Tuesday, December 20, 2011

My Father the D.I.Y. wonder....

My Da really is quite the superhero. Apart from taking control of a farm and his mother at the age of 19, after his father died, he is quite the accomplished carpenter despite having had no training. He's inventive, original and really quite a genius with some of the things he comes up with to make, or the designs he creates.

He's also an absolute idiot sometimes.

Remember that nursery rhyme about the old woman who lived in a shoe? Well a few years ago I was like her. ....Except old..ugh..I hate old people... ...oh, and except for the children.. I just had an awful lot of books.. Like, a serious amount of books.. Like I was drowning in a sea of books. They were filling up my desk and my locker and starting to take over my floor..I'm pretty sure I could've built furniture out of the amount of books I had, had I not been blessed with actual furniture. Anyway, basically I got fed up of wading through mountains of books to get into bed at night, so I asked my da to build me a set of bookshelves. Now I was very specific with what I wanted coz he's good and all that, and he has great ideas, and no doubt his own idea would've been awesome..but I had an idea in my head and that was what I wanted, so he was given his orders.

A few days later, I took an overnight trip to Dublin for a sexy teaparty.. disaster of a teaparty, I got sick, there was no tea or party...that's another story.. anyway, while I was gone my da decided to build my bookshelves and have them ready for when I got home the next day. So he squirreled himself away up in my room with his timber and his tools and put together this amazing bookshelf, just like I wanted, with varying sizes of shelves and stuff, and he fixed it in the corner and varnished it up and varnished it to the wall, and he was dead proud of himself and decided to go fetch my sister and let her admire his handiwork and shower him in praise. So the younger sister goes up and has a look and thought it was class except...

> "Da...you realise her poster's still on the wall, right?"

Yes. My father, DIY wonder, had not seen the MASSIVE POSTER OF DEATH ON A HORSE WITH A SCYTHE that was stuck to the wall in the corner where he had built the bookshelves. And varnished them in place. And the fact that a) there was no back on these shelves and so you could see most of the poster still through the shelves, and b) there was a good few inches of poster still sticking out on one side of the bookshelves meant there was no way that we could just hope it would go unseen.

Of course, the auld lad is totally unphased by this, in fact he finds it mildly humorous.

> "It's grand, I can take it down now sure"

No. No you can't. Because you stuck a set of shelves to it. And varnished it to the wall.

Eventually he realises that he is not going to be able to remove the poster, so he turns to my sister again.

> "Well....does she like the poster?"

> "Yeah, it's her favourite poster!" (It was at the time, stop judging it was a few years ago...and it was awesome....)

No doubt imagining himself to be the smartest bollix that ever walked the planet, the auld lad pauses for a minute for dramatic effect, and then says in a pleased tone, as if he's done me a favour.

> "Sure that's grand so.. She'll have it forever now!"

....you can't argue with the mans logic.

Friday, August 5, 2011

If you like your cats, make sure they don't shelter in the car engine in the winter...

We used to attract stray cats...but no more... alas, whatever kind of beacon our house gave out that said, hey there, we have dogs, but why dont any kind of raggedy cats that feel like making their way down, setting up home and expecting us to feed them, feel free! We're an animal rescue centre!!! seems to have disappeared. And by alas, I mean thank fuck..

Don't get me wrong. I like cats. In fact when I grow old, I'm going to be a cat woman. And I don't mean the cartoon sense of the term. I mean, I'm going to be a mad bag of a woman who sits on her porch in her rocking chair surrounded by her cats which are half dead and mouldy looking, shouting at the children and hitting people with her walking stick. When I die, surrounded by my cats, they're going to eat me, coz all cats want is to be fed and petted and once that dries up, bang, they don't care anymore. No loyalties, cats. And if they see food, they're gonna eat it, and when I'm dead that's what I'll be to them- just another meal. I'm okay with that. Going back to nature and all that.

When I was younger I loved cats as well. Had a pet one. Called it Treasure. (yeh, even as a kid I was fascinated by pirates) It died. Kind of like all of our cats. Not that they were all called treasure. Just that they all died. Or ran away... But that was cool. I lived on a farm, we had cattle, calves died all the time. And dogs, the dogs died too after an average of 3 years. And rats. The dogs killed the rats, sometimes rat poison did it either, but they ended up in the yard dead either way, so we saw an awful lot of dead animals and pets as kids. But I'm getting off topic. I think the reason that we no longer attract stray cats was one incident about 4 years ago......

My younger sister had a cat called Mittens. She loved Mittens, with its little white feet and its cute little face. But one cold winters weekend, she couldn't find Mittens, and by Monday morning, when it was time to go to school, she still couldn't find Mittens. However, they had to go to school, so herself and the younger brother got in the car, and Da started the engine and started to reverse out the drive and then the engine sputtered and died, out of nowhere. And he tried to turn it on a few times and it still wouldn't turn on, so eventually, he opened the bonnet....and after a minute or two, he called to my sister....

> I found Mittens!!

And my sister was delighted for a brief minute until my father started pointing and continued,

> There he is...and there...and there's another bit of him..and another bit over there...

The cat had sheltered in the engine where it was nice and warm. Unfortunately, the engine turning on and chopping him to bits was not something he had bargained on. The sister did not feel like looking. 

I think there must have been something in the air since then. A sense of foreboding or something...something that told cats, stay away, this is not a safe place for you to be. There are no cats left at the farm. Don't get me wrong. I still like cats. I still might be an old cat woman in the future, but in the meantime it saves a lot on cat food..

Small boys don't believe in animal rights. Throw basketballs at their faces.

Small boys are easily entertained. Small boys like to poke shit with sticks. If the shit moves, then it's an even better game. And if the shit happens to be a living animal, then it's the best toy in the world. Small boys don't care whether the animal wants to play with them or not. They definitely do not care whether the animal is enjoying the game or not. They just see something interesting and want to play. Playing with cats really isn't a big step up from shit to a small boy. And my older brother, as a small boy, decided he wanted to play with the cat one day. 

So he picks Tiger, the cat, up....by the tail. Obviously she doesn't really like it, and tries to get away, jumping back onto the ground. But of course, he finds this fun! Because he was a little boy and cats were strange animals to him. Any little animal wriggling around and trying to scratch him was a great toy to play with. And so he ignores the scratching claws and the angry noises the cat was making. 
Once the cat was back on the ground, he proceeded to keep letting the cat run on and then pulling it back by the tail...sort of like how a cat would play with a mouse, except he wasn't eventually going to eat the cat...I hope...in retrospect, that may have been his ultimate intention....
He ignored the fact that the cat doesn't like it. He also ignored the lesson that my sister was trying to give him about treating cats nicely and how it wasn't nice to hurt them because cats had feelings too, as well as the advice she tried to give him on how to hold them properly. Small boys don't like lessons and they don't like advice. Especially when that advice interferes directly with whatever game it is they're trying to play. 

So the brother kept up his game, teasing the cat with freedom and then taking it away until, Eventually, the cat managed to get under a trailer, hopefully (for it) to safety. 

Unfortunately, that wasn't happening. One minute all I could see was that he was reaching under the trailer for the cat, the next minute the sister was screaming
> stop!! stop it!! you're hurting it!! let go!!

while my brother gleefully pulled the cat out from under the trailer by the tail and proceeded to drag it around and around the shed, also by the tail. My sister kept trying to get him away from the cat which just made the game more exciting and the more she screamed the better the game became.

Eventually the cat got bored and scratched him and he got bored and gave up the game.

Don't feel too outraged at the boy. Small boys don't believe that animals have rights or feelings. They don't see that animals aren't their toys. In my brothers case apparently he didn't even see that his siblings had rights or feelings. He treated us all like his toys. Once he bribed me with cheese-strings to stay outside and play in the dark, when I wanted to go in coz it was cold.. Dammit, he knew I loved the orange and white cheese-strings. So he kept one in his pocket one evening and gave me pieces of it every so often for as long as I stayed outside.. what a bollix... Small boys are crafty. And that's why I didn't feel bad when a smaller me threw a basketball at his already broken nose (from his football training earlier that day) when I got angry at him and made his nose worse.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

CastlePalooza: Hullabalooza!!!!!

For those of you who don't know...which to be fair I'm going to assume is just about all of you, CastlePalooza is an annual small indie music festival in Charleville Castle, Tullamore...Offaly...I can't make it any clearer than that...I can't even give directions to my own house..honestly, Google Maps would be a better friend to you here than I would...

This year, my good friend A, who happens to be from Tullamore convinced me to come along as well and seeing as how it was only 59euro for a 3-Day Early Bird ticket (yeh I know it sounds like I'm just plugging the shite out of this, but seriously, it's a deadly deal for what you get out of it- i.e. a fucking awesome time!!!) I of course agreed, fully up for going..but also kinda knowing that since it IS me, the chances were I was never gonna get round to actually booking my ticket.... unfortunately (or fortunately as the case turned out to be..) my good friend A knows me better than to take my word for it that I'm going to do anything on my own, so instead, she waited until I was totally drunk off my mind on Mango Vodka one night (BAD IDEA coz it turns out I'm mildly allergic to mangoes and I drank more than a mild amount of the vodka- sick as a dog the next day..yuck) but anyway, once she had achieved her fiendish aims of getting me polluted, she asked me very casually, while on the internet, what my bank card details and email address was and I being a total and utter fool, as I always am when drinking gave her every single detail she needed. 5 mins later, BINGO she announces, you're going to CastlePalooza! And we all cheered. And then I promptly blocked it out of my mind overnight. The next day while we discussed our previous nights activities, amidst the 'do you remember doing this?' and the 'remember doing that?' she asks, 
>do you remember giving me all your bank details so I could book your C.P. ticket?

I did not. I also did not eat properly that week because I had spent the majority of my money for the week on that ticket.... suffering for our follies...

Anywho, months later and some more of my friends were also going, but as it turned out A couldn't make it... strange life....instead, I shifted one of her friends on the last night there. He's a nice boy. Why not... I felt it made up for not getting to see her there after all that...in a small way at least.

Arrived with no credit so no way to contact the friends, including the one i was sharing a tent with so instead i wandered lonely as a cretin til i found them...or they found me really.. and the games began!! Not wanting to be a boring swine so:

Friday night:
Arrived, set up camp, snuck in a shnaaakey hip flask stuck down me top in the auld bra, coz I'm a classy girl like that... it was a metal hip flask and i forgot to blow in it to warm it before it went in....cooooold boobies.. but anyway, i drank that and one of the cheapest offy drinks we could get in there....Stoya Beer...it tastes like piss... i mean seriously, dont ever ever drink it. Rave tent that night. Frickin AWESOME!

Hungover as an upside-down clothesline.. was not feeling the May West, so instead I went back to bed for most of the day and then later got up, avoided the remnants of Stoya coz even the smell of it was making me gag and we went for a tour of the castle and played BINGOOOOOOO..but I didn't win and that made me a bit peeved coz I hate to lose..not that I'm a child or immature or anything..no scratch the last one, but I just love winning.
The fine beer of the night was Herberflergunsbergbalag...it wasn't but I never could remember the name of the beer, even when the can was right in front of me..altho I'm not sure if that's coz I was too drunk to see it, or too drunk to remember what it was called. Either way, it was a step up from Stoya and it did not taste like piss. I got my hair pulled and ruffled coz it's curly and people like to do that for some reason... Bands on the stage, disco in the tent as well as some impromptu volleyball/football/throw-around with a burst beach ball we found.

Had to go home in the afternoon for a session, coz this summer meself and the brother and a few others play a session in one of the local pubs every Sunday evening for free pints. YUM, pre-drinking done, methinks.. but anyway, this week they were celebrating 23 years open so it'd be rude to miss it..altho I did only get one pint in me before I left and went back to the festival for a really really weird night..

First off I brought facepaints back with me so it was bound to be a random night and we played drinking games so that was all good craic! Then for the disco tent, bands, disco tent. Shifted my friends friend, yeehaw, all havin the craic BUT THEN i got lost..i dont know how..dunno how i got separated from all the friends but i did and ended up in the disco tent on my own where a young lad decided to dance with me and i was like oh no dont shift me, coz y'know, thats usually why young lads wanna dance in the disco tent, but apparently i was getting a little vain! A little toooo big for my boots, ya know, coz he didnt. The little bollix.
He had a girlfriend, he told me that when i was hesitant to dance with him. And then i spent aaages with him, and he was one of the volunteers so i got to go back to the crew area and get some free beer and meet some more people whose names i hadnt a hope in hell of remembering coz i was fucked as befucked. Wandered again with him and we met some more people, talked some more shite. And then I got lost again haha.

...And realised that somewhere along my merry adventure I had lost my bag.

A quite sobering thought. Considering that not only had it got my lovely filched rain poncho (a friend had a spare one...NOT ANY MORE!!!) but it also had my wallet and my passport- seeing as how, since the robbery that's my only form of I.D. Ooopsy daisy...mommy and daddy weren't going to be impressed... I know!!!

Drunk me can't find my phone..in fact, I don't think she even looked...so naturally assumes said phone is in the bag along with everything else. This is not going to be good...or easy to explain... so Drunk me decides to ring my phone and that'll lead me to the phone and the bag.
I rang the phone for 5 whole minutes before I realised that I was ringing the phone...with my phone... Fail.

Drunk me thinks. I'll retrace my footsteps and find it no problemo. However, half way along retracing my footsteps I realised I had actually got absolutely no idea where the fuck i had been before that or which direction we'd come from or if i could even recognise the areas if i saw them! But i was determined!!! So an hour later when I retreated to my tent (which i found no bother for some strange reason) it was a shameful retreat.....and a 7am one at that...

Up at 2pm coz we were packin up. Lost and Found tent had already been packed up and was gone. Packed bag. Went to the portaloo and puked my guts up....seexxyyyy i know ;) went back to the friends, got on the shuttlebus, got off the shuttlebus before it even left so I could get sick again in the grass right in front of the wall round the castle and the festival.. sexxyyyy and classy, once again, i know ;) but the bouncers were sound and one brought me over a bottle of water, and the bus man was sound and let one of the friends off to stay with me and was really sympathetic. Either the bus man or the bouncer radioed  the next bus coming and told them i was to be let on coz all my friends were gone on ahead and i had gotten out to puke, so that was sound coz he let us on straight away even though the bus was pretty full by the time it got to us and warned us a dozen times not to puke on the bus coz he'd no problem stopping so i could get out and puke but he also had no problem handing me an 80euro fine if i did it on his bus. He was funny tho and sound so it was all in good humour.. but deadly serious ha.

Directed my friend who was driving to my house and none of them could believe people actually lived down roads as narrow as mine. Grass growing up the middle of the road and all...and every time we turned off onto another road that was smaller than the last they all went, what the fuck? are you sure you know where we are? are you sure we're not lost?? So for a while i told them we were just to get them all tense and worried, til they almost turned around and i had to tell them the truth.

Slept the rest of Sunday. Felt sick Monday. Felt sick Tuesday. Today is Wednesday. Feel kinda dodgy still... but fuck it, CastlePalooza fucking rules!! Totally worth a 3-day hangover...and to top it all off....

I have now just popped my festival cherry- with my first time ever going to a music festival. Viva la looza.... that sounds wrong...i mean it as in castlepalooza..not like..a loser... THE END!!!!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

'You sound loike yo're from Landan!!!!'

Also called:

'Things I learned on my trip to London.'


  • Journey's Hostel London Bridge= Winning!!!!
  • In contrast to what the sister would have me believe- the Tower of London has NEVER had a zoo at it!!!..let me explain... I'm a gullible person. She tells me lies that I usually believe off the bat. An example of this is that she once told me that the colour red gave you cancer and I believed it for ages. This was last year..... Anyway, we were walking past this billboard advertising the Tower of London and the last picture had a lion standing in front of the Tower, so I was like, 

> Why is there a lion standing in front of the Tower of London???
Tweedle-Dee > Coz there used to be a zoo there for the prisoners!
Me> oh mad, seriously???
Tweedle-Dee *bursts into laughter* > NO!!!!!!!
.........what a bitch.............

  • The Monument is a beast. You'll feel good that you did it but bygod you won't enjoy doing it.....
  • Camden is a fun place...but also kinda scary...be prepared to have people throw themselves at you to make you buy things......
  • The Tube is anonymous..... you can almost imagine whats going through peoples heads on board: don't look them in the eyes, dont look them in the eyes... so obviously you should stare everyone out of it and make them feel horrendously uncomfortable.
  • Euston Station has some fabulous places to eat AND it has an awesome sweet shop!!!
  • Sherlock Holmes Museum is cooooool!
  • Don't go to the 'Dirt' Exhibition...just don't....
  • Don't rail and sail if you get seasick and haven't taken anything for it....it's a bad idea.
Food and drink
  • Cinnamon Vodka gives me horrible hangovers but it tastes so damn good!!!
  • Fish and chips!! It's England! It has to be done!!!
  • There's a cupcake shop at the Baker Street Station.....and they look awesome...
  • Blackberry and Lavender tea is a fantastic fucking hangover cure!!!!!!!!!!
  • Don't eat so much you feel like you're going to vomit on your new Aussie friends when you're heading up to bed.
  • Barmen over there do not like when you tell them you love them or propose marriage to them. It must be that English gentlemanly shyness or something...Do they still have that??
  • People like Irish accents and sometime treat you like zoo freaks making you say different words and letters coz they sound funny in your accent....
Australians (yeah they get their own section coz they're so awesome and I learned so much bout them!!!!!!!!)
  • Australian people are the friendliest people in the world!!!!
  • Aussies don't say Throw another shrimp on the barbie!!! (yeah I was shocked too!!) In fact they call shrimp 'prawns' and don't barbecue them!!! They also don't say Flaming Mongrels and rarely say Strewth! Oh Home and Away, you've given me such false expectations....
  • Not all Aussies surf!!!! (heartbreaking...I know..)
  • Australian guys do actually own tshirts, and they even wear them on a daily basis. The even wear jumpers... Yeh. It's not all constant six-packs and tans. Although hopefully that was as a result of the colder climate and they go around topless at home...
  • ...wait does that mean not all Aussies have six-packs????!!!!!! I don't even wanna know...
  • Australians do not ride Kangaroos like horses. Now obviously I knew that one, but apparently one of the lads got asked that by an American girl. He was amused greatly.
  • Aussies find the Irish accent funny. Pot? Kettle?? Ha
  • I'm going to marry an Australian. Just because. ...All Australians out there- beware. You have been forewarned. It's time to brush up on those Hide and Seek skills.....

Monday, May 9, 2011

My body is not a nesting ground.

There's nothing like that awkward moment where you think you might be pregnant, is there?

Honestly. Doesn't it just warm you up inside??? ...or is that a fertilised egg taking hold in your woman parts....you really can't know for certain, can you?? Til of course you either miss the Red Invasion or you don't that month....

I'm not a mothering person. I don't like children. I don't like old people either to be honest, but i most definitely do not like children. I don't know if I can ever stress that enough. Especially the small ones. You know the ones at that stage where there either fresh or they're only comin up to your hip or something. I don't know what it is about them, but whenever I see their smiling little faces I just wanna grab them by the heads and smash 'em into a wall......or throw them off a bridge.... I'm not the kind of person who wants to get knocked up any time soon. I'm not the kind of girl who dreams about becoming a mother and is on the prowl with her latching claws out, just looking for that guy who's definitely going to be 'The One' so that when I find him I can just grab and get crackin on that reproducing thing as fast as possible. No. I hate kids. I think that maybe I have an irrational fear of them, coz like, sometimes when I look at them all I can think is

"you know I don't like you, don't you...and you're just waiting til your ma leaves me alone with you so you can grab me with your claws or bite me with your fangs and kill me!" 
Now, obviously I know that there is no 'scientific' evidence to back up my fangs and talons theory, but I know it's true and that's all that matters. So the thought of having one of those living in me for 9 months is not a comforting one. Grabbing hold of my innards with those sharp fingers and toes and hangin on in there for almost a year...leeching off MY nutrients, and don't get me started on childbirth. Oh it's all well and good for them, they just have to lie there on their backs and wait to be pushed...but for the pusher?? And all along they're pinching you on their way out just to remind you what you're bringing into the world.....
I'm not a maternal person. I don't like children. My body is not a nesting ground.

And that is why, when I indulge in pre-marital coitus, I make sure to bag that shit up. And afterwards, oh man I make sure that nothing got in there by accident. I mean that condom gets almost as much action afterwards as during just to make sure it's all good. And that is why, when recently, the condom was found to be, not only in a state of disrepair, but well and truly ripped to shreds, I found myself thrown into my worst nightmare.

Obviously the first thought was, hey, stand up, gravity will do its job right? Then, that little bit of biology I actually learned came up to show its ugly head and go, Now now, that's not quite the way it works.....
So me and him decided to head off the next morning to get the morning after pill and nuke that shit before it could try to get comfy, or make some living space for itself. But as if that wasn't bad enough, before morning could arrive, not only did I dream about the situation, in dreamworld, my happy little safe place of clouds and  flowers and unicorns and happiness, the little FUCKER infested me and I had to live through the pregnancy and telling my parents....oh God telling my parents...and then 9months later I had a bouncing ball of horror snarling up at me, and I was like shit man, when am I going to wake up, and anyone who knows me knows that this is not something that usually happens, I like being asleep, and when I finally did wake up I was in a panic and a sweat and I was like,
"I got it, quick, punch me in the stomach!!!!!" and he was like.....whaaaa?
"punch me in the stomach!!! get it quick before it can get me!! It's like a home prevention method!!!" ...he did not...in case you were wondering..

Into the joyful place that is Boots, I go to the counter and ask very politely and guiltily....eh....you sell the morning after pill right?

And the nice lady smiles at me in that very lovely way where they're not judging you at all, but I know inside she was thinking (with a smile of course..) "you dirty little tramp...." but instead of saying that out loud, coz y'know if she did shit would've gone down.. she directs me to a little cubicle where she wants to ask me some questions to see if I qualify for the pill and to see if I need, I dunno, counselling or something, and all I can think is, just give me the pill, fuck, you don't even have to gimme water, I'll dry-mouth the thing, just save me!!! I'll take it in public! But instead of saying that and looking like a slut who's used to doing this kind of thing (because I'm NOT) I follow her into her lovely cubicle and answer her questions and then she takes 10minutes getting the pill for me and I'm left there alone with this information leaflet thinking, every moment I wait there could be a little fertilised seed setting up house in my uterus, get back here already!!!!!

The Red Invasion had been a week late anyway this month. Stress, college work, it just got held up. Two weeks later, I'm getting a little bit worried. I drive my friends half-mad going, how do you make it happen?? Like, is there anything you can do to just give it a nudge?? And Vitamin C is suggested, maybe some light exercise, maybe some iron to provide the fuel for take-off?? And it's not happening!!
In desperation one night I ask my friend to google 'Symptoms of pregnancy' so I can see how to know early (i.e. at this stage) if there's a parasite nesting in me. And a list of ways to know if you're lucky enough to be entering one of the happiest periods of your life comes up, and I'm thinking, fuck me, you've got that wrong!!! But at least I know. There's no way to know at this stage... fine...well, how can I encourage my body to not be...or give me a sign that I'm not. And so we try:
'Solutions to pregnancy'
'Cures for pregnancy'
'Home Remedies for pregnancy'
'Alternatives to pregnancy'
and in desperation, finally I suggest 'Home abortions' before I realise how bad that would look on his search history....

"Punch me in the stomach!!!" I suggest to him as well, but he refuses as well...so I punch myself in the stomach for good measure, but we all know how hard it is to really punch yourself, the angle gets all messed up.......
If it's not there by Friday, we'll get a test, we decide..

Friday morning I wake up with stabbing pains in my sides, and all I can think of is NOOOO it's sticking its claws in me!! It's taking hold!!! How the fuck am I going to explain this to my parents???!!! What if I get fat, or get stretch marks?? I don't want to breastfeed or change nappies!! I even hate babysitting!!!

A few hours later the Red Army invaded. I have never been stabbed so many times in the side for so many consecutive days- and I never thought I'd be so happy to feel that pain.... I think I'm a little bit masochistic. And I like it.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

How I got my broken hand

Ooooh, 2 posts in one day?? I'm on fire!!!! And in pain. Because of my broken hand. And my hand is broken why??? And no, it's not from that..... It's because I'm an idiot.

So, me and my friends went to an Irish speaking pub last week called Club Conradh na Gaeilge and had the craic there, had some drinks, spoke Irish, played trad music and all, and eventually it came time to leave and the only option of transport back to the town where we're in university was the first train back in the morning.... at 5.30 am. And so we decided to go on a photograph-documented adventure around our capital city!! Yaaay!!

Along this journey, at the Central Bank in Dublin to be precise, two of the friends jumped up on these benches to pose, and not to be left out, I followed. However, I mistimed my running jump (obviously a bad idea to begin with), landed badly, and after a failed balancing act worthy of the stair-scene in Hitchcock's Psycho, fell over backwards and landed on my hand- a moment captured perfectly on camera to haunt me for the rest of my days. Needless to say I did a little bit of pained moaning about how I'd broken my hand until one of the friends, recovering from her laughter told me it wasn't broken and to get over it. And so I believed her, and we carried on.

And obviously, in a logical follow-on step, as we crossed the Ha'penny bridge over the river Liffey, I jumped up, grabbed onto the arch and proceeded to swing out of the arch as my friend took a picture, all the while as I complained that my hand and wrist were really sore and they were definitely sprained from that fall. But hey, I'm not one to quit on an adventure for a little bit of pain, so on we went, climbing into a stolen trolley we found and carting round in it til we saw a garda and decided to dispose of the evidence down an alley- hey we didn't steal it in the first place! In addition to this, I hung upside-down out of a lamp post...very strong legs, good gripping ability y'know. However, the cherry on top was to follow.

At the Spire in Dublin, guess who decided it would be a genuinely brilliant idea to do a handstand up against it?? Of course it was me. And so I did. And rather than the elegant gymnastic display which I'm sure you assumed followed, my injured hand and wrist buckled underneath me and I crumpled spectacularly. Rolling over just in time for another photo to be taken.

Hungover and in agony the next day, I made my way to the doctor who told me she couldn't send me for an x-ray in Dublin because it would be hectic and I'd be in there all day, unless I really had nowhere else to go. And so I rang my dad, in a conversation that went.

"Hey Dad, what're you up to?"
"Oh nothing much, not busy at all really...."
"Oh good. Can you collect me from college and bring me to hospital, the doc thinks I have a broken hand."
....silence...."oh.....ok then...I'll be there in an hour"

One week and a half later I am sitting here in pain in a soft cast- one of those splint things, waiting for Thursday morning when I will be getting the x-ray redone in my hand because apparently there was too much swelling and the couldn't see the suspected broken bone properly in the x-ray...which doesn't look good for the intactness of the bone...obviously...

The moral of the story is. If you're drunk and in Dublin time your jumps better....or just don't jump.
..also, handstands with broken hands hurt.

My mother thinks I'm a dirty slut

....hmm.... well, maybe not entirely accurate. I'm pretty sure she has her suspicions about all of us... (I refer of course back to my earlier post about her discovery of my younger brother's cum-rag) but she definitely thinks for sure that I'm a slut. She might be right.

It all began with a 40minute drive from a nearby town home which she spent the entirety of talking about sex and condoms and making sure I was aware of their importance. Yes, I know she's an Irish Catholic, but she doesn't wanna be a grandmother yet!! Basically, the summation of this traumatic conversation was that she "was young once too and knows how it can be, you get drunk at a party..." oh God, too much information mother... but I should always make sure I carry condoms coz I can't be sure the boy will have them. Upon reaching our home, I made my disturbed way to my sisters room and told her what had happened, expecting the normal 'oh yeah, I remember getting that conversation' reaction. Instead, what I got was a stunned sister who told me that she'd received no such conversation and in fact had heard that my mother had freaked at the discovery that an older sister was at it with her boyfriend...hmm....schizo much??

A while later, my younger sister acquired a boyfriend and at the dinner table one day let slip that while staying at her boyfriends family home they had shared his bed. My mother let her cutlery drop immediately with a loud "Merciful hour!!!!" and didn't resume eating for a while. Later, I went upstairs to find a traumatised younger sister. Just as she opened her mouth to tell me her woes, an older sister came up, managing to force out a strangled, 'you'll never guess what ma just did'. Basically, in short, the mother went up to my younger sister after dinner in a frightful state and managed to finally get out

"I've been feeling sick since dinner just thinking about this and I need to know the truth, so I'm just going to ask you straight out....have you been having sex with your boyfriend??"

and as had been the case at the time with a more innocent sister, she replied, stunned,

"have you had sex with any boys????" my mother went on, and with my sisters reassurance that no she had not, my mother breathed a sigh of relief, "oh thank heavens, I've been so worried!" and started out the door, pausing only to ask in a more sinister tone, "you wouldn't lie to me would you??" to which a disturbed sister put her mind at ease again, and off the mother went downstairs........
..........to an older sister, where she immediately launched into, "I'd be a fool to think you were still a virgin, but just tell me this, are you being careful?????" to which a slightly more innocent sister assured her, to her surprise, that she would not in fact be a fool because she was still one. Relief flooded through the mother as that glimmer of hope that maybe there was still a chance that only her eldest was sullied became more possible.

And then we realised. That out of her daughters who were home, there was only one left to ask. And it was me. And she was about to be crushed.

And so it happened, that evening as myself and the younger sister sat in the kitchen watching tv, my mother entered and asked my sister to kindly change the brothers bed. Of course I immediately offered to help but was betrayed by the sister who refused!!!! "hardly a 2 person job", my mother smirked as the sister headed out of the room, pausing only to shoot me look of realisation as she figured what I was about to be asked.
"I assume you know what I'm about to ask you then, do you?" the mother began.
And I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed. Not because it was in any way humorous, but because there really was nothing else to do in that situation.
"I just hope you were careful" was all she could say. Bless her cotton socks.

One would be forgiven for assuming it was all her own fault that she would assume I was slut- a result of being nosy or the like. But one would be wrong for thinking that. For some reason, my siblings delight in informing her of my exploits, both to embarrass me and to shock her.

For example, at that same dinner table as I stirred shit about the sister sharing the bed with the boyfriend in his family home, she remarked in a false innocence,
"but you used to share a bed with your ex all the time up in college, even though ye only lived across the road from each other!"

Another sister derived great pleasure in letting my mother know that at the end of year party for the Drama society party I'm involved with in college, one of the (joke) awards I had won was the 'Bike of the Year'* award, and it took all of my convincing skills to make her believe this referred to the amount of boys I had kissed.....
[* Bike of the Year, i.e. everyone gets a ride... it's not true though!!!!]

This Christmas, the younger sister delighted in informing the mother of a local boy my mother knows who I kissed at Christmas. My mother looked at me in my severely hungover state and sighed,
"oh Dear, who's left?"

The icing on the cake came when recently, I stayed at a boys house after a gig in the local town as it was less expensive than getting a taxi home and although we kissed, when I got home it was my mothers first instinct to sigh in a much disappointed way,
"oh, you didn't have sex with him, did you??"

No. 1) why would that be your first thought??? ..should be thinking I'm lovely and innocent!
No. 2) like I'd have told her.....( and no, we didn't!!!)

To sum up, in general nowadays, my mother thinks that I am a slut, who is careless with the use of protection and who she now needs to constantly remind that she doesn't want to be a grandmother yet and to make the point clear to that if I do get knocked up, she's not going to mind the result and I'll have ruined my young life forever- cue a list of all the things I'll never get to do. Thanks ma, love the vote of confidence..

Although, it could be worse. In recent times every time she sees the younger brother sitting thinking or staring into space, she sits beside him and asks in a very concerned manner, "are you ok love? ...you haven't...got a girl pregnant have you??"

..no. He doesn't know where it's coming from either... apparently your mother's impression of you changes drastically after she finds your cum-rag....

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Sit on my face and tell me that you love me...

(Serious flashback happening here.....)

The only thing I could think of was that Monty Python song as the scene played out in front of me... I could hear it being sung in my head and for a minute it didn't seem real... it was as if I were imagining a role for myself in one of his films, because surely things like this didn't happen in real life. WRONG! Coz it fucking did....

It was a lovely afternoon at Easter time and my brother and I were partaking in an Easter revision course in preparation for our Leaving Certificate exams that coming summer. (The Leaving Cert is the state examination you sit at the end of Secondary School- around age 17-19, the results of which determine your acceptance into your choice of college course.) It was a week long intensive course, so needless to say we were both bored off our tits and made the most of our hour-long break to hang out in the bustling hub that was the half-dead shopping centre nearby... A real ideal way to spend an unseasonably hot Easter week...

Anyway, I was drinkin a smoothie and we were chatting away, havin the banter before we had to go back and endure an hour long session of Irish in a roasting classroom with the windows all closed YAY, and we had a seat on the bench that circled the fountain in the middle of the shopping centre, watching people go by and whatnot. As we sat there a lady approached the fountain- I saw her out of the corner of my eye although I didn't really pay much attention to her at first. I remember she was..well, rather a large being however.

My brother, a casual guy at the best of times, decided that he needed a lie-down, and lay back along the bench. I still see this moment play out in slow motion in my head. He lay back, and all of a sudden there was a large arse reversing towards his head. 
...It's not that what followed next all happened so fast that I didn't have time to give warning.. it was more that I honestly could not believe that something like this could actually happen in real life, surely someone, one of them, would see what was happening and right it before it all went arse-ways (hehe). It was like some kind of sick curiosity gripped me and I had to let things play out and see what would happen.

And there it was. Neither of them even saw it coming, but the next thing we knew she was sitting on his face. I remember that flash of a look of horror on his face as, at the last moment my brother saw what was about to happen, and then it was lost under masses of behind. She jumped up like she'd been bitten and shot a furious look at him like he'd stuck his head under her arse knowingly, like he was some arse-predator who got his kicks from being half-smothered by people sitting on him, like there was nothing he wanted to do more in the world than motorboat her arse cheeks. In return, of course she got a horrified stare from each of us, the kind that screams 5months of therapy  needed from this experience. Then with numerous backwards glares, probably to make sure he didn't follow her and stick that face right in there on the escalator for a round 2, she stormed off into the distance.

We sat there in silence for a few seconds, the brother in an upright position now, learning from his mistakes, processing what had just happened, "Did that actually just...??" Silent nods. "And then she acted like it was your fault". Silence for another few seconds before my peals of laughter echoed round the centre.

"A fat lady just sat on your face!!!!!"

"That bitch", was all he could manage.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Leery Locomotive- why you shouldn't talk to strangers

You would be surprised at how many times you have to ask the random stranger sitting next to you on a train to please take his hand off your boob and thigh....

Or, I was anyway... I mean, surely it's not a big request to make like. Please stop molesting me. Simples! But, nope, apparently some people need to be told numerous times!?

On the train home today, doin me thing, nodding off, and the foreign person across the aisle to me decides to strike up awkward conversation. So we chat away and he wants to show me some pictures so he moves over and sits beside me.. SHIT 1!! Never let them sit beside you, thats a sure invitation! >Hey there you, sit beside me!! Oh wait....but really what I mean is grab my boob! Tch, of course, and I thought I had to be subtle like...

So he shows me his pictures, and then stays sitting next to me...ooop, he's a smart one, he is....that's how you do it...you just stay sitting there... Good man. Introduces himself and we shake hands, but oh look, he's added in a little kiss on the hand SHIT 2!!! he's established the first little gesture!!! now of course feel free to cop a feel!

We talk and he tells me about his job, he works for a designer, his Da owns a company in Italy, something to do with diamonds, and putting them on things...supplying them.... I dunno, but then he very nicely admires my body, coz y'know he's around designers all the time and he's totally used to seeing beautiful women, models and stuff, part of the job description y'know to check them out, and he does some designing himself and then since I seem interested in his job oh, what's that? SHIT 3! that's a sure invitation to admire my body WITH YOUR HANDS!! which he does. and I'm like, oop, careful now, tryna move away further into the window I've already squashed myself up against. And as the train journey continues, he tells me how he got married recently to an Irish girl who stole his heart when he met her back home in Italy, oh he's married, that's grand, feel safe again, no you don't coz that's SHIT 4, where you let your guard down coz he's a happy newly wed so feelin you up means nothing to him! and we keep chatting and he keeps laughingly giving me hugs which I don't reciprocate (SHIT 5- keeping you close so you can't escape!!!!) and peckin me on the cheek and he wonders why I won't kiss him back?? (6- make me feel like I'm hurting his feelings so I'll be more receptive!!!) Then he starts asking me about me, do I have a boyfriend? and of course, in a desperate attempt to make him back off, I lie through my teeth and announce, yes, yes I do, I have a boyfriend, I love my boyfriend, oh wow I love my boyfriend, but hadn't you guessed it, SHIT 7, that's another excuse for a hug and kiss coz apparently now I'm so cute with my boyfriend who I love and who he hopes counts himself very lucky coz I'm such a lovely girl!! And then lo and behold, he starts talking about sex! but of course, and how, and he's sure I know, coz he's sure me and my boyfriend do be riding and stuff y'kno, but girls take longer to 'get hot' as he puts it....oh dear mr., you really don't see how uncomfortable you're making me do you... and does my boyfriend know how coz...blah blah, oh god, yes he does, he knows perfectly well thank you, what's that, how does he do it?? well to be honest know this is starting to sound like very bad phone sex, let me just laugh awkwardly and shrug, oh right,8, that was an invite for another kiss on the cheek, I didn't realise I was so adorable.
He tells me he's been doing a course in massage in his spare time and would I like a go, and I say no thank you, I feel quite fine, but wait, he's not taking no for an answer, so lets just stare out the window at rain and hope that I can freeze sheets of rain into ice with my dagger looks that I can then SHOVE THROUGH HIS FACE!!!!!!!! ahem.. but no, alas, I cannot. And so instead I sit out the massage for another few minutes before announcing that I feel great now, thanks that was well sound. Oh, right, we've a SHIT 9 on our hands because apparently having experienced the massage means I'd like to hear about the different types of massage he does and wouldn't you know, tantric is one of them. well just don't offer me one of those! apparently tantric massages are very good, if you get a girl on the nipple, (STRIKE10) here, oh right, you just poked my boob again, thanks, and here (STRIKE 11!!!!) that would be my upper thigh there now, thanks....I'm just going to smile and nod. and the train journey goes on...and he doesn't seem to be getting off the train!! And why's that??? Because we appear to be getting off at the same stop! Great. SHIT 12, he's stalking me!! Only another half an hour of this then.....

So kisses in the cheek become kiss as close to getting me on the mouth as possible and I'm pretty sure I felt tongue tryna get me at one stage, but as he keeps reminding me he has a wife. THAT DOES NOT MAKE MOLESTATION OK!!! And he keeps putting his hand on my leg while we talk and I keep turning the subject to neutral topics like the weather or where he's from, tell me about your country. But oh no, he wants to tell me about how in his country people are so much more comfortable with nudity and it's not always about sex, and aren't I so cute, I look so shocked, and now I'm his little friend too. Lucky me. And when finally I manage to turn the conversation just to the sights of Italy, etc., he decided to invite me out to visit him sometime....no...I'm good thanks.... I think I'll stay here...not here though obviously, not on the train forever like, that'd be silly, but y'kno..

So apparently I'm a lovely girl, I'm his little friend, I'm very well brought up and mannerly and my parents should be very proud of me and of the good job they did raising me (that's my thigh) and I should make sure my boyfriend knows how lucky he is (that's my boob), oh we're going for another kiss on the cheek are we? And now he wants my number. Eh... how can I say EH...NO without making him want to murder me..... and so again, I lie through my teeth. >I don't give out my number any more to people. I had a very bad experience with someone who wouldn't stop harrassing me so y'kno, I find it best not to provide people with the opportunity any more... and of course he understands that feeling, oh we'll have a little empathy hug will we? coz nobody should do that to someone else, but of course he's not like that and he wouldn't be harrassing me (are you sure about that??) and am I sure I won't give him my number?? Quite. Sorry. And on and on the train goes. And five more times he asks me for my number and five more times I say, sorry, no. And finally he wants my email instead. and we reach the station and my brother rings me (nick of time, how do I get out of giving away my email like!!) and ooh gotta take this, oh the brother has a question for me, I don't kno the answer, hold on til I ring my sister and find out and then ring you back yeh? oh look, now I gotta ring my friend to see if she's collecting me but she's just had a drink so she can't so I'll ring a taxi instead, and my lovely new friend offers to give me a lift coz his wife is coming to get him, but I don't want to be taken into the wilderness so.. what's that she'll be here in 10minutes? well it's cold and I don't want offers of body warmth sharing.. y'see I'm in a rush, so I'll just ring a taxi instead, my friends are waiting for me in the town- aha, I'm learning! 1) i'm in a rush and don't have 10mins to wait, 2) PEOPLE KNOW WHERE I AM!!! they'll find me!! so no, thanks, taxi it is. And as the taxi arrives he's on his phone and I've spent the last few minutes on the phone to my friend asking very important questions about where I'm meeting her and if I'm sure there's no problems she'd really like to discuss with me? and i wave nicely, hop in the taxi and leave before he can fuck me goodbye...in a friendly way of course..coz he has a wife...so it's nothing sexual...