The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure

One Month Today

2009-12-16T01:54:00.000-08:00

The Fear as really hit me. It's one month today that I embark upon my journey. That would be ok if I could just sit and wait for it to happen but I've still a million and one tings to do. And work is so busy that it's difficult to muster the energy to do anything on my time off.

Today I have to visit the quack and see what injections I need. Then I have to go into town and do pretty much ALL my xmas shopping. Then I have to come home and sort out the mountain of dirty washing that's been piling up in my room. I have to go to the bank and deposit many, many bags of change I've been hoarding. Today is my only chance to do all this as it's my only day off between now and Christmas day (well, I'm off on Sunday but will no doubt be nursing a pretty spectacular hangover after my work xmas do).

So today is rather precious but instead of getting stuck into everything I need to do I've chose to blog about it first. I clearly have my priorities right. Next week my girls get here (Mels and Dirt Bird) so it's important that I get all the mundane stuff out of the way so I can enjoy some quality time with them. Mel, mum and I will partake in a Boxing Day Bun Off, which should be fun, and Dirt Bird has requested a lesson in Nelly's special pancake-making skills. There will be some Weston's Perry (£1.29 a pint and 7.4% alcohol!!!!) drank, whiskey, wine and maybe even a wee Buckfast or too. Buns will be eaten and smokes will be smoked.

Then after I eat like a horse over the festive period I have the pleasure of having a wisdom tooth removed. I may do what Z done and keep my tooth in a little box and take it with me. I don't like the idea of not being so wise. Right, off I go to do stuff that needs to be done.

From A to B

2009-12-10T15:26:00.000-08:00

I'm a traveler who doesn't really like traveling. I'm not sure if it's laziness or a disliking to being confined to vessels and timetables. I think it's more the latter as I hate being restricted. Though it is part laziness too as there's so much organising involved and I am not a big fan of organising.

I have been wondering for years now, why haven't they invented teleportation? And not this silly notion of needing portals to get from A to B, no, an actual button at the side of our neck that instantly transports us from one place to the other. So when we're too drunk to walk we can just teleport home.

So anyway, I love being in other places and I don't mind traveling if it's aimlessly, with no place to be at no particular time. But I hate long distance flights and bus journey's. They are long and boring, and I can't get off the plane whenever I want. I always loved the idea of jumping on a train and getting off whenever I felt like it or when I liked the look of a town. Everything's so regimented these days though it's hard to travel with real freedom.

Though, I suppose I should also note that, it's whilst taking these plane and bus journey's that you have some of your best experiences because there's so much opportunity to interact with people. Not only that, the actual traveling part gives you time for reflection, or reading, or writing or knitting (if that's your kind of thing), all of which are enjoyable. I still think they should hurry up and invent teleportation though.

Down The Pub

2009-12-08T10:43:00.000-08:00

D put this pic up on Flickr. He titles it Martha's Reaction At Final Whistle He admitted that he used a little artistic license but she was watching the Ireland Vs S. Africa match that Saturday and she Ireland did win so it wasn't total lies.

In other news...I did go into work that next day (after threatening to walk out) and I did say to my boss: I'm giving you my one week's notice, do you want it in writing. I'm still not free from their evil clutches though. I didn't have the heart to let her down over Christmas. My New Year's Resolution is to grow some balls.

Fat Face Freddy's diet totally fell to an arse and, not only that, the good Holly cat is getting kinda chubby too. I think the kitekat self service is back on. Oh, and Auntie Ganching was home last weekend. She regaled me with stories of horrendous bus crashes in S.America and listed off all the dangers I would most definitely face (kidnapping, rape, muggings, murder). I'm all set now to face an almost certain horrific death. Least I'll die in a nice warm country.

Getting Stuff Done

2009-12-04T10:52:00.001-08:00

I booked my flight home from S.America to London via Madrid. I'm gonna spend a couple of days in Madrid then I land in London 2 days before Katkins wedding. I'm glad I've booked it because it means I don't need to worry about spending all my money on whiskey. It was also beginning to roar my head looking at endless flights home via different routes. The way that I'm traveling I won't have to back track on myself.

Also, it has put mum's mind at rest that I won't be landing in New York and not allowed into the country because I've no return flight home. That doesn't matter though because I'm worried that they might not believe the person in my passport photo is actually me. It was taken years ago and I've been told many times that I look like a serial killer in it (especially if it's a photocopy).

I also did my online ESTA thingy. They approved it but say it doesn't guarantee me entry into the USA. I maybe should've got a new passport. Especially considering one of Brad's darling cats peed on it in Thailand. I've been sorting stuff out left, right and centre but it still feels like there's a lot to do. I'm currently trying to delete all the shite off my itunes so I've got the perfect playlist for traveling. I remember when me and Earthworm Jim went backpacking round Europe we spent days making several mini disc compilations. We bought external speakers for it and stocked up in loads of batteries. We remembered to bring everything but the mini discs. Now technology is so clever I don't have to worry about bringing the discs. But I will cry if I forget my ipod.

When Bad Days Turn Good

2009-11-26T14:17:00.000-08:00

It's funny how sometimes it can take 'til about 10 O'clock at night before your day starts getting good. I only started work (the shit job) at one today but 7 minutes in and I was already enraged. Mum called in to get her purse at two and she said she could feel the anger. I'm not normally like this but I think I'm pretty stressed about going away and trying to juggle two jobs while fitting in time for everything else. Not to mention that I'm still feeling pretty bluee about breaking up. I felt like an absolute demon today.

But demon's must be entitled to some joy too because I had the pleasure of seeing little Martha not once, not twice but thrice. My dad also had good news today and I couldn't be more chuffed for him! And within the space of a couple of days I've found 3 people to meet up with in Mexico. The most important being young Danny Boy who came to visit me in Thailand. And while he was sitting at Noom's bar one afternoon as I was at school he befriended a dude, Chris, from Australia and a chica from Canada, Melodie. Later that night Danny proposed to Melodie and then he proposed to Chris. He also proposed to a few other people and although romance wasn't in the air for Danny that night, it was for Chris and Melodie who hooked up and have been together ever since. But they, too, are in Mexico and will be until July so Danny and I will are gonna visit them. Chris has promised to build me basketball hoop!

But definitely the best news of today is that probably for sure I will be getting full time hours with the good job, which means I can tell the boss of the shit job to go boil her head in a pan of fucking oil. Even if it all backfires on me I don't care. I'd rather go to S.America with less money and work there if I have to rather than work myself into a frenzy so that I'm all wound up for traveling, which I know would spoil the first few weeks away. There's more to life than working every hour God sends.

Gosh, is that the time? I need to get a good night's sleep for tomorrow I'll be letting the boss from the shit job know that I don't need the hassle and I just don't care.

My Lovely Sax

2009-11-25T13:19:00.000-08:00

I was talking to Mel the other night. She was telling me how she'd paid a fortune for glasses lenses and it gutted her. I wonder how many people actually say "I should have gone to Specsavers" because I know I have. Everything's just a money spin. But how we both laughed as I reminisced about the time I went to trade in my old sax for the new one just after having a tooth pulled. I was in such horrendous pain that I heard the right numbers, I just got them the wrong way round.

I went home all chuffed with myself saying to Bert (who was there and witnessed the part exchange) how brilliant it was that I got a new sax for £80. Then Bert informed me that, no, they'd paid me £80 for my old sax and I'd bought the new one for £200. I didn't believe him 'til I pulled out my card receipt. I was pretty gutted. Then again, I had a new saxophone to console myself with. A lovely saxophone. That gets played once every few months. By Bert.

Nelly Has The Pleasure

2009-11-18T10:08:00.000-08:00

So, I contacted Maltesers the other day via their website. I just dropped them a little line to ask about the MaltEaster bunnies they brought out last year. They have reassured me that there are plans to make chocolate bars but they will also be bringing out the bunnies next Easter. This might mean though that someone will have to post me a batch to S.America. God I hate this country but God I love the chocolate.

I'm totally at a loss in my life. Sitting here waiting in limbo for my trip. I feel disjointed. I have no kids, boyfriend, pets or plants. Nothing and nobody needs me and I feel kinda empty and void. The only person who needs me (or thinks she needs me) is Pearlie, and that's for things like taking her stockings off. My calling in life is so glamorous! Yesterday I was let off taking her stockings off due to being in 'bad form'. Nelly had the joy instead. I believe this was the interchange between stocking-taker-offer and stocking-taker-offee:

Offer: Right, so you want these stockings off then?

Offee: Aye, but where's Hannah? Hannah could take them off.

Offer: Hannah's in 'bad form' so I'll do it.

Offee: How could she be in 'bad form' sure she was off work all day!

Offer: That's why she's in 'bad form'. She'd rather be out working.

Anyway, Nelly was half right. I don't mind the odd day off but working all weekend and then having a Monday and Tuesday off isn't great for my social life. On the other hand, though, it is good for my traveling fund.

The Washing Machine Of My Mind

2009-11-16T02:54:00.000-08:00

I'm in one of those moods today where I'm wondering: what's it all about? I'm not happy, or sad, just 'Ho Hum'. The pissy weather isn't helping. And I'm wondering why we don't have a National Dancing Day yet because surely that would put a smile on everyone's face.

Dylan Moran has the perfect answer for how he fills his day. He has no hobbies or pastimes, in fact, he finds them sinister. So what does he do with his day? He spends most of his time in the washing machine of his own mind, thinking: What's this? When does it end? Do I like it? I don't know. Oh, it's time to go to sleep. I can't sleep, I'm worried.

I'd quite like to employ a personal assistant at the minute, y'know, someone to basically think for me while I happily forget everything and play escape games. I'm pretty sure I should be making appointments to see the doc about vaccinations and I should probably do my ESTA thing and be looking into health insurance. The days are just rolling by and I'm no further ahead. The only thing that's in my head at the minute are leaving do's. I've already figured I need to have at least 6 parties to incorporate everyone I want to say goodbye to. I'll probably be dying from one big accumulative hangover by the time I board my flight but this actually seems like quite a desirable state to leave in. If I'm hungover I will be too distracted to worry.

Anyone know any good Irish bars in New York?

I Could Boke Thinking About It

2009-11-10T12:27:00.000-08:00

Nelly and Bert had pumpkin soup for dinner tonight. It was homemade by Nelly using pumpkin's grown in Nelly's garden and chillies grown in Wee Les' Wee garden (I don't know if it's a wee garden but it can't be too big otherwise Wee Les wouldn't be able to look after it).

Due to bastarding toothache soup seemed like a damn good idea to me, but one mouthful of Nelly's pumpkin soup, with Wee Les' kick ass chillies, was enough for me to know that eating a whole bowlful would be a painful experience. My eyes lingered over the Cup-A-Soup but I thought I'd go for a can of Baxter's Leek and Potato instead.

As I poured the contents from the can I thought it looked different but I heated it up and buttered my bread and sat down to dine. After one spoonful I knew something was amiss. But how could soup from a can be fusty? I asked Bert to taste it but he'd just eaten the last of his marzipan bar and wasn't forsaking the sugary taste in his mouth for anything. I checked the date on the can. Fine. I remarked upon the weirdness of it to mum and she assumed that it was probably just not very nice soup.

So back to my bowl. I dipped some bread in and concentrated on the taste of butter. I ate half a slice of bread then chanced another spoonful. No way! The smell hit my nose before the spoon entered my mouth.

There's definitely something wrong with that soup!

I asked Bert again but he was still enjoying his sugar high. I took the bowl into mum. She sniffed. Just a stinking soup according to her expert nostrils. Then she tasted a mouthful and squealed.

Eeeuuuggghhh!!! It's sour!

I bloody knew it! I knew it yet I tried to endure it. Forced myself to eat half a slice of bread with it. And then the thought of it just turned me. Mum reckoned it tasted like snot. Bert scrunched his face up talking about rancid, slimy leeks. I am a little bit traumatised.

In other news: Fat Face Freddy is off the diet. Bert kept "forgetting" (Bert does have a terrible memory but I'm inclined to believe that he's just too soft to cut down Fred's food intake). So tonight when I walked into the kitchen and saw Freddy devouring a bowl of food the size of a small mountain I confiscated it. And then when I caught him finishing off what was in Holly cat's bowl I confiscated that too. At which point he decided if he couldn't eat the rest of his dinner he was gonna eat poor Holly cat. So, the diet's off. Purely for the sake of Holly cat of course.

Fat Face Freddy

2009-11-09T13:23:00.000-08:00

The other night when Nelly was writing this post we got chatting about her obsession for dead animals. I reckoned I must have inherited this desire as I recall, when I was a youngster, taking great pleasure in retrieving any dead mouse or shrew the cat brought back. I liked to give them a proper burial. Mum was wondering was it just a thing children do. I said it must have been as I remembered big sister Z being most appalled when she saw a dead mouse, in a clear plastic freezer bag, sitting on the kitchen table one morning before school. Obviously I hadn't time to bury it before school and was keeping it in the freezer bag for later when I got home. Hey, that's what wee sisters are for. Just like big sisters are for making you believe that bears live in the woods.

We called out to see baby M (not Z or D, just baby M!) after work tonight. I got to have a nice cuddle with Martha. The first proper one in fact. I think this is because I'm not so scared of breaking her now. And she didn't seem so grumpy about being cuddled. She normally cries when placed in my arms. I don't know if it's just coincidence or if she actually hates me.

Fish Face Freddy is officially the fattest cat in Ireland and is now on a part-time diet. I say part-time because if it's Bert feeding him he forgets. All you gotta do is look at his massive bulging gut to remember that he's too damn fat and needs to be on a diet. Also, the kitty hardnuts are no longer accessible on a self service basis. And no more Freddy finishing off the remains of Holly's dinner. Fat bastard!

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

2009-11-01T13:07:00.000-08:00

Breaking up is hard to do but there are good break ups and there are bad break ups. I never really talked about my boy on my blog. For a few reasons. For the fact that it's kinda hard announcing that you've met someone you like in an sphere that's so public, especially when you know that the person you like will read it. It's also hard if you're not actually sure where that relationship's going and you're just wanting to take things slowly and casually. It's also hard when you know, even before you've embarked on that relationship, that it was always going to be temporary because you never planned on staying in that place where that person is. You always knew that one day it'd be over because you were going somewhere far away for an indefinite period of time.

Breaking up is hard to do. Especially when you love someone deeply but you knew, right from day one, you never stood a chance. And if I'm giving the impression that this love was one-sided. It wasn't. It was always reciprocated. It was mutual. We showed it in different ways but we both showed it and we both felt it and it was divine. It was a soft, comforting blanket wrapped round our hearts and cheeks and souls. It was what it was and it was enjoyed until it stopped becoming enjoyable.

Breaking up is hard to do. But sometimes it's the right thing to do. And when 2 people can realise this, accept it and leave each other, not with bitterness, but with kind words and respect and appreciation and thought, then it's a good break up. And in my eyes, that's true love. When you care about a person so much that you can let them be free. When their happiness is more important that yours because if they're happy, you'll be happy. And you know it's a good break up if you look at what you've shared and you don't regret a thing, you just try to figure out the lesson that life is teaching you. Aye, there are good break ups and there are bad break ups.

Either way though, it still hurts.

Joy Riding Dreams

2009-10-27T08:59:00.000-07:00

The other night I had a dream so damn ludicrous I have to share it with the world. Mel and I were driving in her mum's car. We'd left it briefly to call into a shop to get sweets and when we came back there were 4 young hoody-wearing, joy-riding yobs driving away in the good car. Fortunately, they weren't driving that fast so we were able to chase them. Unfortunately, the only thing I had to stop them from stealing the car was a pair of dirty knickers, which I proceeded to rub in the face of the driver so that he couldn't see where he was going. He crashed, repeatedly, into a lamp post!

Dad, The Lovely Linda and Katkins and her future hubby have joined us in the Land Of Ire for a week of holiday fun and mid term madness. Katy is making a crustless quiche and there's a special Nigelly cake in the fridge. There's Jameson's on the sideboard and I have a mechanic helicopter to construct. Surely it don't get much better than that?

Is Carlos More Crazy Than The Zombie Catepillars?

2009-10-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to blog but I think I'm a bit sick of myself. Sick of the things I write and they way I write about them. The weekend was good. I spent Saturday night in the local with a low-key crowd that consisted of some part-time musicians, full-time alcoholics, two woman, both mad but in different ways, a sweet young gay guy who has befriended me, and Carlos, whose possibly from Spain but most likely from the moon.

Carlos is a regular at the bar. He acts like a crazy but harmless fool. But he's crazy in a way which makes you wonder if he's putting it on. I really don't know his story and neither does anyone else. He talks to many but no one really understands him. I can't help get the impression he just finds it easier that way. Pretending to be mad rather than trying to get people to understand him. I was thinking of trying it out for a bit.

I couldn't help but get totally fascinated by the caterpillars that were crawling up the outside window one day last week. I went out for a closer inspection and noticed the caterpillars were lying over these bundles of yellow pods. I asked Bert about them but all he knew was that the caterpillars came from the cabbages. Turns out that tiny wasps sting larvae into the 'pillars and this makes them head up high, where the larvae explodes out of them, killing them. I was reading all about it here. Bert brought some into the house with the cabbages. He said he kept trying to chuck them in the compost but they kept crawling out. That's because they're programmed to head up high so the larvae can explode. Bert should no better than to try to upset the course of nature.

Sweet Eggs

2009-10-06T04:07:00.001-07:00

When it comes to cooking dinner I only really have a few dishes; Thai curry (haven't made one of these for ages as my version of a Thai curry takes about 2 hours to make and 2 hours is something I just don't have these days); Fajitas (technically, this is cheating, as I buy the Old El Paso kits); Sausage Surprise (this is a fairly 'loose' dish. The surprise is basically whatever veg and sauces and herbs there are lying around; and, last but not least, omelette.

Last night I decided to make omelette for me and mum. It was a very tasty cheese and ham omelette which was very much enjoyed by mum and myself. But, even when you're the ripe old age of 27 there are still lessons to be learned:

I asked mum if she wanted some bread buttered. She said aye. I asked her did she want plain white bread. She said she'd take a bit of wheaten. I buttered her wheaten and left some dinner in for Pearlie. When I sat down at the table mum said:

By the way, that wasn't wheaten bread, it was treacle bread.

What mad cat baker thought it was a good idea to cunningly disguise some treacle bread as an innocent wheaten soda farl? Aw well, mum wasn't bothered. She said it tasted 'interesting'.

Bad To The Bone (And Pure Clean Rotten)

2009-10-01T14:52:00.000-07:00

My tiny little mind may actually inflate to the point of explosion, spraying bits of skull and brain juice everywhere. The dogs will probably come and sniff at it, lick a little bit up. Paddy dog might even stash a bit of my skull away for 'ron.

Talking of bones for the dogs. My friend at work's dad got some more bones for Paddy and Bonnie. She told me this on Monday but I was working at my other job and said I'd get them the next day. Can you see where this story's going? I walked into work on Saturday morning, slightly tired, a wee bit hungover. As I walked in I noticed a funny smell. I was too polite to say anything but then Miss JL mentioned it and I agreed there was, indeed, a bad smell. It wasn't 'til she asked what was in the fridge that I said:

Oh no, I forgot to take those bones for the dogs!

Cue lots of squealing, lots of laughing and the other girl being physically sick. Miss JL was also hungover. What a way to start the day off! And, to be fair, it didn't get much better.

Caught In The Act

2009-09-24T14:46:00.000-07:00

I haven't worn a watch for years. I had a Garfield watch when I was younger and, when I lost it, nothing else could replace it. I've had a few novelty ones over the years but their life spans were always limited. Now I just use my mobile as a clock and alarm. But I have strange habits with digital clocks. A while ago, for about 6 months, I had my clock set to half an hour before the real time. It was grand if it was half past something, or quarter to or on the hour but if it was 14:37 my brain struggled to work out what a half hour before that was.

Now I have developed another strange habit and that is to set my alarm clock to random times like 07:36 or 07:13. Of course, this is always about 3/4 of an hour before I actually have to get up and when I hit the snooze a few times it becomes really hard to figure out how long I've got left in bed. I guess the whole point of this exercise is to make sure I'm fully wakened before I have to rise.

I was working at both jobs today. It meant working from 9-9 but I need all the dollar I can get. About half seven tonight (when I was working at the old job) I decided that we needed coffee but there was no milk or sugar. Rather than waste money on buying milk and sugar I decided to run up to the food court an ask one of the cafes if I could take some sachets. I felt kinda rude because I wasn't buying the coffee from them but scabbing their coffee condiments. She was lovely though and told me to help myself. When I turned round I saw a familiar face smiling at me. My boss from the new job. I don't why but I was really embarrassed. And not only that but caught in the act skiving from my other job to get stuff for coffee. Of course he could have just assumed that I was out on a break but I always get all flustered and awkward when I'm doing something I shouldn't be. It also didn't help that when I saw him I jumped and said "Oh, caught in the act!"

Happy

2009-09-22T13:34:00.001-07:00

I am now, officially, an auntie! I say officially because I have been, unofficially, an auntie to many, many dogs over the years. I love dogs but I gotta say, being an auntie to a real live human being that will, one day, walk and talk and do many amazing things, well, it's just much better.

Also, my dad's coming to visit at the end of the week and I haven't seen him for ages and it just hit me over the past couple of days how much I miss him. In fact, over the next few weeks it's gonna be very family-orientated and I'm in the mood for embracing them.

Ages ago Zoe gave me a film. It was slide film, which she recommended I get cross-processed. To save myself having to explain, or bore you if you're not interested, here's a wee link that explains cross-processing. So I decided to do a bit of experimenting. I used a macro lens that a chick kindly gave to me years ago and done a few close-up shots of various plants in the garden. I'm not a big fan of flower photography but with the macro lens and cross-processing I managed to get some nice shots.

But the best thing about those photos was that mum, Bert and I sat looking at them together with mum and Bert trying to figure out what plant was what and what shed was what. It turns out I developed the photos back to front though. Aw well, they were perfect other than that. Even Pearlie liked them.

Oh, and did I mention I was an auntie. A real one. To a real person. Her name's Martha and she's gorgeous. She's so great that I'm gracing Next with my present for the first time since leaving there.

The Cryptic Canvas

2009-09-17T12:20:00.000-07:00

I got hopelessly addicted to this movie game for a week. I could only get about 15 on my own, then I had a little help from the boy and then, when both of our heads were tortured, I googled the last few answers. I don't know why I embarked upon such a mission as I'm the worst film buff ever. I can watch a whole film and only realise at the end that I've watched it before. I haven't been to the cinema in over 3 years. Couldn't even tell you what I went to see. Although I can kinda still remember the amazing mix-up I got that cost about a million pounds. I hate the cinema.

Anyway, this game done my swede in, big time, but because I had to google the last few answers there wasn't even any satisfaction in completing it. I mean, Iris, who's ever heard of a film called Iris? Take my advice, unless you know a lot about movies, and are good at crypic (and also blatantly obvious) clues, don't start this game.

Give A Dog A Bone

2009-09-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

Last Friday the poor dogs were on their own from half eight in the morning to half nine at night. They were beside themselves when me and Jakers landed back Friday night. Nelly and Bert were in the 'burgh of Edin, you see, visiting the Lovely Mel. I went into work o Saturday and Miss JL had a bag of bones for the doggies. She be the daughter of a butcher and so has access to all kinds of bone treats for dogs.

I left them outside in the yard but the dogs weren't one bit interested in them. You'd think that giving dogs a bone would be as easy as, well, giving a dog a bone. They must have thought they weren't allowed them because when I looked outside the bones were gone. Paddy was spotted in the lawn the next day chowing down on a big cow knee bone. Dirty dawg.

I'm still really enjoying my new job. It occurred to me that although I get on with the girls from my old work, they are all young and their interests lie solely around clothes, make-up and clothes. It's refreshing to work with people who are closer to my own age and especially when one of them is my very first best friend ever. Even though we drifted and lost contact for so many years, when I talk to her now I remember why she was my best friend. Also, we are in the same boat. 27, living at home, not sure what to do with our lives. We share the same kind of worries and hopes about life. Jaysus, is that the time? I'm away to make some scran.

Spuds From Nelly's Garden

2009-09-15T12:20:00.000-07:00

As we sat down to a feed of spuds tonight Nelly and Bert kept commenting on how awesome the potatoes were. I've heard them, and Pearlie, chatting about great potatoes before but to me spuds are just spuds. Bert commented on the two I picked from the plate saying they were the last two he'd go for. He put my lack of knowing a good potato down to me being half English. If I was pure bred Irish I'd know the difference between a good spud and a bad spud.

So Nelly was asking me if I felt like I was half English and I said I did when I was younger and I thought England was brilliant and Ireland was shit but less so now that I'm older and I think England's shit and Ireland's brilliant. I think I became sentimentally Irish when I went to uni in England and I got sick of having to repeat everything I said and people making 'Irish' jokes and comments about potatoes (Ha! How ironic). And as Dylan Moran points out, English people just can't help mocking our accents. I do love the English though, hating them would be like hating myself. And there are many, many brilliant English people just the same as there are many, many Irish tossers.

1.21 Gigawatts!

2009-09-10T13:57:00.000-07:00

Jeez, I just really don't have it in me at the minute to be funny or interesting or insightful. I dunno. I'm happy. I work less at the old job, more at the new job, so I'm earning more money and my work time is one million times better. I've got my boy by my side who's a sweetie. It was mum's birthday last night and we had take-away and champagne and Thorton's chocolates that are so posh neither Bert or I could understand the instructions. Thank god Nelly was there, with her sophisticated vocabulary, to show me and Bert which were the orange and caramel sweets.

It's not even that my life is dull. I just can't blog about most the stuff that I want to. Bert was pulling the lines out of the bag last night and they were hilarious but I can't repeat any of them. Especially the comment he made about me going to the doctor with my sore shoulder.

Back To The Future 2 was on a few weekends ago and I remembered how much I loved it as a youngster. I remembered asking my dad what "to be continued..." meant and when he told me it meant there would be another film I couldn't contain my excitement. I don't how many years there was between the first and second but to me it felt like a decade. In fact, here's a wee clip from it that makes me giggle.

What, Exactly, Is Moral Turpitude?

2009-09-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

Well, since I last blogged I have spoiled my sister's birthday present from her beloved boyfriend, I've been dropped on my head whilst participating in a bit of 'Eccky Fun' (not as fun as it sounds) and have been working two jobs. I have to be just about the luckiest chick in town.

The dropping on my head incident left me with a bad shoulder. I think my head sunk right into my neck and that's never a good thing. I was drunk at the time. That's twice now I think I've avoided paralyzing myself with the aid of alcohol. The other time was when I fell from the basketball hoop. Alcohol relaxes your muscles so your more bouncy i guess.

Anyway, what else, what else? Nothing really. I'm getting prepared for my travels by learning Spanish and my copy of the Rough Guide to S. America: On a Budget arrived today. Also, the weather has been pure peeesh and I am dreaming of sunny beaches. I went into work the day after mum had me panicked about biometric passports and realised that I can get them there! I thought they were some kind of micro chipped passport with a barcode and you'd have to have your whole body scanned going through customs. But no, a biometric passport is just a normal passport but with strict photo requirements. I did do a bit of research though and learnt that I'd have to apply online for what they call an ESTA (Electronic System for Traveling Authorisation. Check the application out for a laugh! It's the questionnaire that tickles me.

Back Online!!

2009-08-25T11:41:00.000-07:00

I spent a very harrowing couple of weeks there with no internet access for my laptop. I was able to check my mail on Mum's PC but it's not the same as having your own wee computer. I took it for granted. I never realised how much I use the web as an expression of my identity. And as a means of escape.

I briefly got back into old-fashioned writing and I even toyed with the idea of doing a painting. I was put off this notion though when I failed to create a masterpiece with pastels. I tuned my guitar. In the wrong key. So no singing was done as I find it hard enough singing in the right key, let alone the wrong key. It was only a few weeks back that I blamed the internet for my lack of creativity but seems it just ain't in me at the minute, regardless of external factors.

Really, I could have used my internet-free couple of weeks more constructively but I just wasn't in the mood to do anything. Everyday it seemed like there was something to look up or something to blog about. Typically, I've forgotten all of it but I do know that I need to research biometric passports as mum's put the notion in my head that they won't let me into New York without one.

And here is a link to me da's flickr which, no doubt, will be plastered in photos of Z's babby in a few months time. At the minute you can see a piture of the delicious hot waffles and ice cream we had at the waffle House in Norwich. Hmmm.

The Boy On The Shoestring Hammock

2009-08-14T01:27:00.000-07:00

I woke up under a dark sky. Two cherry trees were illuminated by the light of a star. A shoestring was tied from one tree to the other. There was a boy lying on the shoestring hammock. He smiled and the star shone brighter.

"Come, come lie with me" He said.

"But you're lying on a shoestring, there's no room for me"

He held out his hand to me, "Come".

The scent of cherries filled my nose. I felt a warm sensation like silk against my cheek and honey down my throat. He wrapped me in his arms and we spun round and round and round. We laughed like two kids at the playground. The ride stopped and we melted into the calm. The trees hummed a sweet song, lulling us to sleep. When we woke I asked where we were.

"We're here" said the boy.

"But where is 'here'?"

"'Here' is where we are" he said, "And 'here' is where we'll always be"

Fusty

2009-08-04T11:32:00.000-07:00

I love aweets, I really do. But I should've known better than to go to that shop and buy a 20p mix-up. I'm pretty sure those sweets have been there a long time. They tasted fusty* and they are ridiculously overpriced. A penny sweet costs 2p, a small refresher chew costs 5p (I don't know what it's RRP is but they ain't worth 5p). They sell single malteasers for 4p!!!!! These malteasers obviously fell out of their packaging in 1987. I love malteasers but I wouldn't eat these ones if you paid me let alone charge me 4p for the privelage of suffering from food poisoning.

Still, I ate the mix-up and now I'm waiting for the hallucinations to kick in, like when Lisa was dared by Bart to drink the dirty water at Krusty Land. I hope it's not a bad trip. I have visions of Willy Wonka and his singing oompa loompa's.

Tonight I sort of gave up on driving. I lost the head with it last Thursday and could not be tempted out tonight for love nor money (well, definitely not love, maybe money). Mum used her maternal cunning on me though and before I knew it I was out in the car, for a wee while anyway. Y'see, Bert's a good teacher, patience being his strong point but it was good for me to get a female perspective on it too. While Bert had explained to me to feel the bite when you let off the clutch mum had said listen for the car to let you know it's ready to go. I must find it easier to listen rather than feel because I was starting the car no bother tonight.

Oh aye! I started my new job today. It was busy enough, which was good because I was able to get stuck right in. I hate hovering about in a new job wondering what to do. Obviously it's a nice way to start because I already know some of the people I'm working with so there's plenty to chat about. To be honest, I'm just glad to be working in the land of the living again. Working in that wee shop on my own fried my head more than I realised.

*Fusty (pron. foosty) - old, out of date, rotten, covered in a layer of mould, off.