A Holiday, You Say?

Just back from 4 days in Pavia with my mudder. How did this come to be, I hear you asking? Let us sift backwards through the sands of time...to last Tuesday fortnight.

Ok let me set the scene.....(dreamy harp music)

It's the afternoon and I'm in the kitchen with the baby. Mammy walks in.

Mammy: Well, I have a proposition for you.
Jen: What is it?
Mam: Will you go away with me somewhere?
Jen: What?
Mam: I really want to go away somewhere will you take me to Italy?
Jen: I don't think so Mam, I don't have long left at home like, and I want to stay here.
Mam: (dramatic injured face) oh....ok......
Jen: (winces as a giant pang of guilt stabs her in the heart) I mean I'm leaving anyway so I dont want to go anywhere, plus I have no money (pleased with her iron-clad excuse)
Mam: Well we can go to Pavia, we can see what it's like - I'll pay for everything!
Jen: (backed into a corner) Yeah ok.

So I mean it goes without saying I love my mudder to bits, I'd do anything for her etc etc, so one might deduce that I would enjoy spending time with her. Of course I would. In theory. In practice, however......

But shur look, I says to myself, it'll be grand. I don't really want to go because I don't have long left at home and I want to spend it with the baby, but Mammy really wants a holiday so I just think what harm shur, it'll be grand, and after all, she is paying for it....

Fast forward to a week later, and I'm pushing the buggy up the road with Mammy in tow.
"Jennie," she says.

"Yeah?"

"You know that holiday we're going on nect week?"

"Yeah?"

"That's your Christmas present, ok?"


Me nerves.

So anyway the deed has been done and I'm back now. 5 days and nights of undiluted Mammy. Now I love her, but ANYONE would wreck your head after that amount of time. We had a laugh alright, particularly when she was asleep and I put my foot on her face and she told me to "fuck off you dirty bitch", but even the little things she was doing were starting to get to me, like never walking next to me, choosing instead to walk 10 paces behind me at all times, like an Iraqi wife, as my sister would say. Not to mention that after she snoring the night away, I turn over like a delicate princess and she tells me to "stop horsing around in the bed". Horsing around in the bed. WTF like. I mean, nigga please! Of course now I was probably wreckin her head even more cos I was a ball of stress for the whole holiday, thinkin of all the things I had to do when I got home and the NO time I had to do them in!

And I warned her that from the second we got off the plane everyone would be staring at us. "I won't mind them - I'll just smile at them" she said, ire-givingly. Well we got off the plane and of course, everyone's eyes were out on stalks staring at our other-worldly beauty. "Jesus Christ", she says, "you'd swear we had two heads." Well I wasn't going to be the one to tell her that yes, we did, in fact, have two heads between us.

Mammies lads, what are they like? And shur what would we be like without them? Shur God love them like, they're only small.

EDIT: Lads, in the end I was SO glad I went over with Mammy! It was great to know exactly what I was doing and where I was going when I got over here on my own with all my baggage. And shur now I'm over here and I have all my friends but there's no one as good as your Mammy now is there? I love you Mammy!

A Good Omen

You know I've really been shitting it lately about heading off again into the unknown. Will I be lonely? God, I really don't want to be lonely. And if I do get lonely, I hope someone would come along and make sure I was never lonely or hungry again, not unlike the little kitten without a left foot:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfRFASfNggo&NR=1

Anyway, just as I was freaking myself out mulling over these negative aspects and not focusing on the positive ones, not realizing that certain situations change, that people move on and certain situations get left behind and wondering if I'd feel much happier if I went with the flow, or if growth and transformation were a big feature for me right now, I happened upon my horoscope for the week:

Instead of mulling over negative aspects, it's important to focus on the positive ones. It's a fact that situations change, people move on and certain things get left behind, but if you can be flexible and go with the flow, you'd feel much happier. Growth and transformation is a big feature for you right now.

So now - the Gospel according to Celebs on Sunday. My troubles are over!

To catalyze this growth and transformation, I have decided to load up my laptop with all new music from bands I have never heard of and would otherwise probably have dismissed had my mind not been blown wide open by the advent of the cosmic intermingling of the stars dismissing all my demons.

That's right people; new adventure, new soundtrack. What I want from you lovely people is some gentle guidance. Kindly grace me with your suggestions as to what avenues I should be fumbling blindly down. My mind is musically malleable and I am open to all suggestions - all I ask is that you be gentle with me.

Week Nineteen

Saturday 17th May

Receive a text message from Lurk Eile saying "one month from today" and go about yet another day of intense studying with a happy heart, knowing that this torture will be over shortly and I'll be cycling on my bicycle in the lovely French sunshine in just a few short weeks.


Sunday 18th May

I'm on FIRE today! Get up and scrub the bathroom, the kitchen and all the floors, have a shower and luxuriate over applying body lotion to my creamy white bod, before finally sitting down at my computer to tackle the small matter of the ten page essay (in italian, mind) that has to be written before tomorrow. And all this by 9am. I am so on top of my shit. Except the ten page essay like. Usually when I have to do literary commentaries I simply read ten other commentaries on the same work which I plucked from the internet and then proceed to write my one. In English. But this time I don't have the internet. Just my brain, a giant dictionary, and a bag of yoghurt chupa chups.

Spend most of the morning and early afternoon preparing the structure of the commentary with my hand permanently flicking through my dictionary (best sixty euro I ever spent, by the way. If you're reading this, dictionary - I love you!) before finally giving in to the fact that I was going to have to go downtown and buy another edition of the book I was analyzing. Steal into the kitchen with the stealth of a ninja, rob a battery out of the DVD remote control (I know like, I'm 23 years old) and grin gleefully at my own cunningness as I slip it into my mp3 player and hit the road. Hotfoot it into town, really enjoying the head-clearing effect the walk is having on me, and bag a new copy of Il Principe for a bargainous 5 euro and 35 cent. I could feel the warmth of Eddie's pride upon me! Head home triumphant, as it starts to piss down rain; big fat hot droplets bucketing down, it was lovely.

Get in the front door, dripping wet and swiftly slip into my home casual look. Sit down with my new book, all giddy and sit down at my desk. Engrossed in my work, but in the back of my head I could hear something, like when youre in a dream and there is someone calling you in the real world, and I come out of The Zone and open the window to look across the courtyard to the neighbours balcony, on which are standing a large number of drunken Indians with a karaoke machine. I return to my desk and am treated to such karaoke classics as Simon & Garfunkel's "The Boxer", Hotel California and, how could I forget to mention? - the international hit song "Words" (the Boyzone version, natch). Laugh my head off in between bouts of serious translation, and I am so absorbed in it that I don't notice that it is suddenly midnight and Roommate wants to go to bed so I relocate myself into the kitchen, where I hit a proverbial wall and can't seem to focus my thoughts. Luckily though, I found the answer in the bottom of a bowl of Coco Pops and by 1.30am I was finished. At this point I reflect with wonder on the unbelievable feat I have just accomplished. In the past, when I let things pile up on me, I have totally freaked out and spent feverish all-nighters trying to climb out of the yawning chasm of a hole I have dug for myself, but this time I was completely calm and collected and I just blitzed it. With sexy results.

Monday 19th May

Get ready to go to Fran's and just as I am putting on my boots Roommate says something about the shit depressing weather. "Why?" I said, "Is it raining?" and just as she is about to answer a huge clap of thunder sounds and rolls on for about 5 seconds. Still had to head out though, and battled on into town through the shit weather and torrential rain. Got to Fran's in one piece where I fixed up my essay on her laptop. Then had to run into uni and register myself for the exam for the following day. It'd be handy, like, to register. My emotionally exhausted mindset simply couldnt possibly handle a task like this all on it's own so I take Captain America as a wingman. Walking up the stairs in uni he starts digging for dirt on myself and Husband, asking me what our deal is. Cunningliy avoid the question (I am so devious) and nearly jump out of my skin when he puts his hand on my back. Nyyyyyyeaaaaargh! What to do in this situation? Ignore the problem and it will go away! Nope, it's not going away. Speed up to ninety but he speeds up too. Shit! Then - a stroke of genius! I bend down to tie my shoelace - and find I am wearing leather boots. He cops on, I am mortified, the rest of the mission is carried out in silence. Head back to Fran's, where I pull an all-nighter before the exam.

The hours in which one pulls an all-nighter are the loneliest hours in the world. Everyone else in the house was a-haboo babby bunty and I was sitting up reading Petrarch and Pirandello. Some laugh. The only thing keeping me going was the sound of Captain America's little blonde american man-breaths. Studied up a storm though, got loads done and felt pretty good about it. About 5.30 I stopped and numbed my brain with a few games of online Mahjong Master. About 6.30am head home to my own place to have a shower and get changed.

Tuesday 20th May

Got in the door at 7am, had a speed shower, and was running back out by 8am. Got to the exam for 9 am, so basically just had to wait my turn outside the door, DREADING IT. Not because I was nervous in case I didn't do well, but because of the sheer hideousness that is contained within the face of the professor, specifically in the mouth region. His mouth is a yawning chasm of nausea-inducing disgustingness. And there is no ignoring it, either. You're talking to him and you're like "ok I will NOT look at his mouth, I will NOT look at his mouth", but then his mouth seems to have a beacon-like draw on your atttention. That, and the fact that the stench if his breath is most likely melting your septum. And it's not just his mouth that stinks, lord no! He hasn't changed his clothes in eons and has most likely slept in them since 1972. Now here's a fun fact about me - bad personal hygiene is one of my top hates in life. I ABHOR it. With a side-serving of detestation. I am completely DISGUSTED by people who don't wash themselves/their teeth/their clothes/their (most likely rooted out of Michael Guiney's) bedlinen. I mean how hard is it to take a bit of pride in yourself? Have a wash like. And change your (crusty) scunders. Please. Anyway his mouth is the most disgusting entity I have ever encountered in my life. It looks like something that crawled out of his arse and settled in his face. His lips are ringed with white crust, with copious saliva gathered at both sides, which flies at you when he speaks. His teeth are as brown as the quay river, and 72 times more likely to give you tetanus. His tongue is a yellow coated nightmare. And his breath. HIS BREATH. You can almost SEE the stench. I can't even go on. I can't like. Let's skip to Wednesday.

Wednesday 21st May

Kicked back after yesterday's ordeal and bought myself a Marie Claire for being such a brave girl. Couldn't eat my cereal though, cos halfway through the image of his crusty mouth entered my mind and I felt like I was eating a bowl of mouth crust and that was the end of that.

Thursday 22nd May
Even more kick-backage today. I totally deserve it after the copious amount of study I've been doing and need to rejuvenate for the copious amount of study that is yet to come.

Friday 23rd May

Take my laptop down to Sala Borsa today and sit on the floor for three hours mooching off their internet, taking care of some important business. Such as the last series of scrubs, for example. It's a hard life.

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.

Bollix.

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.

Shit.

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:

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.

Pros
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!