are you lost little girl?

So last night I am at a bar and there are these two Italian guys trying to pick up me and Malou. They are pouring the delicious wine, they are making the necessary small talk and they are asking me the dreaded: so what do you do? And I have to reply nothing because that is the truth. I do nothing. What do you want to do then? I have no idea!! Seriously! What do I want to do? I am going to be 25 in a month and I am unemployed and as directionless as ever. It was supposed to be better here, but it is so much worse. I am overstimulated and completely underwhelming. In fact, I deem my current status so decidedly UNfabulous that I am postponing my birthday until I can see a marked improvement. That's it! For the first time in history I have decided not to get older. Just for a little while. Just until things get better. And they will get better, right? Right?

The plus side is that I might be back in BC very soon. I mean, I have nothing else to do. And I miss my Mom! It's only a vacation, but H. is already worried that I won't return. I think I will. I hope I will. I want to make this work, but I am living off of Monsieur Visa and he can be quite temperamental. Can I afford to go? Can I afford to stay? If I were not this confused all the time then who would I be?

And if I do decide to turn 25, all I want for my birthday is my friends.

sigh double sigh

still unemployed...i apply for (no joke) five jobs a day and it is not getting me anywhere. plus, my friends no longer update their blogs and they have stopped e-mailing me. why god??? why????

it's colder in there

things have gone from bad to worse for poor the poor t-willy house. how is this even possible??? you might be asking yourself. i don't even know, man. it's not good. the other jenny hates me with a murderous passion that would be admirable if it were not so terrifying. and i threw a proper blind rage of my own, one that leaves my other blind rages only to stare in awe and wonder. i had to be restrained!
i write this to my friends because you are the only people who know that i would never go after the boyfriend of my friend, especially when said boyfriend is 5'2, 75 lbs. and has nauseating facial hair. give me some credit!
the problem is that jenny is willing to blame me for the entire thing because i did not scream loud enough and i did not fight him hard enough. although she admits that she heard something odd that made her enter the room, she claims it was my moans of passion! ugh, just writing that makes me throw up in my mouth. grrrrrrrr. writing this is making the rage boil up again, i must stop.
i miss you all, my friends, so much. i am very upset about everything that is happening here and i want to come home. i want to go to my mom's house and hide out in bed for a few weeks, at least. and i wish to castrate that creepy little fuck, hector. do not let this be a blemish on my permanent record, i promise that all of your lovers will be safe from my whorish ways even though my mother never taught me morals.
heart.

Tom Williams House takes the show on the road!!

So I am relaxing in France for all of 24 hours when Elie calls and tells us that he will be joining us in the countryside. He was invited for two days...he stayed for four. This means that four of the six Tom Williams House inhabitants are now staying together in a house smaller than said flat. This means that poor moi is now drowning in a sea of French as Elie brought his impossibly cute girlfriend (daughter? cousin?) along and she does not speak a word of the English.
However, it takes more than a bunch of slurring Frenchies to get me down, as you well know. I persevered! I drank a lot! I spoke their "language" when necessary. Mathieu (intellectual Melgaard) came for a visit (in his porsche, no less) and I completely understood as he explained to the table that only whores turn him on. Salut hamcake!
On December 30, Elie (forever a soldier) insisted on us going deep into the woods, lighting a bonfire (despite the freezing rain that fell ALL DAY), drinking hot wine and singing from his Foreign Legion songbook. The 15 litres of boiling wine, mixed with a generous helping of rum and one kilo of sugar helped make this experience as joyous as Elie had imagined it. We sang our little hearts out and when they asked me to serenade them en anglais, I did not disappoint. Unfortunately, my repetoire of songs I know by heart is limited to: Duke of Earl, I Will Follow Him, Leader of the Pack, Jeremiah was a Bullfrog and some song about asking Daisy to marry (Daisy Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you...) Apparently I have not learned a new song since 1997. It was all I could do not to bust into some Little Mermaid.
Anyways, I am home now and happy to be back in London, less then thrilled to be back in the flat (and by less than thrilled, I mean crushingly depressed). H's papa is here and F's girlfriend is homeless and apparently staying with us. I am unemployed and with nowhere to go and J, my lone female friend, is furiously angry with me over an altercation on Christmas that involved her boyfriend. I did one too many shots of Christmas cheer, passed out in her room (the party was raging on in my room) and woke up with her slime-weasel/pervert/fuckhead boyfriend trying to take my pants off. If this attempted molestation was not bad enough, she then walked in and now seems to think that I was trying to seduce him. Seriously! My life has become a bad after-school drama because he is a fucking creep. So my time at Tom Williams House might be coming to an end...I hope. Happy new year. Keep you posted.
Love,
your favorite hamcake.