Just a thought

Who does Joe Duffy (our national radio agony uncle) call when he wants to complain about the state of the hospitals, or the fact that he got knocked down?

Tis like the question asked of Superman - "you got me, but who's got you?"

Poor Joe - not man but Giant, not human but Dancer... it's hard being the one people go to in times of need (I'd imagine)

Bóthair, cailín, áthas, bainne

The aul Irish. We're having a mini seachtain na gaeilge here this week, since himself is having an agallaimh (think that's how it's spelled) as gaeilge later in the week. Speaking in Irish as much as we can. Have to admit it's an interesting experience. Have discovered it's difficult to argue in a language you have little grasp of, and it's almost like meeting the person you're talking to for the first time again. You have to make that much more effort to understand and to be understood. Have to be creative in deciding how to get something across - happy easter became "happy East her", and so on. It leaves less room for being bitchy too, since you have to spend that bit more time thinking about what you're going to say, so you end up actually processing the thoughts a bit more before they get out, so while it's slower, it's slightly more peaceful too, relaxing.

Since we live in Dubland (and I'm sorry if I'm being a big wedding bore here), we're not obliged to go on one of those Premarriage courses, possibly because Dublin people are so good at getting on, but this talking another language thing, I think that it too might save a few marriages, so if you're on the rocks out there, give it a lash, you can thank me later.

Try something new

To the Left.

Everything you own in a box to the left.

Let today be the first day you ever typed your name with every keystroke being just one key too far to the left. Therefore my name ends up being "buNG" because of the shift key being hit in the middle of it all. Not sure what the point of that exercise is... but sure if you wanted to read something with a point to it all you'd be somewhere more serious than this.

hiB, UKWWN, gwkwb, oT, xikn, aquaa, and reuib, I bet you won't be able to resist trying that out!! (she says, imagining she has a lot more readers than there actually are in truth).

Enjoy a fluffy Eggstatic easter sWunday everybody.

Missing Goldy Dress

No wardrobe is complete without 3 gold dresses in my opinion, (at least 2 of which should be bought cheap in a second hand shop) it's like 3 little pigs, 3 blind mice, 3 goldfish, some things just don't work in pairs. So it was with some horror in my dig around for the alternatives to my actual wedding dress that I discovered one of my treasured goldy dresses is missing. The other two are pictured above, but if I'd had the third it'd be so much better, a trio of glitter that'd have the magpies circling, as it was the crows didn't even take a second look.

Anyway as it turns out I don't need em now, the real dress is in, ye can all stop fretting and worrying. Tried it on this morning, and it's not leapord skin, nor is it horrible. Turns out I had some taste last August, as I did the August 5 years before that, when first I spied himself at the bar in Whelan's. So the mild panic is over, I don't need to resort to an alternative - but if I did which would you have voted for? Answer left or right in the comments....

Know your Onions

It's a song by the Shins "Know your Onions", but it's also a very important life lesson; as evidenced by my mistake last summer. We took a notion, myself and Mr VtB, to go a gardenin. We dug the flowerbeds to death, pulling out all the weeds, loosening the muck, and as I thought clearing out those darned weird onions that I kept finding everywhere. Twas only this spring when I saw the first lovely daff's peeking up from the front garden - (which luckily escaped our green fingered escapades) that I realised my mistake. However - Nature is amazing, and these brave little fellar's grew straight out of the wheelbarrow of loose leaves and detritus that just hadn't quite made it into the compost bin. Know your onions - sage advice indeed. Know your sage too - goes lovely with the onions.

All Interested in Politics - no really

It's good - for my momentous 100th post, to have a serious topic I think.

Went to see Ganley v's Rabbitte last night, on the topic of Lisbon. The kids were all there from the colleges, clutching financial times', there were plenty of people who generate newsprint, there was a man in the uniform suit and tie with his heartbeat visible in the tick of his crossed leg while he fiddled with his name tag, there was a swashbuckling cross between the creepy country squire from the fast show, and the host of the Crystal maze, whose hands did very convincing imitations of those last seen in the Godfather movies.
Harry McGee was the chairman, and a very entertaining one he was. I was sitting right behind G, and the mind games started when R got up and crossed over to the podium on our side of the room, rather than using his own side, which had a dodgy mike. Mind games contined with G asking Harry in a commanding tone "How much time have I got?" just when he knew the chairman was about to tip the glass and quietly remind him there was one minute to go in the peroration (new word I learned just then)
G was more up for the debate than R, by a long shot, I had a good view of the notes he was scribbling when R was kicking off, wild scribbles with lots of exclamation marks, terrible handwriting. R seemed tired, when asked to speak up he apologised that he'd been working on other things this week, and his main tactic seemed to be to try and hold onto the ball as long as possible, giving slow, lazy answers to most questions. By the end of it he'd even lost that much interest and gave short lazy answers instead. So that was dissappointing.
G in true hollywood style attempted to drop a clanger. Theatrically describing his dinner last december with Alexandra Vondra, preying on our love of spy movies, when AV told him that the Irish politicians told the Czechs they'd like the Czechs to agree with Lisbon, even though Ireland had said no. He said they were trying to isolate us from the rest of Europe, our very own politicians. A lady who sounded like she'd never usually say such things shouted up "He's only a headbanger anyway" and it did rile the audience a little, but petered out embarrassingly, and to me was the least credible and least interesting part of his whole argument. The audience had some entertaining exchanges among themselves too, like when someone shouted "IT'S A LIE" before G had finished a particular sentance, he was answered with a "WHAT'S A LIE? CAN YOU READ HIS MIND CAN YA?" As far as I know, no blows were exchanged.
Most people paid no heed to R's own clanger - where he was asked by Harry whether a certain argument of his was dishonest, his reply was "Not only is it dishonest, but I reiterate it strongly and with great conviction...." No one seemed to notice, all assuming it was a slip of the tongue, but I think I saw a little glint in his eye - a little honesty slipped in there, for the laugh, to see if anyone copped it, like when you're a teenager and you tell your folks sarcastically "Oh I'm just going out to get rat arsed drunk and probably puke my guts up" - UCG were taping it, they can produce the evidence if it's ever needed.
In the end G looked like the smarter and more interested person, but I do feel like he didn't really have a debate. R's strongest point was that we've been getting more than our fair share and we've to keep doing that - which sounds logical, but also kind of squeamishly immoral and not that nice... I don't know enough to urge you to vote either way, I know you should go see them for yourself, or something...

Do ya Like Tooosdays?

For my upcoming tribute concert to "Republic of Loose" I have 2 songs already prepared.
"I like Muesli" and "I like Toosdays"
They work particularly well on the lines -
What kinda muesli do ya like - do ya like country muesli do ya like lifeforce, do ya like crunchy, do ya like .....etc etc till you get to the line "I like em all with hot sauce and alcohol"
&
I am doin Toosday now

For the Chance to win a Chance to join me on stage for the gala opening number - please submit your idea for the best alternative lyrics to a Republic of Loose song now. Go on... you know you want to

Visit
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNBKaPcHFWM

for inspiration

Mild Panic

I like Dresses, I like Weddings, ipso facto I'm bound to like my "Wedding Dress" amn't I?

Well - I'm not sure, because the nice people in the shop won't let me have it, they keep telling me it's on the way, then the next day they don't answer their phones, or emails.... it was ordered so long ago that I now forget what it was like anyway - so they could probably give me anything at all at this stage, except a leopard print dress, I'm fairly sure it's not leopard print.

I think they think I'm not excited enough about the wedding, (a theory that perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned to them in my latest email to them) and want to give me that extra frission of will it/ won't it ever arrive in time to be refitted and resized to my new svelte figure (I have lost weight since moving job as the new canteen doesn't have croissants, or chips, or anything at all actually). I have a back up plan of course - but not sure whether my "bought by weight" goldy dress will work alright without the customary jeans I usually wear under it ... arrah feck it - twill be grand

Umberella Ella Eile hey heh eh?

"Stand in there you'll be drownded" the claw like hand pulls me in tight to the raincoat, in a panic a car lashes past, the puddle - as predicted - splashes maniacally. I think for a second she only pulled me to her to protect herself. I'm soaked anyway, socks so wet they'll never be dry again.

I want to jump into the puddle, want it to turn out to be a manhole, a wormhole carrying me to a parallel universe. I'm bored standing under the shop cover, sick of the shower, watching the drips.

Water has been around forever, it must be bored too - fall on the street - run into gutter - into the sea and up again, or fall into river, into a tap, loada crap BORING. I spell it out in my head B-O-R-I-N-G. A lady passes with a brolly - with one spoke all bent, a broken spiders leg, like a spoke's gone out of the bike, she's gone in a second.

I want to do singing in the rain, but Granny's Claw is unrelenting, holds on tight, keeping me close to turnipy smells and thinking she's keeping me dry.

Disclaimer: This is a fictional piece inspired by an umbrella at "group" today, my real granny is lovely and doesn't have claw hands, nor does she smell of turnips.

Plastic Bag

The plastic bag almost ruins my hour and a half away from it all. Sitting on the boardwalk, getting a years worth of vitamin D on my hands and face, along it sidles beside me on the bench, sneaky, from a distance, gentle puff by gentle sunny puff of warm breeze encourages it up to me, until it's almost bumped into me, until people will think I own it, I'm with it. But I'm not. I am saved by the idea of pushing it's edges into the cracks on the bench, far enough away from me that I could get up and leave without it, with no shame, and no fear that it would take off into the river and start strangling ducks, enrobe itself around the floating beercans or the tennis ball, no fear that someone would think I left it there. Of course I bring it with me when I leave. Dutifully drop it into the public bin, just seconds behind the man who deposits an empty cider can - he walks on in front of me, two of us dutiful public spirited folk bobbing along the wooden path, warm in the sun, he steps undramatically, matter of factly, around the the large public flower box to have a pee. I don't follow him there, but continue on my journey...