"I've had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane!"

I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown...
All thanks to the roomie... combined with a massive PMS...

Yesterday was bailinho day, as we normally do every Saturday night. Afterwards Posytifka. I just couldn't do it. I stayed at home.
I had done a bailinho the day before, when we went out with Kasia and Jarek, our Polish "friends" in Krakow (at least the only ones who actually call us). Patricia and Kasia had arranged to meet and I was demanded to join them by Patricia. Kasia brought Jarek along, you know, the one that is gay and still doesn't know it. We went to this place near Rynek to have a pint and afterwards we would go out dancing. Patricia's face was depressing. Hey, I was the one who couldn't speak Polish and I was trying to have a good time. Jarek speaks English so I had to talk to him all night. I must say that he's not a person who's got the most interesting stories to tell, but fuck it! At least, as I mentioned before, they're the only ones who took the time out their lives to call us. Patricia kept saying all the time that she was hating all that and wanted to go home. I pretended not to listen.

We switched bars and finally found one to stay and have a pint. The previous two ones were not convenient, as in one we had to pay to enter and the other demanded ID, which Kasia didn't have on her.

Anyway, we got there, drank, they even played Guns (Sweet Child o' Mine) and I was having a great time. But after that they started playing Polish songs, which I'm fine with. Patricia kept repeating as if she was chanting:
"I hate Polish music, I hate Polish music, I hate Polish music"
I suggested her to go get herself a vodca with orange juice, which she did but than the complaint changed to:
"They charged me 10 zl for this, they charged me 10 zl for this, they charged me 10 zl for this"
Fuck's sake, man!

Around 1am we went home. I stopped at an off-licence for Tatras, you know, the cheap beer for bailinho. We got home, Patricia and I talked a little and she went to sleep and I carried on the bailinho until 6am or something.

Next day I was awoken by this terrible music. I must add that I haven't been able to sleep for a week because the alarm on the door keeps making this terribly annoying sound every ten seconds, which stops me getting some sleep. She decided to clean the house but instead of putting the radio in the kitchen she left it in her room, which is across from mine. But OK. I woke up, went to the kitchen and tried to prepare lunch, which was impossible because she was "sorting things out". All dishes and knives and forks were in different places... It started getting on my nerves.

I prepared lunch and stayed in the kitchen watching my Foo Fighters DVDs. Both Hyde Park gig and Acoustic. It kinda cheered me up a little but not enough to go on to do bailinho. I stayed in my room while they did it (they invited Tomek, a friend of Junior's) and kept coming for my CDs. They went out afterwards and this morning Patricia told me that it wasn't fun at all, only the bailinho.
"Fernanda, we missed you there because you're 'the queen of bailinhos'..."
Queen of the fucking highway if I could...

Yeah, I guess when it becomes routine it is like this. I think that's why I'm never getting married...