Week Twenty Two

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

Monday 1st March

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

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

"No you put them on the other shelf."

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

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

I gave her the laser death stare.

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

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

No like, just no.

Tuesday 2nd March

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will I stop?", I usually answer.

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

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

This pleases me.

Wednesday 3rd March

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

Drrrrrrrrring! Drrrrrrrring!

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

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

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

It's still tender.

Thursday 4th March

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

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

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

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

Friday 5th March

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

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

A distinct squashing noise could be heard.

"Get. Up. Now."

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

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

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

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

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

Om nom nom.

Saturday 6th March

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

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

Actually that's a lie. I totally would.

Sunday 7th March

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

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

BBB came back from Switzerland around 9.

"Jesus I missed you!" he goes.

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

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

"I kept it for you."

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

It's good to be queen.

Week Twenty

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

Monday 15th Feb

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

Tuesday 16th Feb

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

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

Ah bollix.

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

Then we had to have a little lie down.

Wednesday 17th Feb

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

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

Thursday 18th Feb

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

Rock and roll!

Friday 21st Feb

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

Today is a good day.

Saturday 20th Feb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday 21st Feb

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

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

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

"Do you get the terrible smell of gas?"

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

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

"It's an electric oven love."

"Oh yeah."

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

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

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

Now lads. Lads.

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

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

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

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

"Love, give it to me."

More frantic tea towel flapping.

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

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

Sigh of relief!

BBB goes into combat mode.

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

"Yes, Commander!"

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

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

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

Week Two

Week Two

Author’s Note: Some dialogue has been translated from the original Italian into Waterfordian by the author.

Monday 12^th Oct

Woke up just before 6 to go for a run on the new route that I felt out (with my face) yesterday. Now at home I usually go at 7 before anyone else is up so I can have the world to myself, but I said I’d go that bit earlier over here seeing as that everyone gets up that bit earlier.

Well I went out the front door and you’d swear it was 3 o’ clock of a Saturday. Everyone was in full swing! Sickener. Anyway I was jogging along minding my own business when the elastic in my hair snapped. Grand I says and I just ran on, hair streaming out behind me in two flaxen curtains, or so I was imagining at least. Well it certainly must have looked inviting because I had to stop at a red man and then an old perv came along and put his hand up to my head and ran his fingers through my hair. What can I say only GAWD! I had no choice but to run on, mostly because the skin on my scalp had crawled off my head and was peggin it up the road ahead of me!

That evening I went to start training for the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, namely ROWING! I had a look at the map and it’s not too far away. Great I says and I start off.

You know when you move to a different country, it is pretty hard to get everything right all the time. Some things have to be learned and don’t come naturally, like, for example, the whole kissing people on greeting them thing. Well I walked in the door right into the middle of a huge circle of lads. The trainer turned around and says “well girl!” to the girl in front of me, and shakes her hand and kisses her cheeks. Then he turns to me and says “well girl!” so I said to myself, ok just do what the other girl did. So I leaned in for the kiss and…DENIED. I had me lips puckered and all, eyes half closed like when someone takes a picture of you when you’re in the horrors. I almost DIED. The feeling of awkwardness was PALPABLE. Oh GAWD. I have no idea what happened for the rest of the night because I think I blacked out with the mortification.

Tuesday 13^th Oct

A pretty uneventful day, except that I was crossing the road, on a zebra crossing, ie playing chicken with oncoming cars, when two fellas in a mini nearly knocked me down. The car skidded to a halt inches away from me and a fella crossing the road towards me from the opposite side shouted at the fellas in the car “it’s a sin to kill an angel!”. You can’t beat it can you lads.

Last night’s embarrassing kissing incident is playing on my mind. Every few minutes I think of it and it causes me a physical pain. It reminds me of a time in Lush with a customer (all my fellow Lush employees are laughing already because they know what I am going to say) that is almost as embarrassing but the kissing thing is more embarrassing solely because it involved kissing. A woman of about 60 came in to the shop and she had on the same gold converse as I had, except mine were the real deal and hers were knock offs. I touched my toe to hers and I said “you have good taste in shoes” or something. Then we were chatting and I asked “where did you get those shoes?” and she said “Dunnes” and I said “Goway” and she put her hand up in a high five motion and made a face like “give me some skin sistren I got me some badass muthafuckin shoes” so I went to give her a hearty high five just as she said “Five euro”. That’s right folks - she wasn’t putting her hand up to give me a high five, she was merely putting up her five fingers to demonstrate how much she paid for the shoes. But at this point it was too late, my hand was mid-air and travelling at speed so I had to finish the most awkward high five in the history of mankind. Oh God, lets just move on to Wednesday.

Wednesday 14^th Oct

Still haven’t quite gotten over the kissing thing, but have to go to training tonight so I try (and fail) to put it at the back of my mind. Walk in the door, head down, and just shout Ciao! and go to leg it up the stairs, but am met with a chorus of Ciao! and then the trainer pops his head out of the office door and says Ciao, Jenny-fare! as if he is genuinely happy to see me. He remembered my name and everything. Usally “Biondina” (little blonde) is the best I get, but this made me feel good. Clearly the whole thing has blown over. So I go for my run and do my time on the machines and then I hop into the boat and grab the oars. Rowing away anyway and the trainer is like ok stop there lads and then he is walking next to me and he looks down to check my form and the next thing his face cracks into a huge smile and he goes “oh my God what size are your feet?” I’m like 36 and he goes “awwwwww, you’ve got the tiniest little feet, hahahha! Lads look at jenny-fare’s feet, hahaha, they are so small” and then passing lads are like “hahaha you are so tiny look at your feet”. It reminded me of the time Noel Langford measured his hand against my foot. Yes, the hand was bigger. Considerably.

Anyway then I am rowing away and I start to think about the kissing thing and I become mortified and I lose my whole rhythm and then he comes over and says here let me show you. “Show me what?” I am thinking and the next thing he has his hands on mine and is rowing with me, going back and forth with me. Well lads. It would have been a sexy moment out of a Hollywood picture if my top wasn’t stuck to me and there wasn’t sweat dripping off my chin. I can’t even function I’m trying to hold the laughing in so hard. All the while he’s there in my ear “brava, brava, jenny-fare”. I’m laughing even typing this. And this is totally normal everyday behavior over here like. If that happened in Ireland we’d have to get married afterward. Oh lads, stop the lights like. I don’t be able.

Thursday 15^th Oct

I’ve really outdone myself this time. This is a week for embarrassing moments. I ran down to the supermarket at the last minute for a few bottles of water. It’s not the one I usually go to because it’s horrible in there and there is a total sleazebag workin in there. Anyway I had to lean over him to grab a packet of rubber gloves and he turns around, literally inches from me and gives me the sleaziest, filthiest look up and down, Basically he raped me with his eyes. I was in a pretty good mood, but just the way he did it, made me lose it. And here is where the horror began.

Let me just educate you fine people for a second. The Italian word for tit is tetta. The Italian word for head is testa. These two words are very easy to get mixed up. So I said to him “why the fuck does everyone look at me like that – as if I had two tits?” You know the way everyone else only has one like. Well he burst out fuckin laughing and I nearly fainted in horror. I had to go through the checkout then and yer wan on the till was pissin herself. I am NEVER going in there again. I would rather die of thirst.

Friday 16^th Oct

This morning I got up early because I had to go into town to do a few things. When I left the room there was a cleaning trolley on the landing and the cleaning lady was in the kitchen. I walked past and said hello on my way out, and there followed an exchange that really pissed me off.

So the normal text is what we really said, and the italics is what we were thinking.

Cleaning lady: Hey, young wan!

Jen: Yes? (you ignorant bitch)

CL: Are you new here? (I am enthralled by your other-worldly beauty)

J: I am.

CL: Well clean the hob after yourself, you are so dirty it’s disgusting.

J: EX-CUUUUUUUUSE ME? (Why I oughtta...! *Inwardly shakes fist)

CL: Clean up after yourself, I am not a slave.

J: Don’t speak to me like that. I am not a child. And I didn’t make that mess – how could I when there is no pan to use? (Must get a lend of them Deirdre Barlows off ya girl – for Saturday night like)

CL: I don’t care who did it – I’m not cleaning this again. (It’s not my job to clean things –I am a cleaning lady – not a ….oh wait)

J: Well I care if you speak to me like that (yeh bibe, yeh)

CL: Sorry this just annoys me. Please tell your friends to clean the hob after themselves. ( I am so morto right now, clearly I have met my match)

J: Tell them yourself. Bye. (Victorious – to the tune of Notorious)

CL: Goodbye, Miss.

Well I was raging. And her trying to make up for it at the end then. Knobend. I saw her two more times that day too. Each time she flashed me a “winning smile”. I would have smiled back, were I not distracted by her Nora Battys.

Training again tonight. Nice rigorous workout. Come home and catch a glimpse of the bod – transformations are taking place. 2 more weeks and I’ll be RIPPED.

Saturday 17^th Oct

On my out to the vending machine this morning I met the same cleaning lady AGAIN on the path. She put her hand up to her chest and said “nice tits”. I just don’t know lads.

Sunday 18^th Oct

Well I was too lazy to go to the supermarket yesterday so I decided to go today, when it would be nice and quiet like last Sunday. Also, I have no food so it is probably best that I go today. Head down, and the whole place is shuttered up. WTF? It was open last Sunday and the Sunday before! Head back to the room to do a stocktake. A tin of tuna and a pound of grapes. Ok, I can work with this. I better watch True Blood all day though. To conserve energy stores like.