling. Because it was bright red. Bright red like, my favourite colour! I was so touched lads. An amazing present like that, and for no reason! There are just no words to explain how much I appreciate it! I'm delighted for the rest of me life! I ran into the kitchen and threw my arms around her, and she squeezed the head off me with the bag of cat food in her hand.

I just loves her so I does! Lads, I must be the best teacher ever!

Saturday 13th Feb

Got up early and went into Laura's so we could go for a jog together. I haven't been to training all week, obviously, what with being on my death bed and all. I was dying for a bit of excercise, not having done any all week, so I was looking forward to a nice slow jog to ease myself back into it. Turns out "ease" didn't even come into it. I felt like I was running up against a brick wall, whilst being made entirely of lead. It was terrible.

After the "jog", we went to the market and got some blood oranges (my absolute favourite) and went back to mine to do a bit of work. And stuff our faces, like. Sometimes these things are necessary.

Valentine's day tomorrow - oooh I'm so excited! BBB was out studying at his friend's house all day today but he was coming home to have dinner with me so I put on a lovely frock and made myelf all lovely and when he came home he was all surprised and delighted and we had a lovely night. Can't wait for tomorrow now! At last my chance to erase the memory of the disaster that was my last Valentine's day in Italy, which you can read about here. This time I was smart! I reminded him with adequate time to purchase a card and flowers.

What could possbily go wrong?

Sunday 14th Feb

Woke up and snuggled into the back of BBB. He woke up:

"Happy Valentine's Day" he goes.

Yes! YES! He remembered! This definitely means something romantic is coming up! I ran over to the desk drawer to get his card and I handed it to him:

"Happy Valentine's day!" I goes, with a huge smile that faded as I watched the blood drain from his face.

"Oh SHIT!" he goes, and covered his face with his hands.

For a split second I thought he was joking but it turns out he wasn't. He forgot to get me a card.

Satisfyingly, I could see that he was DYING inside. He was distraught like. Not as distraught as he's going to be when he opens my card and sees that I spent ages making it just for him, I thought, smugly. He opened it anyway:

" It's brilliant!" he goes, then, "I'm so sorry Love".

And I can see that he's sorry. But he'll never be as sorry as I was just then. I wasn't pissed off or anything; it was an honest mistake and I could see he felt terrible over it. Valentine's is a bit of fun at the end of the day.

I was so disappointed though. Now I know ye all know I'm a big softie anyway so I don't have to explain that to you. This might sound totally naff, but I really wanted a card! Not the card itself or anything, I couldn't give a shite about that! I just wanted something with his handwriting on it, addressed to me. That's all like. A scrap of paper would have done the trick. Because I don't have anything with his handwriting on it. I don't know but I think someone's handwriting is like their essence. I mean you can recognise someone by their handwriting, and that says a lot to me. I think if something is written in handwriting and not in a text or printed that it means so much more. But shur I'm only a big feckin romantic anyway. There's not many of us left around, I am only settin myself up for disappointment really.

Anyway to make it up to me he promised he would make my favourite dinner tonight, so I was looking forward to that.

He went off to his friend's house for lunch anyway and said he wouldn't be long, that he'd be back and he would study in my room. By four o'clock I was wondering where he was. I didn't have any credit to text him though. He came home shortly after that then, but he gave me a kiss and said he had to go back out to study with his friends. Then he asked me to go to the cinema tonight. Yes! He remembered! The cinema is my favourite thing AND I was after asking him could we go and see a particular rosemantic film that I read about in a magazine a few days before. He is redeeming himself!

"What's on?" I asked, playing innocent.

"Paranormal Activity", he goes, "all the lads are coming."

Lads I just can't. I just can't even begin to address this situation. Where to even start? See how I feel about horror pictures here. After much persuasion I reluctantly agreed.

"Thanks for humoring me Love", he goes.

By that point I was just too worn down to even bother puttin up a fight. He went off and I went to bed for the rest of the day.

He came home to make the dinner then, and that's when the real drama began! It started off when he showed flagrant disregard for food safety by touching raw chicken off the vegetables and then it just escalated from there into a screaming match. Bear in mind now it has to be a screaming match to get him to listen to you, because every single thing you say, he just shouts over you how you are wrong and he knows best, even though you have a good 7 years on him. Somehow it ended in him giving me a lecture about how I am always so sad, and how it kills him to see me like this and the only time I am happy is when I write my blog so he thinks I should write a book.

Five minutes later, he was twiddling with my hair and I was snoring into his armpit.

What a fucking week.

Monday, February 8, 2010

This blogger will self destruct in five...four...three...two...oh shit hang on I left the oven on!

Now lads. There comes a time in everyone's life when they hit rock bottom. That time for me is now.

Last night myself and Laura decided to go on a bit of a Nazi-esque fitness regime to turn ourselves into two sleek running machines over the next few weeks. This of course includes a balanced diet blah blah yawn. All well and good, I hear you say. Well we were starting off this morning, and I woke up and had an apple and sat down at my laptop, feeling proud of myself.

Cut to 15 minutes later and I had eaten 2 cakes and 7 Reese's peanut butter cups. Fast forward another few hours and I had a kebab and a can of coke for lunch. In between these food-related activities I lay face down on the bed making whiney animal noises. After the kebab I played Zuma for 4 hours and then lay down and made some more animal noises.

Keeping in mind of course that I have emails to be sending and blogs and articles to be writing.

What the flip is going on eh? I simultaneously feel like running ten miles and sleeping for a week. I just don't know what's up with me at all at all.

Actually I do know what's up with me. I'm fed up! Fed up so I am! Fed up of this being broke lark! Sick to the back teeth of working me arse off and still not havin a pingin rua! Yer man Valentin outside the supermarket has more money than me! Eddie Hobbs my arse - the bastard never even emailed me back. How rude.

I know we are all in the same boat, but we are allowed to be pissed off about it. I'm feckin sick of calculatin me shoppin to the cent as I go around the supermarket and subsequently gettin a dose of SAS as yer wan is beepin through me shoppin at the till. I want to waltz in and throw a rake of shite in the basket and breeze up to the till, not a bother on me.

But you know what I really want? I want clothes! Clothes and shoes and underwear and ridiculously priced stockings and hair flowers and dickie bows. I want to go on me holidays and drink overpriced plonk and eat weeping tiger steak. I want BRAND NAME CEREAL. I'm talking Frosties, Special K and Weetabix instead of Sugar Flakes, Wellness Flakes and Wheat Bisks. Basically I just want to STOP WORRYING ABOUT MONEY.

I mean, I am a lady, I should be thinking about rainbows and puppy dogs and butterflies, not how much I can save versus how much I can spend. Having to think about money non feckin stop is tiring and it's really starting to wear me down.

Morale is low lads. Morale is fuckin low.

Hence the absence of real blog post. Doing that would take up valuable energy that could be used for eating shite.

That's if I could afford to eat shite.

But shur look, at the end of the day I suppose I should just take stock: I have two arms and two legs and I'm healthy and I have a lovely family and lovely friends. My Mammy always says "Your health is your wealth" and she is right.

I still want brand name cereal though.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Week Seventeen

Monday 25th Jan

Lads I feel like I just need to take a moment to extoll the virtues of the bidet. Contrary to popular non-Continental European belief, the bidet is actually your friend. When I first moved into my room here I popped my head round the door of the ensuite to check out the situation and the bidet caught my eye. "Yeah, right", I says to myself. At first. But as time wore on, my cynical glances became more like curious glances - what is this porcelain pretend toilet and how does it wish to serve me?

At first I used it shyly, tentatively using it to soak my feet in ice cold water after a long hot day, but little by little, I got more and more comfortable with it being in my life. What is its purpose? I hear you asking. Well I mean we all know its purpose people so I think you mean to ask what is the point? I decided to investigate by interrogating my lovely friend who shall go without a name for now as people need not know her bidet habits. She helpfully informed me that if she had a shower every second day, for example, then on the days she didnt have the shower she would have a bidet. I probed for more details and she described the fill-and-dip method. Interesting.

This doesn't apply to me as I have 47 showers a day but I am beginning to understand the convenience, nay, delight the bidet could bring into my life. Jacques family Christmas related "mishap"? No problem! Never mind your bottom half shower - just fill and dip! Genius.

The days wore on, and I became more curious with each passing second. Until one evening I came home and I thought "I'd love a nice shower now before I go to bed, but alas I am too tired", and then, as I was brushing my teeth, it caught my eye. It was just sitting there in its spot next to the toilet with a "come hither" air about it. Was it...was it inviting me? Surely it would be rude to refuse...

Five minutes later, I emerged from the en suite, gloriously reborn, bottom-half freshness levels at an all-time high. And so the love affair began...

Want that fresh panty feeling? Forget Bodyform - have a bidet!
Don't have time for a shower? Have a bidet!
Whole family died in a horrific accident leaving you completely alone in the world? No problem - have a bidet!

There now, isn't that better?

Tuesday 26th Jan

I have no recollection of this day whatsoever.

Wednesday 27th Jan

Made two tarts today, one normal apple one and one apple crumble one. The second one I left in the oven for BBB to supervise while I went to training, with strict instructions:

"Take it out when it is golden brown alright? Golden brown now not mahogany, is that clear enough for you? If I come home and that tart is burnt you are DEAD."

But let's leave the tarts for now and take a moment to discuss appropriate sports changing room behaviour.

When you walk into a changing room in Italy, the delicacy of your nature is immediately assaulted by giant hairy fannies all over the gaff. I'm talking jungle hairy. Tribal, even. Not a groomed undercarriage in sight. How distressing. But I digress. What I witnessed tonight was just the most...the most icky ocky thing ever. I have no problem with nudieness in these situations, that is all acceptable. But what I am about to describe actually shocked me to the core.

Now in these dressing room situations nudie chats are the norm. Chit chat, pull someone's three foot long pube out of yer eye, chit chat etc and so on and so forth. But tonight. A girl was chit chatting away and the next thing she pulls down her scanties to down around her knees and proceeds to peel her heavily soiled sanitary towel from the inside of her knickers and roll it up into a sausage while chit chatting away to the girl next to her, who incidentally, didn't bat an eyelid. I couldn't cope. Like I actually couldn't cope. I mean we are all ladies, yes, but there is still the need to be ladylike. No one needs to see that. Ok let's change the subject. Back to the tart.

After training, myself and Laura headed back to my place for tarts. Fnar fnar. Anywho, I came in to see the crumble tart that had been left under BBB's supervision. Lads, I was after terrifying the poor child so much he took it out the minute it started turning brown so it was still considerably raw. Shur God love him.

"It's a bit...." I started.

"You used too much butter" says he.

"Yeah, that's it Love. Too much butter." Nothing to do with the fact that it's still raw like.

Stop, I love him.

Thursday 28th Jan

Giovedì gnocchi. Whipped up another batch of my gnocchi. I am an unstoppable gnocchi-making force.

Friday 29th Jan

Tonight it snowed and made Pavia a Winter Wonderland for a nanosecond. BBB's friend had to stay over cos he couldn't get home in the snow so we had to stay in my bed. This displeased me. We always sleep in BBB's room and I dislike when my routine has been interrupted becase my sleeping patterns are very delicate. While my bed is lovely and lady soft and smells like lavender and chamomile, his bed smells like him. The only way to describe how I feel about his smell is that it's akin to a boo boo blanket you might have had when you were tiny. I realised this when I came home after Christmas and opened the door to his room and his smell just hit me and it made me feel warm and fuzzy and safe and yummy, and a bit like I had to wee a small bit. But that could have been unrelated.

Anyway we snuggled up in my bed, and no matter what way I turned or contorted, I couldn't get comfortable. There was only one thing for it - we were going to have to go top to toe. So I started turning around in the bed.

"Where are you going?" he says.

"Can't sleep up there. Night now."

"Ok night".

But then I realised I had made a major mistake. I had abandoned the end of the bed that had the pillow on it. What to do? I looked around the dark room, and my eyes spied the outline of two of his jumpers. Yes! That's what I'll do! I'll fashion a pillow from his jumpers, that way I have a pillow AND it smells like him. I'm so smart sometimes. But lads, no matter what way I folded the jumpers it felt like I was lying on a sack of spuds. I felt like I was in a tent in France in 1987.

And then the night time crazies began.

Now lads we all know about the night time crazies. They are what happens when you are dying for an aul sleep but something or someone is keeping you from it and in your state of half-awake half-asleep desperation, you actually go a bit mental. I have been known to scream and shout and threaten people with certain death for snoring (sorry Siobhan). Well tonight both BBB and myself were afflicted with it.

He grabbed my feet that were on the pillow and started pulling on them.

"Move up here!" he goes.

"Ok," I goes and went to turn back around so we were both on the same end of the bed.

The next thing:

"I said move your feet up a bit not fucking turn around! Jesus Christ!" he goes.

"Jesus, alright!" I goes and moved back down to the other end of the bed with the makeshift pillow.

Now lads please keep in mind we were both still asleep while this was going on.

"You are driving me fuckin mad moving around every five seconds. Mamma mia!" he spits, full of bile, before planting a little kiss on my instep.

"Do you hear this fella and he bending his legs all over the place and I'm here "bet" up against the wall! Dickhead!" I goes, full of hatred, whilst simultaneously snuggling his foot.

Ah lads.

I loves him so I does.

Saturday 30th Jan

Went for a jaunt around town today with Laura. On the way home we stopped in a shop by her house so I could get my Guarana Antartica fix and while I was there I was scanning the shelves wondering to myself "I wonder if they have..."

"Doce de leite?" the woman said, and pointed to a shelf of jars.

A little bit of wee came out.

Now lads. Doce de leite is the most delicious thing in the face of the earth. It is in the caramel family but it is so much more than caramel. It is just heaven in a jar. Obviously I bought one, knowing full well I would be eating it straight out of the jar with a spoon and washing it down with the Guarana.

At this rate I'll be obese by Tuesday.

Worth it.

Sunday 31st Jan

Today I headed to Milan to see my friend Nami that I used to work with in Dublin. In the end we didn't get to meet up and said we'd meet tomorrow instead so myself and Laura continued on our spot of shopping.

"Can we pop in here a sec and I buy a rake of shite?" I said, pointing to a supermarket.

"Way ahead of you" she goes.

While waiting in the queue, arms laden with shite, a fella walked past me and goes to the fella two people in front of me:

"Do you want a'in else?"

It slid into my ear like treacle. It nourished me like mother's milk: an Irish accent.

Surely I must be mistaken?

"Nah, it's grand," the other fella goes, and turned around in his Republic of Cork hoodie.

I actually felt a bit teary. It's one thing hearing english every now and again; usually in an American or Italian accent, but to hear an Irish accent was so lovely and comforting I couldn't even describe it.

In a good mood then we headed for the train home and I was thinking to myself "On my way home now I'll get a pizza for BBB as a surprise". The poor young fella is stressed, he needs something to go with the cola bottles I got him like. Plus I have a primal need to stuff my face.

Next thing the phone rings as I'm on the train:

"Well Love I'm just gettin you a pizza-what do you want on it?"

The man is a legend.