I'm not politically minded really, and I know I should be, especially since I consider myself a responsible adult and like to have my point of view heard and all. But this Lisbon Treaty stuff, it worries me. There's too many of the political parties agreeing to it, which you would think it would make it a good thing and an easy vote choice! But FF and FG are up for it and I don't trust those buggers as far as I can throw them, and I don't even want to pick them up. And it seems to be that only Sinn Fein are calling for a No vote and I really don't trust them at all. Mind you, it doesn't matter what we vote for, if we don't give them the answer they want they'll just hold another referendum until we get it "right".
I just don't like the idea of people I didn't vote for making decisions about my lifestyle that I can't see or control. It makes me very uncomfortable. I know it's all part of us coming together under the EU banner, but I kind of like our individuality and own government policies being Ireland specific and not what worked in Latvia and might work here. I also don't like the fact that our constitution can be turned over by this legislation and it has the potential to destroy our tax system and create an Empire as one politician put it recently. I have a feeling of foreboding about it, and so I'm voting no.
This is, however, no reflection on Lisbon itself, I'm sure it's a very nice place, I might even visit there one day. Hopefully they won't take my rejection of the treaty personally.
On the subject of politics though, isn't Brian Cowan an awful man altogether. I hear he's been cursing his head off in the Dail. I think it's time someone reminded him of where he is, who he is and who he's representing. He put Clara on the map, and now I hope they're hanging their heads in shame with the biffo making a show of himself. Naughty Taoiseach. Shame on you.
God, I'm on a role tonight!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Eurodepression
Ah come on now... What the hell is going on with Europe? It's only gone bloody massive. I blame the fall of the Iron curtain, it's ruined it for the rest of us. I'm talking Eurovision land here. I mean come on, Ireland had to deliberately send crap songs and singers over on the years we didn't want to win, now when we just want to get to the bloody final we have to pull out all the stops and send that whiny git who sings like someone is letting a helium balloon deflate up his ass, can't remember his name, but you know who I mean.
Alright, so sending a turkey was not the best move. But for a country that's won more than our fair share in the past, it was a bit of a cop out. Unless you are a fan, you just don't get Dustin. One of my favourites is when he did Spanish Lady with Ronnie Drew and the Saw Doctors. "Where are you from? Madrid? Can I walk ye home? Ah wait, Lads, the bus is leaving!"
I gave up watching about 15 minutes into the programme, tuned over to BBC to see if Graeme had picked his Nancy yet, and then turned over to see the end of "Britain's got talent". That should really be called "Britain's got talent?".
Mind you, it's better than watching painful RTE. Why do I pay a licence fee? I get this nervous twitch in my eye when I watch the home grown stuff that comes out Donnybrook. The sets are stuck in 1950's all wool and plastic. Ryan Turbridy's set is the most modern and that's a copy of some US talk shows that have all changed now. I took a cringing look at the Late Late last night, there were doing some strange garden party thing. The camera work is appalling. Those fellas haven't a clue, I could do better. They're fine in the studio when it's just Pat and a guest, who don't move and gesticulate very little. Put them in a scenario where they have moving objects and forget it, they are useless. I get vertigo from watching the Toy Show every year. I don't know what they teach them in camera man training school?
"Look lads, all you have to do is point and hold the button in. If they move follow them and if they move quickly pray someone else is ahead of you to take the next shot. Moving in and out for music videos was very popular in 1980's Top of the Pops so lets keep that going, and make sure to get an angle in where you can see up the band's noses, so we can check for drugs, he, he, he. So of you go now, you do Pat Kenny, you two go to Ryan's, you two dossers at the back better do winning streak, here's your Diplomas."
Do you know, I think I've cracked it.... we don't win the Eurovision anymore because our camera men are so crap. Well, that explains a lot, it can't be for any other reason.
Alright, so sending a turkey was not the best move. But for a country that's won more than our fair share in the past, it was a bit of a cop out. Unless you are a fan, you just don't get Dustin. One of my favourites is when he did Spanish Lady with Ronnie Drew and the Saw Doctors. "Where are you from? Madrid? Can I walk ye home? Ah wait, Lads, the bus is leaving!"
I gave up watching about 15 minutes into the programme, tuned over to BBC to see if Graeme had picked his Nancy yet, and then turned over to see the end of "Britain's got talent". That should really be called "Britain's got talent?".
Mind you, it's better than watching painful RTE. Why do I pay a licence fee? I get this nervous twitch in my eye when I watch the home grown stuff that comes out Donnybrook. The sets are stuck in 1950's all wool and plastic. Ryan Turbridy's set is the most modern and that's a copy of some US talk shows that have all changed now. I took a cringing look at the Late Late last night, there were doing some strange garden party thing. The camera work is appalling. Those fellas haven't a clue, I could do better. They're fine in the studio when it's just Pat and a guest, who don't move and gesticulate very little. Put them in a scenario where they have moving objects and forget it, they are useless. I get vertigo from watching the Toy Show every year. I don't know what they teach them in camera man training school?
"Look lads, all you have to do is point and hold the button in. If they move follow them and if they move quickly pray someone else is ahead of you to take the next shot. Moving in and out for music videos was very popular in 1980's Top of the Pops so lets keep that going, and make sure to get an angle in where you can see up the band's noses, so we can check for drugs, he, he, he. So of you go now, you do Pat Kenny, you two go to Ryan's, you two dossers at the back better do winning streak, here's your Diplomas."
Do you know, I think I've cracked it.... we don't win the Eurovision anymore because our camera men are so crap. Well, that explains a lot, it can't be for any other reason.
It's been a long time....
All I can say is, I've been distracted. OOoooOOOH, but it's been a long time. I've had a million and one things happen since January that I could easily have written manuscripts on, but due to an unprecedented workload, I couldn't spare the time to do what was beginning to come naturally. Ah well, hopefully that will change, although no promises are being made, just yet.
I did actually make some new year resolutions. I haven't achieved them all, but it's only May. One of the things I promised myself was I'd try and develop my Irish language skills, which I had thought were poor to say the least, not having spoken the language in about 18 years. So when a group of people from work organised a trip to the Gaelteacht, I was all for it. 22 people agreed that a long weekend immersed in out native language might be the just the thing to get us on the road to bilingualism. It's amazing how enthusiastically wrong people can be after a few glasses of wine and very little food.
Anyway, four weeks later, sobriety well returned and a realistic comprehension of what is involved in relearning a language you haven't spoken for nearly two decades, 6 of us headed of to the arse end of Kerry on what was to be a weekend of learning - but not quite the kind I had imagined.
First of all we had to get there, and being the control freak I am, I happily agreed to drive as did one of the other guys. So I offered a lift to a good friend of mine and the other four, whom we vaguely knew, went off themselves.
Now, my friend, whom I've known for two years, has a bizarre sense of humour and not everyone is on the same wave length as either of us when we get going. We chatted about work for the first hour, and then when all that was out of our system we ranged onto other things, like online dating - she was delving and sharing her experiences to date - yes I am aware of the double entendre there. We started laughing outside Limerick, stopped laughing as we drove through Limerick, as you do, and then started laughing again as soon as we made it safely through to the other side - but that was more a form of hysteria than joviality.
I could write a book on what we discussed. My friend has a unique view on the world and I have to say I enjoy it immensely. For example as we drove down one very long winding road, lit by the moon and my headlights, she was going through a quite phase that I welcomed as it was a tricky traverse. After about 3/4 minutes she says "You know those little lights on the road there?"
"Yeeesss" I said, not really knowing where she was going with this but willing to tag along.
"How do they know when a bulb needs to be changed?"
I paused, waiting for the punchline. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I was just wondering, how did they know where to lay the cables, cause some of these roads are years old, even before electricity. So how do they now when to change a bulb?"
"So, you think there's somebody sitting in a room somewhere and they have a control panel infront of them that says light bulb 3,456,781 is out, send the team out to repair it?" I asked, the tears forming as I tried to hold in the laughter and not crash the car because I had realised she was serious.
"Well yeah"
"They're cats eyes" I wheezed.
"I know what they're called" she said, giving me a withering look.
"Ah will you stop, I can't drive while I'm laughing"
"What do you mean" she demanded.
"They're cats eyes, you know how when a cat looks at you at night the light reflects in their eyes and shines back at you? That's what those are, reflectors." I was trying to look at her and hold back the tears and not crash the car.
As the light dawned inside her spectacular brain and comprehension reflected in her eyes, I nearly collapsed altogether.
Ah, she's fabulous. She's also our company training manager. Some of the other delights of her repartee were, "Did you know all cows are female? Its the bull that's male?" "Look at that cloud, it has all dangly bits on it", "That's a weather front Dee, we're heading into rain." "Yeah right, what makes you so sure?" Splat, splat, splat - windscreen wipers on, "The rain". "OH".
I have an excellent sense of direction. I've driven around Ireland, UK and France without ever getting lost (well except that one time in France when it turned out there had been a crash and the road sign had fallen into a ditch - but that wasn't my fault). Anyway, I trusted the map reading and directions to my mate - before I'd experienced any of the above. So I shouldn't have been too surprised when we ended up with a Garda escort to the hotel. And all this was before dinner on day one.
I could go on, but lets just say I'll never rely on her for directions, weather reports, animal husbandry or technical advice. But she's a great sport, friend and travelling companion. I recommend her to anyone.
The trip, for me anyway, was a great success. I had a better grasp of what was going on than I thought I would. I came back all jazzed up and ready to be ag caint as gailge. But that soon changed.
I'm still not fluent, but I'm a lot happier about it.
Resoulution number 2: Get back into the dating arena.... more to follow.
I did actually make some new year resolutions. I haven't achieved them all, but it's only May. One of the things I promised myself was I'd try and develop my Irish language skills, which I had thought were poor to say the least, not having spoken the language in about 18 years. So when a group of people from work organised a trip to the Gaelteacht, I was all for it. 22 people agreed that a long weekend immersed in out native language might be the just the thing to get us on the road to bilingualism. It's amazing how enthusiastically wrong people can be after a few glasses of wine and very little food.
Anyway, four weeks later, sobriety well returned and a realistic comprehension of what is involved in relearning a language you haven't spoken for nearly two decades, 6 of us headed of to the arse end of Kerry on what was to be a weekend of learning - but not quite the kind I had imagined.
First of all we had to get there, and being the control freak I am, I happily agreed to drive as did one of the other guys. So I offered a lift to a good friend of mine and the other four, whom we vaguely knew, went off themselves.
Now, my friend, whom I've known for two years, has a bizarre sense of humour and not everyone is on the same wave length as either of us when we get going. We chatted about work for the first hour, and then when all that was out of our system we ranged onto other things, like online dating - she was delving and sharing her experiences to date - yes I am aware of the double entendre there. We started laughing outside Limerick, stopped laughing as we drove through Limerick, as you do, and then started laughing again as soon as we made it safely through to the other side - but that was more a form of hysteria than joviality.
I could write a book on what we discussed. My friend has a unique view on the world and I have to say I enjoy it immensely. For example as we drove down one very long winding road, lit by the moon and my headlights, she was going through a quite phase that I welcomed as it was a tricky traverse. After about 3/4 minutes she says "You know those little lights on the road there?"
"Yeeesss" I said, not really knowing where she was going with this but willing to tag along.
"How do they know when a bulb needs to be changed?"
I paused, waiting for the punchline. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I was just wondering, how did they know where to lay the cables, cause some of these roads are years old, even before electricity. So how do they now when to change a bulb?"
"So, you think there's somebody sitting in a room somewhere and they have a control panel infront of them that says light bulb 3,456,781 is out, send the team out to repair it?" I asked, the tears forming as I tried to hold in the laughter and not crash the car because I had realised she was serious.
"Well yeah"
"They're cats eyes" I wheezed.
"I know what they're called" she said, giving me a withering look.
"Ah will you stop, I can't drive while I'm laughing"
"What do you mean" she demanded.
"They're cats eyes, you know how when a cat looks at you at night the light reflects in their eyes and shines back at you? That's what those are, reflectors." I was trying to look at her and hold back the tears and not crash the car.
As the light dawned inside her spectacular brain and comprehension reflected in her eyes, I nearly collapsed altogether.
Ah, she's fabulous. She's also our company training manager. Some of the other delights of her repartee were, "Did you know all cows are female? Its the bull that's male?" "Look at that cloud, it has all dangly bits on it", "That's a weather front Dee, we're heading into rain." "Yeah right, what makes you so sure?" Splat, splat, splat - windscreen wipers on, "The rain". "OH".
I have an excellent sense of direction. I've driven around Ireland, UK and France without ever getting lost (well except that one time in France when it turned out there had been a crash and the road sign had fallen into a ditch - but that wasn't my fault). Anyway, I trusted the map reading and directions to my mate - before I'd experienced any of the above. So I shouldn't have been too surprised when we ended up with a Garda escort to the hotel. And all this was before dinner on day one.
I could go on, but lets just say I'll never rely on her for directions, weather reports, animal husbandry or technical advice. But she's a great sport, friend and travelling companion. I recommend her to anyone.
The trip, for me anyway, was a great success. I had a better grasp of what was going on than I thought I would. I came back all jazzed up and ready to be ag caint as gailge. But that soon changed.
I'm still not fluent, but I'm a lot happier about it.
Resoulution number 2: Get back into the dating arena.... more to follow.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Blog Hopping
Captain Incredible has tagged me with a story, I've updated it and now I have to find someone to tag it onto or it could end up end-less and not in a going on forever type of way, but more a stopping without a proper end kind of way. Senseless, just like the previous sentence.
Anyhoo, here it goes:
Episode V... the plot thickens, but not like soup.
If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.
The story so far:I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)
My first idea was to put the applesauce in the microwave. Hey, I was still tired. Could I scoop some out and put whipped cream on it? No, too solid. Why was it so damn cold in here? I walked over to the thermostat and saw that the heat hadn't clicked on all night and the temperature had dropped substantially overnight. Now, tired and hungry, I opened the access panel on the heater. There's the problem: why was someone cooking a duck in here? (SamuraiFrog)
Despite the frivolity of the situation, there was only one person who could've been cooking it... me. My sleepwalking had returned! The last time it happened, I woke up in a pool of blood and vodka in Stockholm! I ran to the phone to call my therapist, thinking he should be at his office. But the cold forced itself on me, so I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me first. I picked up the phone... but there was no dial tone. I placed it down gently, hearing a click. That's when the front door burst open. (J.D.)
All thought of food instantly vanished at the sight of the intruders. Their waving antennae, cloaked against the eyes of ordinary citizens, were no match for my special abilities, and I instantly recognised the carapace markings of the Xylak sect of the Cult of Makros, the most fearsome of their kind in the sector. That they had come here, now, in daylight, on a Tuesday, before breakfast, could mean only one thing - (Captain Incredible)
(my turn...)
I was in fact still asleep and this dream was rapidly turning into a Freudian nightmare. I tried to pinch myself to wake up, but my hands had turned into lobster claws and the left one, a side I’d always been suspicious of, was pinching a little bit harder than was entirely necessary. The results of which was only likely to be more bruising in the morning rather than a return to consciousness. I tried to step away from the unwelcome guests that I could only imagine were manifestations of the gherkins I’d eaten for supper, but somehow my bunny slippers had come alive and were attempting to do what bunnies do best, or at least, most. Oh, my therapist was going to have a field day with this one. There was only one thing for it… (Ray)
Ummm, I don't really know many bloggers yet, so I'm handing this one back to Captain to pass on in his inimitable style. If he wants to that is...
Bye.
Anyhoo, here it goes:
Episode V... the plot thickens, but not like soup.
If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.
The story so far:I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)
My first idea was to put the applesauce in the microwave. Hey, I was still tired. Could I scoop some out and put whipped cream on it? No, too solid. Why was it so damn cold in here? I walked over to the thermostat and saw that the heat hadn't clicked on all night and the temperature had dropped substantially overnight. Now, tired and hungry, I opened the access panel on the heater. There's the problem: why was someone cooking a duck in here? (SamuraiFrog)
Despite the frivolity of the situation, there was only one person who could've been cooking it... me. My sleepwalking had returned! The last time it happened, I woke up in a pool of blood and vodka in Stockholm! I ran to the phone to call my therapist, thinking he should be at his office. But the cold forced itself on me, so I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me first. I picked up the phone... but there was no dial tone. I placed it down gently, hearing a click. That's when the front door burst open. (J.D.)
All thought of food instantly vanished at the sight of the intruders. Their waving antennae, cloaked against the eyes of ordinary citizens, were no match for my special abilities, and I instantly recognised the carapace markings of the Xylak sect of the Cult of Makros, the most fearsome of their kind in the sector. That they had come here, now, in daylight, on a Tuesday, before breakfast, could mean only one thing - (Captain Incredible)
(my turn...)
I was in fact still asleep and this dream was rapidly turning into a Freudian nightmare. I tried to pinch myself to wake up, but my hands had turned into lobster claws and the left one, a side I’d always been suspicious of, was pinching a little bit harder than was entirely necessary. The results of which was only likely to be more bruising in the morning rather than a return to consciousness. I tried to step away from the unwelcome guests that I could only imagine were manifestations of the gherkins I’d eaten for supper, but somehow my bunny slippers had come alive and were attempting to do what bunnies do best, or at least, most. Oh, my therapist was going to have a field day with this one. There was only one thing for it… (Ray)
Ummm, I don't really know many bloggers yet, so I'm handing this one back to Captain to pass on in his inimitable style. If he wants to that is...
Bye.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
It's Christmas!
Merry Christmas! And a very happy, successful, prosperous, peaceful, New Year for 2008.
I know I've been off air for a while, that not only because I can't get my nasty new anti-virus software to work, (un-be-fucking-lievable or what!) but because I've moved house, got a new job, went to Euro Disney with 17 relatives and friends and wrote the Nativity Play for my local church. In between all that, I shopped, went to my first black tie Christmas party in the Burlo, and did a million and one other life involving things that meant when I finally got home of an evening, despite not having any broadband in the new house, I was, as they say, a variety of "Knackered" that is the envy of insomniacs worldwide.
But, and I can't stress this enough, I've had one of the best Christmas Holidays of my life. I enlisted the help of the most wonderful brother in the world to solve a little Christmas dilemma for me and he came through with such incredible flying colours that he made me cry with utter joy at his unfailing stupendousness. If ever a sister had a brother who was super, and if that brother wanted to know how much his sister thought of him, she would hope that if he read this he would know that he's the sun, moon and stars, and not only on Neptune. And if that doesn't make sense to you it's because you're not my brother.
Anyhoo, it's been a fab month altogether and in all the excitement, I even got to let off a bit of steam on one of those so called "Religious" blogs that was blasting the new movie "The Golden Compass" as a blasphemous slur on God yada yada yada, but as they hadn't seen the movie or read the book they wanted to make their readers know to stay away from such filth.
I ask you! What kind of muppets carry on like that in this day in age. A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing, that is why I never perform open heart surgery just because I've seen it done a couple of times on St Elsewhere, ER, Casualty and the Discovery Channel. I know my limitations. So it was like an enormous exhalation of relief to give them a piece of my mind. I didn't hear back from them, funnily enough. Ah well. Obviously not up to a bit of intellectual bashing themselves. I have read the book. I suppose that helped my case. And I suppose telling them they were akin to religious fanatics and witch-hunters of the 16th and 17th centuries didn't help either.
Ahh, it's good to be back!
Look out for upcoming New Year's Resolutions, they're going to be fun!
Happy times people.
R.
I know I've been off air for a while, that not only because I can't get my nasty new anti-virus software to work, (un-be-fucking-lievable or what!) but because I've moved house, got a new job, went to Euro Disney with 17 relatives and friends and wrote the Nativity Play for my local church. In between all that, I shopped, went to my first black tie Christmas party in the Burlo, and did a million and one other life involving things that meant when I finally got home of an evening, despite not having any broadband in the new house, I was, as they say, a variety of "Knackered" that is the envy of insomniacs worldwide.
But, and I can't stress this enough, I've had one of the best Christmas Holidays of my life. I enlisted the help of the most wonderful brother in the world to solve a little Christmas dilemma for me and he came through with such incredible flying colours that he made me cry with utter joy at his unfailing stupendousness. If ever a sister had a brother who was super, and if that brother wanted to know how much his sister thought of him, she would hope that if he read this he would know that he's the sun, moon and stars, and not only on Neptune. And if that doesn't make sense to you it's because you're not my brother.
Anyhoo, it's been a fab month altogether and in all the excitement, I even got to let off a bit of steam on one of those so called "Religious" blogs that was blasting the new movie "The Golden Compass" as a blasphemous slur on God yada yada yada, but as they hadn't seen the movie or read the book they wanted to make their readers know to stay away from such filth.
I ask you! What kind of muppets carry on like that in this day in age. A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing, that is why I never perform open heart surgery just because I've seen it done a couple of times on St Elsewhere, ER, Casualty and the Discovery Channel. I know my limitations. So it was like an enormous exhalation of relief to give them a piece of my mind. I didn't hear back from them, funnily enough. Ah well. Obviously not up to a bit of intellectual bashing themselves. I have read the book. I suppose that helped my case. And I suppose telling them they were akin to religious fanatics and witch-hunters of the 16th and 17th centuries didn't help either.
Ahh, it's good to be back!
Look out for upcoming New Year's Resolutions, they're going to be fun!
Happy times people.
R.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Sad and Blue
I'm sad and blue. My Computer died. It was just after I was mean about Martin the motorbike (wannabe) mechanic. There I was, minding my own business, unusually enough, and just after I'd posted the letter to the insurance company (see previous blog), I decided to install some new and up-to-date anti-virus software onto my PC and it stopped working. WOoooOooOooOoh, Karma or what? He was mean to me, I ratted him out and now I think I've just has a cosmic slap on the wrist. Not just a little bit freaky if you ask me.
Things aren't as bad as they seem though. I haven't actually lost any data or anything, it's all safe. Very safe. The new anti-virus software has decided I might be a possible risk and won't let me access it. Who am I to judge though, apparently my software knows better. In a cunning twist of fate, I can access only the folder containing the information I use for the church meetings I go to. Isn't that weird? It's like it knows.... "The God stuff is ok - keep her away from the rest"
Like many bloggers, I think I'm a frustrated writer so obviously my own PC has decided to be my first major critic.
I feel at this point that I need to refer back to the "God stuff" statement. I am involved in a children's liturgy group and have been for several years now. It's a lot of fun actually and were coming into one of the best seasons for having a bit of fun with the kids. As you might know I have a darker side to my sense of humour, and it can express itself in many different and interesting ways. One of my favorite things is when writing the Nativity Play each year I find the kid with the biggest lisp and give them the line with "Frankincense" in it to say: "I brought the Frankincense. What is Frankincense? Does anyone know what to do with Frankincense? What the baby Jesus going to do with Frankincense?" etc. It's lovely watching them spit all over the other kids.
Last week we had the story of a tax collector who's name I can't spell, who wanted to see Jesus coming down the street but was vertically challenged and couldn't see over the crowds. I was telling the kids this story and I asked them what did they think he did next? A little boy in the front row shyly raised his hand, his chubby little freckled face looking up at me with all innocence and his legs swinging madly under the chair. I smiled and invited him to answer.In all seriousness he stood up, took a deep breath and said "He shot them". It was very had to keep a straight face, but I told him no, he just climbed a tree. Freckles wasn't impressed. Another one lost to damnation! Ah well, we're Catholics, surely there'll be another couple of kids along shortly, we'll work on them instead.
In case you wondered, I didn't get to dress up at Hallow'en. I was asked not to by my son. It seems mothers with lisps, limps, lurches and lumps are not acceptable companions for under 11's . Fine. Whatever. Like I care.
Happy times people.
R.
Things aren't as bad as they seem though. I haven't actually lost any data or anything, it's all safe. Very safe. The new anti-virus software has decided I might be a possible risk and won't let me access it. Who am I to judge though, apparently my software knows better. In a cunning twist of fate, I can access only the folder containing the information I use for the church meetings I go to. Isn't that weird? It's like it knows.... "The God stuff is ok - keep her away from the rest"
Like many bloggers, I think I'm a frustrated writer so obviously my own PC has decided to be my first major critic.
I feel at this point that I need to refer back to the "God stuff" statement. I am involved in a children's liturgy group and have been for several years now. It's a lot of fun actually and were coming into one of the best seasons for having a bit of fun with the kids. As you might know I have a darker side to my sense of humour, and it can express itself in many different and interesting ways. One of my favorite things is when writing the Nativity Play each year I find the kid with the biggest lisp and give them the line with "Frankincense" in it to say: "I brought the Frankincense. What is Frankincense? Does anyone know what to do with Frankincense? What the baby Jesus going to do with Frankincense?" etc. It's lovely watching them spit all over the other kids.
Last week we had the story of a tax collector who's name I can't spell, who wanted to see Jesus coming down the street but was vertically challenged and couldn't see over the crowds. I was telling the kids this story and I asked them what did they think he did next? A little boy in the front row shyly raised his hand, his chubby little freckled face looking up at me with all innocence and his legs swinging madly under the chair. I smiled and invited him to answer.In all seriousness he stood up, took a deep breath and said "He shot them". It was very had to keep a straight face, but I told him no, he just climbed a tree. Freckles wasn't impressed. Another one lost to damnation! Ah well, we're Catholics, surely there'll be another couple of kids along shortly, we'll work on them instead.
In case you wondered, I didn't get to dress up at Hallow'en. I was asked not to by my son. It seems mothers with lisps, limps, lurches and lumps are not acceptable companions for under 11's . Fine. Whatever. Like I care.
Happy times people.
R.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
On the up.
I've been in a downward decline of late, but now I'm on the up again and am feeling quite warm and fluffy again towards mankind. I go through phases of up-ness and down dooby do down down-ness. And although neither state become intense to the point of psychosis or bi-polarism, it certainly makes living with me an extreme sport at times.
I feel a warm kind of fuzziness right now that would enable me to forgive the most annoying driver who isn't me.
The irony that my feelings of wanting to give the world a great big hug, just at a time when I'm enabling my son to dress up as the Grim Reaper and allowing him to go forth and reap as much sugar as he can from participating neighbours, has not escaped me. Ah, Hallow'en, that time of embracing the darker side of human nature and spiritualism. Always gives me a little glow it does. To decorate our family home with ghouls and ghosties and spiders, that at any other time of the year we'd move hell and high water to get rid of. When we sit around telling scary stories and watching horror films to frighten multiple varieties of crap out of ourselves before overdosing on the cheaper selection of our kids haul, which as all parents know, the cheaper the sweet the higher the sugar content. Bring it on!
Then those who can, go off to the pub and do the adult version of Trick or Treat, while those who can't, stay home and try not to drown the neighbours kid when he's bobbing for apples because you still haven't forgiven the little shit for putting his football through the Rhododendrons. Good times. Good times.
I love Hallow'en. I still dress up with the kids. Last year I was a witch, much to the delight of all the little witches who came to the door. There was that memorable year when I was an Igor-esque hunchback. I'm considering reprising the role for this festive season. It's hard to get the limp, lisp and lump correctly balanced. Too much lisp and they can't understand you. Too much limp and you loose your lump. In-fact, it's more a lurch than a limp. Step and then drag that damn almost dead and useless leg behind you - kinda thing.
I also get to indulge another guilty pleasure. I love to watch Most Haunted. Live. I am very sceptical of a lot that goes on. Especially if it involves Carl and Stu. Every time they go "Live" something attacks one or both of them and Stu declares he's leaving and never coming back, until the next show that is. Carl is always coming over all funny and being possessed. I know the feeling, but I don't get paid for it. No wait, apparently I do now. That's why they've made me a manager in work! It all makes sense now.
It is amusing though when Yvette gets frustrated and starts demanding of the "Astrals" that they throw things at her or one of the crew. I'll tell you this, when I'm dead I'm going looking for them. I swear to God I'll be a great ghost. I'm going to go around scaring the hell out of film crews investigating life after death. I bet that never gets old. "Is there anybody there? One knock for yes and two knocks for no". As soon as I figure out how to throw things with my ghostly mind it'll be one chair flung at them for yes and two for "maybe", just to piss them off.
By the way, for anyone who's wondering about Martin the questionable Mechanic from last week's blog, in an unusual move I decided not to pursue the complaint to the insurance company. I decided that he's probably his own worst enemy and in a gesture of attempting to hold out the olive branch to the universe on his behalf I did not make the phone call.
However. They sent me several forms begging me to give my valued opinion on how the service went and after careful consideration I felt it was my duty to give them what they wanted. My opinion. I couldn't help myself.
So Martin, where ever you are. I hope you believe in Karma as much as I do. Because something big and juicy is about to bite you in the ass.
Love to you all my darlings, and have a wonderful Hallow'en.
R.
I feel a warm kind of fuzziness right now that would enable me to forgive the most annoying driver who isn't me.
The irony that my feelings of wanting to give the world a great big hug, just at a time when I'm enabling my son to dress up as the Grim Reaper and allowing him to go forth and reap as much sugar as he can from participating neighbours, has not escaped me. Ah, Hallow'en, that time of embracing the darker side of human nature and spiritualism. Always gives me a little glow it does. To decorate our family home with ghouls and ghosties and spiders, that at any other time of the year we'd move hell and high water to get rid of. When we sit around telling scary stories and watching horror films to frighten multiple varieties of crap out of ourselves before overdosing on the cheaper selection of our kids haul, which as all parents know, the cheaper the sweet the higher the sugar content. Bring it on!
Then those who can, go off to the pub and do the adult version of Trick or Treat, while those who can't, stay home and try not to drown the neighbours kid when he's bobbing for apples because you still haven't forgiven the little shit for putting his football through the Rhododendrons. Good times. Good times.
I love Hallow'en. I still dress up with the kids. Last year I was a witch, much to the delight of all the little witches who came to the door. There was that memorable year when I was an Igor-esque hunchback. I'm considering reprising the role for this festive season. It's hard to get the limp, lisp and lump correctly balanced. Too much lisp and they can't understand you. Too much limp and you loose your lump. In-fact, it's more a lurch than a limp. Step and then drag that damn almost dead and useless leg behind you - kinda thing.
I also get to indulge another guilty pleasure. I love to watch Most Haunted. Live. I am very sceptical of a lot that goes on. Especially if it involves Carl and Stu. Every time they go "Live" something attacks one or both of them and Stu declares he's leaving and never coming back, until the next show that is. Carl is always coming over all funny and being possessed. I know the feeling, but I don't get paid for it. No wait, apparently I do now. That's why they've made me a manager in work! It all makes sense now.
It is amusing though when Yvette gets frustrated and starts demanding of the "Astrals" that they throw things at her or one of the crew. I'll tell you this, when I'm dead I'm going looking for them. I swear to God I'll be a great ghost. I'm going to go around scaring the hell out of film crews investigating life after death. I bet that never gets old. "Is there anybody there? One knock for yes and two knocks for no". As soon as I figure out how to throw things with my ghostly mind it'll be one chair flung at them for yes and two for "maybe", just to piss them off.
By the way, for anyone who's wondering about Martin the questionable Mechanic from last week's blog, in an unusual move I decided not to pursue the complaint to the insurance company. I decided that he's probably his own worst enemy and in a gesture of attempting to hold out the olive branch to the universe on his behalf I did not make the phone call.
However. They sent me several forms begging me to give my valued opinion on how the service went and after careful consideration I felt it was my duty to give them what they wanted. My opinion. I couldn't help myself.
So Martin, where ever you are. I hope you believe in Karma as much as I do. Because something big and juicy is about to bite you in the ass.
Love to you all my darlings, and have a wonderful Hallow'en.
R.
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