Big Girls you are Beautiful!

I'm a big girl, size 18 and while feeding my little guy yesterday I saw a video on one of the music channels, it made my day!

I'm writing a post on my own blog about it, but here's the link to the video, it might make you smile!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcRiXOONqf0

It’s neat, it’s weird, it’s Rafa’s goatee beard….

Keen followers of English Premiership football will be more than aware that the real action last season took place on the sidelines with many of the game’s highly respected managers doing their best to re-create WWE wrestling. Jose “The Portuguese Punisher” Mourinho guilty of repeated leg drops on the game’s officials. Arsene “The Strasbourg Silencer” Wenger who needed to be restrained for fear of sharpshooting Alan Pardew. For years Alex “Big Daddy" Ferguson has stuck his red blotchy nose into the business of anyone who’s even dared look with disgust at his leotard.

First blood for the 2007-08 season though goes to Liverpool’s previously subdued manager Rafa Benitez. The Spaniard, known for his ability to diffuse tactics through the medium of interpretive dance ,sowed the seeds of battle this week with a beard that just says “hey scally, get away from me fooking Porsche before I get all Franco on your ass”

Brown is my favourite colour..

This is me cheating trying to make up my 2 posts, anyway, I love brown, its on a subconscious level. If you want to get my attention in a room of 1000 people, wear brown, in small or great quantities, and I will notice you. People always look really well wearing brown. Someday I'm going to have a brown party and I'll invite you all and it will be brown bliss.


mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm........brooowwwwnnnnnn.

odd

I had my first lesbian dream the other night, but I can't remember what happened, I just remember thinking after I woke up that that was a bit strange.

A.W.O.L.

Bless me bloggers for have sinned...

It's been 2 weeks since my last blog... (God, the pain of being a Catholic...)

I had fully intended logging on tonight and writing a light-hearted, and probably mildly witty post about something or other, and which I will save for a future date. It's been a couple of weeks since I've even been on the internet. I'm one of the few people that doesn't have access in work, and my home use involves taking out my laptop, connecting up to my phone cable (no broadband for me), waiting 10 minutes for it to start up, etc. I was reading back on a few of the posts from the past while before I got down to it, just to catch up on what's been happening in the community, and to get me in the mood, when I read one of Midget Wrangler's posts mentioning a fight she'd had with the in-laws, directing to a post on her own blog. I thought to myself, I'll have a read of this, because, frankly, I was very interested to hear her side of the story, having already heard my parent's (her in-laws) take on things. I had no intention of getting involved in the arguement myself, let's face it, it's none of my business really.

It was only when I read the comments, where people called my father some quite unsavoury things, that a sudden rage came over me, and is still boiling in me at the moment. I left my own comment there, because, as much as my father can be really annoying, I am not going to stand by and let him be insulted by people who don't even know him.

It was only when I'd published the comment, and realised that there was more that I needed to say, that I started writing this. I'm not an angry person normally. I'm so laid back most of the time that I'm like a rug on vallium. But I can't abide by ignorance, and I won't let ANYONE say malicious things about my family.

It's only in recent years that I've really come to appreciate them. I didn't speak to my brother for over 3 years from when I was about 15, 'til I was 18 or 19. And it's the single biggest regret of my life. If I got to the pearly gates, and was told that I could change one thing, that'd would be it, no questions asked. And the worst thing is that it was all my fault. But luckily enough, I finally grew up, and things are great between us now. Nowadays, since the births of my niece and nephews, whom I absolutely adore, and now the extention of my family to include my new in-laws, I've come to realise how incredibly important family is. My parents are the people who brought me into this world, and brought me up to do what was right. And, as I know MW and my brother would agree, despite the fact that my family is seriously messed up, we both turned out alright, so they can't have been too far off the mark in their parenting methods. If nothing else, I'd do anything I could, not only for my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, their children, but also my new family on my wife's side. Because that's the way I was brought up.

Don't be too hard on my parents because they like to spoil their grandkids a lot. What grandparents don't? I know that we were spoiled by our grandparents, and I'll probably be the same with my own. The most important thing is that they're family. Don't let it go too long until everything is sorted out, because, like me, you, and more importantly your children, might end up losing out on a few years of their lives.

It's just not worth it.

C*NT

C*NT, C*NT, C*NT(**)

Yep

It's my least favourite word in the world...

It seems to gain in popularity as a word all the time...

It's a lazy small minded way to shut someone up...

It's short, brutal and pointed - as a word...

It's the cheap and easy way to avoid something...

C*NT

Or more properly C*N'T

I C*n't do that...

C*n't someone else do it?

I C*n't be bothered


If one more person says "I Can't" to me, I'm going to kill them...

You CAN and You WILL!!!



(**) With apologies to Twenty Major

The cure for boredom is curiosity……..

I have to start with a small apology. I’m kind of new to this blogging thing, I say kind of because I had one before. Took a good hour coming up with a name for it, registered, started with three posts in two days, was going really well and then I got bored, well not bored more unconvinced by the whole thing. I promised when I got the call from “they who must not be named” to post here that I would make the effort. Two days in and I’ve already encountered my first real lesson of blogging – if you start writing an article make sure you either post it or email it to yourself to post when you get home. As a result my promise of My Night In The Company Of Brendan Bowyer will not be fulfilled until Monday morning.

Instead an insight into how exciting my Friday afternoon is. It’s just gone 5.20pm, I’ve already been up for thirteen and a half hours, due back in work in one having last left the office three hours ago. If I’m lucky I might get home by midnight tonight. Rather than try and have a kip or relax like most normal people would, I’m in the middle of writing a work proposal which for whatever reason just doesn’t want to be waxed lyrical onto the page in front of me. The monotony has just been broken with news on the radio of the most bizarre of products ever to be released on the…you’ve guessed it American market.

Rap star Eve has been found guilty of DUI the dirty jezzabelle – as part of her punishment, along with paying a fine she’s to wear an ankle mounted alcohol detector. An ankle mounted alcohol detector I ask you. How does it work, does it measure for spillages down your trousers or determine by the amount of times she sits on the loo whether or not she’s had that fatal first p**s after a night on the Budweiser shandies? So intrigued was I by the product ,known officially as the Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor (SCRAM I shit you not), that I gave it a quick Google. Am I the only one who thinks wrapping the device around a pint glass as advertising on the site somewhat takes away from the impact as a security/medical product?

I’m suddenly thinking that Jackie Healy Rae / John O’Donoghue translator might not have been that bad an idea….now where did I leave that patent?

Road Trip: Why America's Collective Mind Is Melting

It's because they put people like this in charge of deciding their laws:

"The way to stop discrimination on the basis of race is to stop discriminating on the basis of race."

CHIEF JUSTICE JOHN G. ROBERTS JR., in the majority opinion on school integration.

Sky News

Ok so its Friday, the weekend has almost arrived, the pubs are cleaning pipelines as I type and the sun is attempting to burn away the grey clouds hovering overhead.
So why the title.
I arrived home last night and my mother (who is very tech savy) had written to me in msn, which I leave on all day at home, telling me that 2 people in Spain had been arrested, with possible connections to the abduction of young Madeleine Mc Cann, which is a story which has really hit me bad. I immediately switched the tv on and went to 501 on my sky box which is Sky news.
I knew if anyone would be covering this story, they would, and sure enough once the tv had gone through its startup procedure there they were doing an interview about it with their main reporter on the case.
As it happens the 2 people arrested do not unfortunately seem to have any thing to do with maddies disappearance, but what was reported next....

TIM HENMAN OUT OF WIMBELDON.

Oh my god!!!

Pardon my French but who gives a shit. He was never gonna get far anyhow, sure for gods sake he aint even seeded any more.

This top story was followed by another top story wait for it...

THE SPICE GIRLS REUNION.

Sweet Jesus.

I switched off at this stage cause I personally (and I hope I am not alone) do not find this to be a top story, once again who gives a shit.
All this was happening about 7.35pm, but I thought ok maybe sky have filled the first 35 minutes with "real" top stories, so I switched back on at 8pm.
I was greeted with the presenter saying something about it being 8 o'clock, catch up with all the top stories every 15 minutes. I decided to give Sky their 15 minutes, not only do they report "their" top stories (see above) but you also got the weather forecast, sports news and an ad break in aswell for good measure, then this is repeated for the next 15 minutes.
This made me pause to think for a second.
Sky news repeating format equals the FM104 repeating format.

Am I wrong?

New Stitch and Starve craze!

I was at my Stitch and Bitch group last night (knitting is sexy.....when will people realise?) While we were chatting away, needles clicking, the girl I introduced to the group, (who hadn't picked up needles in a few years) turned to me and said, "you were right about not being able to eat when knitting", "yes", I replied,"but you can still drink!" One of the other knitters joined in then,"but the knitting suffers!"

So it got me thinking, as a stay at home mum with a terribly hyperactive brain I'm always trying to figure out ways I could work while still hanging around the house. I've tried cake making and writing a book so far (cakes were successful but the time and energy involved is huge, writing not so successful, books wind up being about sex... seriously!). So driving home from the group I started thinking maybe there was something in this not eating while knitting thing.

A new diet craze, Stitch and Starve. I'm gonna write a book with a diet plan....no carbs after eight, no protein before eight, nothing with the letter "s" in it.... basically we'll swallow any old crap if we think it'll get us into size 0000 Jeans (that's the size Barbie wears I believe). Then the knitting aspect of the book is a series of patterns - they only come in sizes small, xtra small and well done, you're tiny! So as you knit you can't snack...the patterns for sexy tank tops mean you are working for a goal and the extremely low calorie diet means you've no energy or brain power to question what you are doing.

Now I actually think people will buy this book, in fact I'm sure of it, remember the cabbage soup diet? The grapefruit and boiled egg diet? Pray yourself thin sinner (seriously)? The secret to selling a million diet books is a good before and after picture, now I'm a size 18, so I get a picture of me looking unhappy in my size 18 state....maybe slumped on the sofa eating a tub of Ben and Jerry's, the my after photo would be a size 8 me, standing on top of a mountain in leisure wear, knitting away.

And the best bit is I don't have to follow the diet, I'll just do what the rest of them do, liposuction! Get it all sucked out, sure the credit union will give me a loan (start up business) and then the money will roll in from the books!

Store Wars

I spent my childhood in newsagents and bookstores. Even to this day they're still some of my favourite places to be at any time of the week, whether I'm buying or not. A couple of things happened in close succession last weekend that made me ponder this.

The first was seeing the picture above. While it may not mean much to the non-parents among us the Hughes and Hughes that only specialised in kids books on the top of the Stephen's Green Centre has closed. Shame that. It was the only dedicated kids bookstore I've come across in recent times and always a bit of an Aladdin's cave for the little ones during a trip into town.

The selection of books they had was vast and only really surpassed by Waterstones in Dawson Street and Borders in Blanchardstown. Obviously there wasn't the business to sustain a dedicated outlet and they've moved to a small section in the Hughes and Hughes proper in the ground floor. I hate to think it but beautiful bookstores (outside of a few big notable survivors) are, I'm afraid, a dying breed. Am I wrong?

I passed one of the most important locations of my childhood on the same day - Hyland's on Suir Road in Kilmainham, although that's not what it's called anymore. It was just a little newsagent jammed in between the bookies and the locksmith (both still there!) but every Saturday it was a stop off of choice on the way into or out of town where John Hyland would have all that week's U.S. comics or the likes of Eagle or 2000AD stashed away for me (my love for all those is another post for another day!)

He was a lovely man, a typical corner shop newsagent, knew every detail of everything he sold and a breed that has almost died away. The shop eventually became a Spar and since then a "My Gift". I went in a while back, for old time's sake, and I shouldn't have. It looked like every other convenience store in the land, with a slack-jawed youth behind the counter, and was, as a result, extremely depressing.

What happened to the local newsagent? When he wasn't a Spar or a Mace or a Centra? When it was his (or her) name above the door? When he'd hold back your favourite comic for you, or order something in, or simply know the name of his regulars?

There's a row of shops near where my wife grew up that used to be a haberdashery, a newsagent, a grocery, 2 butchers, a chemist, a discount grocery store, a hardware, a fruit and veg and a chipper. Today they are an endorphin release clinic(!), a Mace, off-licence, 2 butchers, chemist, Centra, fruit and veg and a chinese takeaway. How much longer before the remaining stragglers are swallowed up and swept away?

You can't stop progress.

Whatchacallim

my friend was jeering me about referring to my boyfriend as my boyfriend - we are old v v old. I am in my 30's and he is a bit older than me. Sooooo what do I say..... my Partner? no we are not in business. doin the business maybe but not in business. other half? no my son has that title. So WHAT ARE WE?????

the picture has no relevance to the script its just what I was doing 5 mins ago!!!!

yep and thats not my first. I have only had 2 glasses but I dont get out much!!

I really like exclamation marks don't I?!!!!

Road Trip: A Few Side Glances

On the road for a bit ... at the airport, waiting outside, there's a group of two girls in their mid-20s, both gorgeous...until they pulled out their packs of smokes and lit up. Ten years ago I wouldn't have come close to thinking this.

In the same scene, a guy stands there talking to his friend while taking a drag. He then talks after exhaling in a puff, but somehow there's still more. He does two long, full sentences and wafts of smoke come out from between his lips.

Guy gets onto the plane and reaches down, massages his genitals for more than a moment, and then does a weird cycle of unzipping and rezipping his trousers. While walking down the aisle to his seat. shudder don't wanna sit too far back near him...

Kids behind us are the worst little shits, kicking seats, whining, fighting, the works. And their New York-accent parents could give a shit.

The plane lands and a group of four or five, each about 20 years of age, applaud when the first cries out, "Hooray, we're back in America!" "Whoop, whoop!" joins the clapping which actually spreads over other parts of the plane. What the fuck, were these people held hostage? I didn't realize Ireland was such a downer of a place to use for a trip...cough...

Doors at the airport open, and we're hit by the sweltering heat (30 Celsius?) and humidity enough to make us stop moving for a moment, convinced we'll not be getting enough oxygen. But then we all grin at the warmth we've been longing for at home in Ireland for the last month or longer. The people walking next to us are convinced we're all fucking nuts.

Quickly adjusting to the time difference. Yay!

Phew

Up at dawn to finish packing.

Get to the airport 2 hours early.

6 hour flight (with a 5 year old and a 6 month old).

5 hour (total, stopped for food on the way) drive.

25 minute water taxi.

10 minute drive (again).

Waking up in the house, instead of a hotel, priceless.

Now, if the rain would stop.....

(location, Maine)

Sharing or not

… I’m new to bloging and didn’t post as much as I should have had… I love reading it all and have been pleasantly amused by your blogs - you guys have been great in sharing your lives. I am slow reserved “sharer” – I have plenty of ideas and views as some of you may know this about me but simply found it very hard to share. In saying this today I’m sharing this with you and hope to be able to share more ....
PS.Polka Dot and Atreus please keep on sharing your experience from your second home...

What Now for this SAHP?

It's 6am. I've been up since 4. This is my last day at work.....EVER!!! Sounds dramatic doesn't it? I couldn't sleep at all. There's lots more going on than just stopping work but that's what I'll focus on for this post. I now become an SAHP...yeah yeah no smart comments about always being a SAP thanks very much. I mean a "stay at home person". I'm sure I should link to WIKI here but my internet connection is a tad ropey today and I'm afraid to do too much!
Anyway, to all you stay at home people; what happens now? I didn't want to spout the usual cliches about "loss of identity" but maybe they're true. Maybe I will feel like I have lost something at least. Right now I'm bloody chuffed and a little bit scared! Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow morning and wonder what the hell have I done. Maybe I shoulda thought of that sooner says you!!!

UPDATE: I've just read MW's post on a similar topic. That'll teach me to jump right in!

The problem with starting to blog is starting to blog….

I’m not a great man for making potentially life-alerting decisions. The very thought of being in a position of having to chose Rice Krispies over Frosties or what pair of jeans to pull on in the morning is enough to send me for the Prozac and Anxiety Therapy CDs voiced by Weird Al Yankovic. Imagine the stress I’ve been forced to endure, if you will, over the past three weeks trying to decide the topic with which to pop my proverbial blogging cherry with. Folks I give you a small but possibly important list of the options….

A Northsider on the 46A

One man’s struggle to fit into a world with which he has no relation. Is it possible to reset Microsoft Word to English (Southside)? How many shades of fake tan are commercially available? Would everything of a latitude below the Liffey combust if Katie or Glenda weren’t in the papers? What’s the obsession with “mare”? Do these people live in some kind of false stud farm orientated reality?

Forget ticket prices, hooliganism or foreign ownership – fashionable footballers have really killed soccer.

Remember the days when grown men would discuss with other grown men the days when proper grown men played grown men’s football? You do? How wrong is it so that Thierry Henry’s new range of clothes with Tommy Hilfiger has eclipsed his moving to Barcelona and what it means for Arsenal and the position of English football. I won’t even start about David Ginola or Kevin Keegan’s Brut.

John O’Donoghue goes all Randle Patrick McMurphy on us.

More West LA than The West Wing, anyone want to open a book on the number of Dáil sessions until Richard Bruton is removing the Ceann Comhairle’s bell from Enda Kenny’s small intestine. It’s a reproduction from Lough Lene Castle you know…. the bell not Enda Kenny’s back passage.

Gordon Brown moves into No10

Who did the snag list? Will he change the locks, and will the image of Cherie walking around in her smalls ruin his sex life?

So many possibilities but in the end none of them enticing enough to sit in front of a computer for ten minutes and attempt to wax lyrical about…instead just hours away, my homage to a man who shaped Irish culture but has been discarded to the bargain bin of ridicule. Tomorrow My Night In The Company Of Brendan Bowyer…..

The Curse of the Mummy!

I was talking to my hubby last night, just chatting away about our day, there was a lot of "he said, she said", and while we were talking it occurred to me that there should be a support group for mummys. My husband said there was a report published recently that found that even though people think they have more friends than their parents generation it's not the case. We have more acquaintances for sure, but people don't spend their whole life in the same area now, different colleges, different careers, different counties, different continents and different life choices mean we move away from our oldest friends.Many people would say their "friends" fulfill the role family used to fill in previous generations lives, this is true in some cases of course but not in the majority of cases. Modern technology has made it possible to have easy and cheap travel and communication, but sometimes five euro flights and text messages don't mean there is any depth to the friendships!

What's this got to do with mummys? Well it's difficult enough to make friends as a grown up, but as a stay at home mum, with no workmates to chat to, it's really hard! There are the mum's at the school gates, or playgroup, but no one wants to appear desperate, to be the first to suggest a coffee. It's like dating, no one wants to be perceived as desperate, with no friends (it's not that we don't have friends, but it's the different counties, life choices etc. A lot of my friends work, live outside Dublin or just in different areas).

So my suggestion is this, Internet dating has become very popular and acceptable now, so why not some kind of Internet friendship web site, organise mothers only nights in the local pub? MY problem is slightly more complicated than others, we moved house so the parents at my sons school all know each other from the first days of school, bonding over tears at the school gates, but I only joined them after two years, so it's like a club I don't have membership for!

Women who become mothers seem to disappear from the radar, we are still people. My Hubby's granny is always cooing over my kids and saying, "sure you'd never be lonely with the kids around", but I am lonely, quite often I call my mum for a chat or I meet one of the other mums who doesn't work for a coffee, we need that, I need that!

This is an outlet for the loneliness I suppose, I'm talking to someone, not just singing ABC, hushing the little guy or wishing I was better at Irish as I try to help the eldest with homework!

On Sunday we had a BBQ for our friends who are going to the States for the summer, at one point there were six girls in the kitchen doing tequila slammers, three of which are stay at home mothers, we had great fun (we weren't pissed, we were actually quite sensible, kids were running around in the garden having a ball) and we joked that in future our coffee mornings will be tequila mornings! It would be so funny, "mummy, why are you so happy after your visit to auntie Wrangler's house?"

To America or not to America?

My friends are going (home?) to the states tomorrow, I'll really miss them. They are from Maine, New England and they go to their second home there for 8 weeks in the summer holidays. We don't know each other very long, but I've become quite dependant on their friendship. I think I'm going through a time of transition at the moment, and as a result I think we've become close quite quickly.

Anyway, my friend and her family are off to the states tomorrow, and unbeknown st to me my hubby arranged with my friend so I could visit in August. So now it's up to me, do I go to the states? Leave my weenies (baby will be just four months), travel alone, take time for myself and visit America for the first time. I'm such an indecisive edjit I've asked my mum, my friends, even the yummy's at the Montessori if I should go.

Why am I so bloody concerned with everyones opinions? I really want to go, I'm excited about traveling alone, I'm excited about doing something alone (I never do anything alone) but I'm terrified, terrified about travelling terrified about leaving the kids and my hubby alone, terrified they won't miss me. My husband is being great, so supportive, he wants me to go, I want to go, my friend wants me to go, so what's stopping me?

It's so far outside my comfort zone, the longest and farthest I've been away from home since I've had the kids is two nights in London when my middle girl was the same age my baby is now. But I am a believer in "feel the fear and do it anyway", I just need to act on it!

I've had a major disagreement with my in laws recently (http://www.midgetwrangler.blogspot.com/) and I can only guess what will be said, "she fucked off to America for a week leaving our darling son to cope" ( Jesus, he had a major contribution to the creation of the three weenies!) As if he was some sort of "special needs" father, and he's very hands on, no problem to him coping with the little ones!

So feel free to comment, do you random reader I've never met, think I should put my weenies or myself first? It's now in the hands of the gods, well Blackrock Credit union, if they grant my loan I'll go if they don't it's not meant to be!

Anyway, I'll miss my friends, I've actually made loads of new friends since my littlest guy was born, out of necessity, but this friend is on of the special ones, you feel like you know them forever, rare enough! But a rare pleasure when you do meet one!

Sticker Books

We will be going on holiday in two weeks. Me, my boyfriend and our little dude (age 3) and the fourteen year old (as changeable as the weather) (but thats another story)

As we are staying in Ireland I have been making a little collection of things for my little guy to do when its raining. So while browsing through Play.com and keeping in mind his current passion is for sticker books I thought I would order him a few for the hols. keyed in sticker books and waited in hope to see perhaps some Thomas the Tank Engine or anything about tractors for him and LOW AND BEHOLD in between Spongebob Square Pants Ultimate Sticker Book and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles the Kama Sutra sticker Book. So I guess all the "little dudes!!!!" will be getting a sticker book

Tollet Training In Fallon and Byrne

Went to the trendy food Market "Fallon and Byrne" on Saturday, actually we were in town to go to Lush (yummy, yummy Lush!) as it is presents for the teachers time of year and they deserve lovely relaxing presents! So while in town we popped into the trendy food shop, looking for soba noodles, triple sec and double stuff oreos! Two of which we got, anyone know where to get double stuff oreos this side of the world?

So wandered around this food utopia for a while, hubby had the eldest weenie, I had the baby and the three year old, now we've been toilet training for sometime now, but last week it went up a notch and we are pull up free, only frilly knickers from now on! So I'm debating buying triple sec versus buying Margarita mix and my little princess says "mommy?" There she is like a little cherub in the middle of the fresh food department, in a puddle of wee!

Quick as a flash I whisked her up, now single handedly pushing the pram and holding her in the other I tried to find my hubby before the security guard threw us out (yes they have a security guard in a lovely grey uniform) , I found my husband, gave him my stuff to pay for ( I decided on Triple Sec), and got outside to change her pants.

My husband and son followed us out, he was horrified that she'd peed, but we are really being positive (see my other blog www.midgetwrangler.blogspot.com ) he was even more horrified that she had just weed in the aisle in Fallon and Byrne, "what if an old person slips in it?" he asked, "Well" I replied, " there are no old people in Fallon and Byrne, and if they are there they are rich enough to have health insurance!"

I know I deserve to rot in hell, but I think it's funny, some rich bitch standing in the fish department, asking "can you smell ammonia?"

Back in time

In work this morning my friend came in after me (I am always punctual!!) anyway the first thing I noticed was the smell!! not nasty but she was wearing WHITE MUSK from the body shop. Dear God it is about.... suffice it to say it is a hell of a long time since I wore that. I was thrown back in time to somewhere in the mid 80's when all I could afford was white musk (oil so it lasted soooo long) God love her but I spent about an hour going on and on about the memories, the discos, my black lace fingerless gloves and my puff ball skirt, the slow sets, the ghetto blasters, the fact that I could absolutely never wear my glasses to the disco or I would never get asked up! and all because she wore white musk. She is 22 she had no idea what I was on about. (I am almost old enough to be her Mother) well ish. So tonight I am making her an 80's cd as a present / penance

Hyperlinking in Comments

For those that my not be HTML savvy posting links in blogger my seem a bit of a head wreak. So I will attempt to show how easy it is.

If I was posting a comment like for instance:

"well I totally agree with what you have said but you should check out the For Nine pounds blog for their opinion on this"

and I wanted "for nine pounds" to be linked you would enter something like this

"well I totally agree with what you have said but you should check out the For nine pounds blog for their opinion on this"

To do this is quite easy and applies to any post or comment. I will show how in a few
steps

1. This will show the first bit of code needed using the same example above

well I totally agree with what you have said but you should check out the

<a href="

2. the next thing you must do is enter the web address you wish to link to

http://forninepounds.blogspot.com/

3. you must close the code now and write down what words you wish to be linked

">For nine pounds

4. and lastly you have one final bit of code to enter after the words and thats

</a>

5. then carry on typing for example in out example

"blog for their opinion on this"

So to end todays lesson

<a href="url">Text to be displayed</a>

No TV and beer make Something something something...

Can't work that darned hyperlink thing in comment so for Polka and all interested:

Sideshow Bob

Studio 60

And don't get me started on Studio 60 being cancelled.

Grrrrr!

So many questions, so who cares?

A number of questions came up in my head over the weekend that are best illustrated by pictures.

Why, oh why, are 99% of men's shirts either white, blue or blue and white stripy. This is my dry cleaner on Saturday as some stuke (without a ticket, of course) tried to describe the exact shade of blue and type of stripe his shirt had to the poor girl behind the counter.

I have a couple, it's true, but I've always resisted them in favour of what friends have called "flamingly homosexual" shirts. There's a thin line between that and "big fat party animal" you know.

Why is there an enormous queue here, in the St Stephen's Green Centre, for the only pay toilets I know of in the city? Is it the old "well it costs more so it must be superior" deal? Do they sell heroin in there on Saturdays? Is Justin Timberlake in town early looking to be serviced in cubicle number 4? Who can tell.

And finally, how in the name of a good and wrathful God did I ever end up learning piano accordion here, in Nolan's School Of Music. For 2 years. It still looks the same today.

Answers on a comment box.

Light Opera

I've noticed that there are more than a few people in my "circle" that reference light opera and musicals in casual conversation. For example, a friend was returning from a lovely trip to Iran. He asked the flight attendant for some London Pride, and the flight attendant broke in to Gilbert and Sullivan. Just now in our living room, the partner referenced The Music Man. I routinely mention "I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major General" whenever I can, but I'm a former theatre geek and theatre arts major. It does help when it's also mentioned in an excellent tv show.

Anyway. What's your favorite light opera quote?

(will it help you all to kow that I've had more htan a bit of wine tongith?)

Crown it #100 !!

Oh yeah? 69 may be more fun, but 100 is raw untouched posting CASH, baby.

What age are you in your own head?

Someone Living was blogging earlier about his first grey eyebrow hair. This really got me thinking about age and how we all see ourselves. No-one actually thinks they are their own age do they? You know when you’re talking to someone and you say “blah blah happened about 5 or 6 years ago…” and then you realise it was more like 20 years ago! What age do you actually think you are in your head? I think I’m about 27 and actually I’m 35.
I was shopping yesterday with my teenager and found myself ooooooogling and aaaahhhhing over things that look like this:


When really I should have been in M&S granny department looking at things like this:




What's even more upsetting is that I'm 147 on Mercury!

I hate grass.

Yes I hate the green green grass of home.

I am lucky to own my own house, and it has a garden, well 2 if you count back and front. At present I have done very little with said gardens, because we will be extending out back at some point soon, so there aint no point landscaping it etc, so what do I have, grass, grass and more feckin grass.

So I spend the summer cutting the stuff, only for it to rain during the week meaning I have to cut it again on my weekend off. It never stops growing, but why oh why does it have to grow so friggin quickly.

Bring in the concrete!

The second-last betrayal

I have my first grey eyebrow hair.

How am I supposed to deal with this? My wife is calling it blonde but it's a bit late in the day for that.

I still wear jeans every day, don't own a cardigan, have never played golf, own more than one pair of Converse, go to the occasional gig/festival, recognise the vast majority of acts on Sky music channels, have a Bebo page, don't own a suit, conduct most of my relationships through electronic means of communication and am, as I type this, fairly lashed off my head watching the Killers live from Glastonbury and yet this is niggling me more than it should.

Grey hair isn't a real issue. I've had them for years. Grey beard hairs also been around almost since I could shave, but this?

What's next? Grey pubes?! That would be the last straw for my still fleeting belief that I'm not old.

It's almost disturbing me as much as this did.

It rained a lot yesterday

Didn't it?

"Delivery for Ms. Wrangler"

As regular readers of my own blog know I'm lucky that I've managed to retain my interest in sexual congress with my husband even after three children and seventeen years of a relationship! This is in so some part due to my love of accessories, (I'm a big girl, we accessorise!) I don't do designer clothes (or they don't do me, I'm size 18), I don't have a designer buggy in one of a million colours, but I like to buy sex toys.......I admit it, I'm not ashamed, it's fun to dress up or try something new, bondage or PVC or some good vibrations!

Now this isn't some sad "Bitter Moon", type last effort at keeping the passion going, we've always been like this, my partner is as excited as I am when my packages arrive from the Internet site I have my credit account with ( yes that's right, I buy the with my personal account!). So, on Thursday when a package arrived we were delighted and that night we had a hugely enjoyable evening, then yesterday yet another package arrived. Now I ordered the vibrator because my rabbit had broken and it looked like a good substitute, oh how wrong I was!

Please look at the video, with the audio on and tell me if you could possibly get aroused!

The video is here, listed as Close Encounters of the Bedroom Kind

I didnt read the instructions so this prob wont work

Eh Hi

New blogger (is that what we are called?) I am new to this blogging
I have no idea what to say. To introduce me I am PiP. I am having great difficulty typing as I got new glasses today and feel about 6ft tall (I am bout 5, 3"),
excellent saved by the doorbell
will post properly when actually have something to say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When frat houses shop

We had groceries delivered to the house the other night.

They almost entirely consisted of:

Beer

Limes

Cajun Steak Seasoning

Kahlua

Lemons

Mustard

Tortillas

and

Baby Formula

Wonder what the delivery boy makes of us?

So many subjects, so little time

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. I've started typing on 5 different subjects but can't make up my mind which to go for so I'll start with a poll.

What song/piece of music would you like to hear as your last in this world?

For me it's Beethoven's ninth symphony.

The Polar Opposite of Good Customer Service

Customer service has reached a new low: if you complain enough on your blog about lost luggage, adolescent employees involved will decide to show you who's boss---by harassing you with "anonymous" subscriptions to gay dating services. It might work unless you happen to be a prominent blogger in Ireland, who is also technically savvy and can read an IP address. The company even served him with papers to remove his blog posts---pushing free speach to the fore and keeping the odds firmly in favor of the friend and not the foe.

Mannys

I see Jade Goody has been the victim of theft by her male childminder or mannys as I believe they're called. I was listening to panelists on a radio show discuss this yesterday and the two female contributors indicated that they wouldn't be in favour of a male nanny. So what do you think? Would you have serious concerns and refuse outright to consider a man to mind your weenies (as MW calls them!) or is it a case of the right person for the right job?
My instinct is telling me that a male nanny would be great for young children with tonnes of energy! As opposed to someone like me who may want to wrap them in cotton wool and protect them from air. I don't know why I think that, I suppose it's because I imagine men care less than women about how clean the kid's trendy new clothes are or the effect that super-sour-skittles will have on the mood of a boisterous 5 year old. Maybe I'm being completely sexist and falling into stereotypes but feel free to tell me!

(Woohoo, my first post out of the way.... now for the pressure of the difficult second album blogpost).

I'm Coming Out

Hi. My name is Polka Dot, and I'm addicted to liquorice allsorts.

I can tell you when it started. When I was still pregnant, I had a horrid pregnancy. Anything I could eat, I would, because I was eating so little that any nourishment was good (seriously. I lost 35 pounds in 6 weeks cause I wasn't able to eat, or if I could, it would make a return visit. I was sick every day of my pregnancy, starting the day after taking the test til the morning I gave birth.)

One night, along about 8 months, I looked at the partner and said "Honey. I need liquorice." The local newsagent (24 hours, bless!) was out of liquorice, so he bought me Sambuca. I did two shots, and it curbed the need. But it didn't go away. The next day, he bought me a bag of allsorts.

I had never had such a delicacy. Oh my. They were quite good. So good, that 7 months later, I still have 'em. And not in a good way...I mean at least a bag every 2 days. Oh yes. Oh heavens. They are SO good.

So I'm coming out of the (candy) closet. Just sayin'.

Wire, Wire, Burning Rights

I went into Ulster Bank this morning to wire some funds to a family member who's in a bit of a crisis. The nice bank employee came back to me with my completed form saying, "We need you to fill this part out." The Description of Payment box had been left blank, since I didn't think it mattered. "You have to say why you're transferring the money." She looked at me expectantly, holding out her pen. When I described why the family member needed the funds, the girl looked a bit puzzled.

I asked, "How about I just say, 'Gift for...'?"

With a clear sense of relief, she nodded aggressively. "Yes, yes, that sounds great."

Back at home, I've not yet found anything saying that a bank has the right to demand this information. Maybe it's going to be used for wallpapering a room, or buying that large collection of stuffed shark hand puppets. The industrial-sized container of condoms for that weekend exploring your true self. Whatever.

Does the EU allow this sort of demand for detail?

Has anyone seen it?

My voice, I mean. I appear to have lost it. MW will know that I've had a wretched cough the past few days...and it has taken my voice with it.

There will be a few people on this blog secretly happy with that :-D.

Welcome to October

Why am I still wearing a jacket in the middle of June?

Why have I had to put the heat on at least twice this week?

Why did I get drowned like it was Monsoon in town last night? (OK, that was due to me having a congenital fear of umbellas)

I know the answers to all these things. Call them rhetorical if you will.

Happiness requires a level of ignorance!

My other half and I were having a talk this morning while I dropped him into work, he was explaining that all he wanted was to be happy, to which I replied, "Happiness requires a level of ignorance!" Thinking that would either (a) shut him up, or (b) escalate the talk to a row. He went for another response, "write a post on the blog about that", out of the car he hopped. So I thought about this statement, I looked at my two month old, wondered is he happy? He has very little self awareness of course, if he is hungry, wet, dirty or tired he's unhappy, but if he's not those things he's not happy, he will giggle if I kiss his tummy, but I don't know if that means he's happy.My two year old is upstairs now playing with her little friend, they are happy now, but in 20 minutes when I have to send her friend home she'll be distraught. Meanwhile my eldest is at a pool party, probably having a ball right now, he'll be tired and cranky when I pick him up!


I'm wondering what happiness is? How do we define it? Is it a feeling of well being, is it the opposite of sadness, or is it just a catch all phrase? What does it mean when we say I just want to be happy? Is it a naive desire? Is it a childish phrase? What if the things that make us happy make other people unhappy, do we want happiness at all costs? How many of us are "happy"? How much of the time are these people happy for? So why did I say to my hubby I thought some ignorance was required to be happy, well, my daughter is having a ball now, if she thought about the impending separation from her mate she'd be miserable, or that her room is now a tip and she'll have to "help" me clean up (her happiness depends on my unhappiness in a way, Happy kids = Messy room + unhappy mum).



I asked my husband if he thought many people he knew were "happy", he agreed that they didn't appear to be, the older we get, the more people rely on us, the more pressures there are on our shoulders (in other words when we grow up) it's harder to be happy! Happiness to me is a sense of lightness, which I do experience daily, my baby smiling (or stopping crying when I pick him up), My son turning into a man , surprising me with his intelligence and kindness, my daughter's innocence and joy at the things I take for granted, spooning with my husband, eating a nice meal I've cooked for my family, making someone laugh, making someone proud,these things make me happy.

But I still don't understand, "I just want to be happy", I think it's impossible, "JUST" to be anything, I'd love to meet the person who is just happy, is ignorance bliss? With the availability of drugs to change your mood now of course it is possible to be happy all the time but is that happiness? Or just an absence of sadness?

Getting to know you

Today's group exercise is this:

Tell us one unusual thing you know about someone else who writes for the blog. You can't identify them, their nickname or how you are connected to them.

I will, as always, be glad to start.

One of our writers once drank a six pack of promotional citrus Fosters that had sat at the bottom of my cupboard for months. Everyone else who had ever been offered it had declined.

Your turn!

Back breaking work

Following on from Trigkidnometry, I've learned that the younger a child is, the more crap you must tote around with them.

OPBB (Old-People-Bashers Blog)

I've discovered that I have a problem. I have started to incite dislike, and even violence, it seems, in old people. Yesterday I posted a blog about an odd comment an old man directed at me on the bus the other day. I have yet another disturbing incident involving an O.P. to report. Just yesterday I was walking down Charing Cross Road with my friend Nena. We were laughing and joking and wearing brightly coloured A-line skirts, having just been to a swing dance lesson. Out of nowhere I felt something hit the hem of my skirt and catch me on the back of the knees. I turned around and standing there was an old man in a checked shirt and hat, and holding the offending article, a walking cane. Well, my first reaction was to burst out laughing, the incident was so bizarre. The O.P. grunted something but it was indiscernible and myself and Nena stumbled on past in fits of laughter. It was funny at the time but I'm starting to worry that this is the beginnings of a disturbing phenomenon. What sort of a world are we living in that a young person can't walk down the street for fear of being whacked by an old person with a walking stick!? On top of this I have just been reading Shanachie's blog entitled 'What is wrong with old people'. Well, 'A lot' it would seem is the answer to that one. I would like to forward the motion to have a blog specifically set aside for old-people-bashing, OPBB. It is socially frowned upon, I have found, to actually physically bash old people in real life so it seems that blogging is the perfect way to vent this frustration and therefore reduce the risk of actual violence being called into force in day to day dealings with geriatrics. Who's with me!?

So few good movies

Watching The Big Sleep tonight, it struck me how incredibly good the dialog is---and how rarely you find something like this today. Films are drowning in CGI and enormous panoramic shots of fields filled with hundreds of people. Actual story content is falling by the wayside, being replaced by screenplays with pages and pages of setting, but lacking any character.

Is it because the writers aren't being paid enough---or, more to the point, they are fairly inconsequential to the success of a movie these days?

Apologies to the group :(

Hello all!

I am just writing a quick post because I am going to be kind off absent for the next week or so.

I have the honour and joy of working in retail and it is that stupid time of year again where we lower prices and everyone decides to buy feckin everything even though they don't really need it.

I am working 8am till 12pm for the next few days and really cant see myself being able to post anything worthwhile bar a mumble or two if I am lucky. We have preparing for this since Saturday so I have been a bit wiped and getting out of my box on a billion vodkas on Saturday night did not help my posting abilities...(I shoulda brought Polka along!!)

Here's the funny thing. I have been neglecting my own blog as this is way more fun and I am kinda sad that I will be absent for a few days. Whats the story with this blog!! Its feckin great fun!

So anyway. I will post if I can and comment if I can but I hope you all understand if I go quiet for a bit :)

I will end with a question.

Why are umbrellas so feckin useless when its raining?

Celtic Tigre Generation

Has anyone noticed that one in 5 women walking thought the streets of Dublin is either pregnant of has a newborn?! It seams they are a result of the Celtic Tigre boom “The Celtic tiger cobs “!
Is this is the New United Europe ?! (USA comes to mind) … our little Celtic cobs will be talking how one of their gran- gran- gran- parents used to be Irish and other gran- gran – gran from Pakistan, Vietnam or Poland…. Is this good or not so good !??

Does anyone know what this means?

Hello,This is my first blog ever so I hope it works! I don't really know what to write about so I thought I'd use this opportunity to try to find out the meaning of a phrase which was directed at me yesterday by a total randomer. Context is always good when trying to figure out the meaning to something so here's the story: I was sitting at the window seat towards the front of the No 189 bus as it inched its way in the traffic along Kilburn High Rd yesterday evening. The bus stopped outside Sainsbury's and a man who was blind boarded the bus, followed by an old man, I'd guess he was about 75-80. The first guy sat in the seat beside mine. The old man was making his way down the aisle. His face was knarled and he looked like he hadn't smiled once in the last 50 or so years. Nonetheless I decided that he probably needed a seat more than I did. I couldn't see behind me to check if there were free seats further down the bus so I looked at him and motioned that I could give him my seat if he needed it. I didn't want to move if he didn't need it cos I'd have to disturb the guy sitting on the outside seat. The aul guy shuffled along til he was level with my seat, twisted his shoulders and neck towards me (must have had arthritis or something cos his head didn't seem to turn independently of the rest of his body) and spat out the words 'If ye had any brains you'd be dead', then continued on down the bus. I'm not completely oblivious to tone and I did gather that this wasn't meant as a compliment but I don't actually know what it means and I was wondering if anyone else has ever had this phrase said to them and why?! I would also like to say that that is THE last time I will EVER offer a seat on a bus to an old person, they are bitter and twisted and have no respect for the youth of today. Grrr.

Group exercise!

I will be grading you on style.

What would you title your autobiography?

Answers in comments please!!

yet another cunning plan..

I had an idea over the week end to dig out pictures of past holidays going back 15 plus years and find a picture of myself from each and put together a collage or presentation to see how I've aged over the years. I imagine it will make me feel real old but will be interesting nonetheless. I will report back in due course if I ever get round to it.

Inchoate Rage

Yep, that's what I said...

Inchoate rage...

It popped into my head... the phrase, not the emotion...

And I struggled to

a) remember where I'd heard the phrase before

and

b) Describe exactly what it meant...

Quick, to Google...

A short search later and I find that Inchoate means in an initial stage, or imperfectly formed... I guess it's sort of a semi articulate rage - where you can't quite explain how or why, you're just angry...

Grr...

Anyway, while searching I remembered where I'd seen it first... In the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - an odd, extraordinary, multiple trilogy, involving a leper as it's hero...

Yep, a leper, as hero...

It's both better and worse than it sounds... In fact, I must read it again...

Short version, I'm in a bad mood...

Long version, now you have a new word, a book recommendation and the same twin mystery that has plagued me for years...

a) How to pronounce inchoate

and

b) How to sneak it into a casual conversation (or a blog post)

(woohoo, mission accomplished...)

No. 2

1984

Mr Pink was asking recently for our lists of recommendations, books, movies, sexual positions, that sort of thing. I did ponder my top ten food/sex combinations, but then i realised I'm a bit like a broken record at the moment (something by Salt N Pepa perhaps or a 70's porn soundtrack), and my post baby hormones have me like a pubescent teenage boy thinking about sex constantly....not fun all the time, I've run some red lights, husband suffering from exhaustion, blog readers suffering from information overload! So I really couldn't think of anything, these lists are always a bit laddish, lads like lists that they don't have to do anything about. Top five lists remind me of "High Fidelity", and when I read the book first i remember sitting, many drinks to the wind, making list upon list about the most bizarre things.

So to 1984, our sky box is acting up, it's fine one minute and I start to watch a movie,in this case 1984, then it sticks and nothing works....I can't change the channel, I can't back up to where it was before, it's just there, a still image frozen on the screen. Now 1984 isn't children's viewing so when the weenies stormed into the room I tried to change channel, no luck, I tried to turn it off, no luck! So there they are my three year old daughter and my nine year old son watching John Hurt shagging a very pert young woman in a forest! What did I say? "Don't look!" Why, why are we so hung up? Both the weenies covered their eyes! Managed to get over the debris (including our huge play gym), and turned off the TV at the mains!

Before I was interrupted by the little ones I had been enjoying 1984, I'd forgotten how much I liked it, my then boyfriend gave me the book to read when I was 17, it totally terrified me and blew my mind in one. It has so much relevance to us in today's society, "war is peace, slavery is freedom, etc", I watched about half of it, seeing bits I'd forgotten about (I'd never forget the rats, when i read the book originally I had nightmares about rays). The bit about eliminating sexual pleasure to destroy the family which is the enemy to the state, sound familiar? Parents having to work twelve hour days and commute to feeder towns to keep our economy going!

So Brother, (or sister), I suppose 1984 would be on my list of books (or films if books don't ring your bell), that I'd recommend anyone to experience, maybe I'll think of more recommendations, sure if I do I'll know where to stick it!

Oh! what about squeezy honey and hairy legs?...yum:-}

What is wrong with old people

This is going to be a short yet straight to the point sort of post.

My wife was in the square, Tallaght on Friday evening with my 11 month old in a buggy. She went into Tescos to pick a few things up. On arrival to the checkout she started unloading her basket and a little old lady (around 80ish) started queing behind her.

Heres the really annoying bit, the little old lady then swung her bags at the buggy nearly toppling it over and nearly hitting my childs face and said "fucking bitch"

What the fuck!!!

My wife normally takes no shit and I mean she speaks her mind, but when I asked what did you say to her, she replied "nothing I was in shock". I understand what she means I would have possibly been the same or I might have lamped the cow.

Of course the old biddy had it sussed, she did all of this while the buggy was between cash tills so no one could see, so if my wife had called security or told the girl on the till, no one would believe her, no win situation.

Oh yeah "its all there in the square".

Anyhow to any old people who read this post don't ever ever do that to my kid again, because if I am around, I wont give a shit about your age, you will be taken in hand and dragged to the Gardai, and let them deal with ya!

BTW apologies for the language but this really has me ticked off!

The post in which I reveal I am 12 years old

I just did post number 69..

Tee hee.

Population burns "bewitched" flying machine in sacrifice to Baal

To start this week I though I'd put on my old curmudgeon hat and do a "things aon't what they used to be" post.

To start with I have a quite well hidden interest in art, design and history. Well hidden as they can be seen as a detriment to success in my job, but, as I'm among friends here... Even looking at the shows save on my Sky box now in amongst the trashy Heroes, Dr Who and Studio 60 there's the first of a 2 part documentary on Frank Lloyd Wright, a documentary on people obsessed with 8-track tapes, one on Dali and how maths and physics influenced his work, one on the Musee D'Orsay in Paris, the legendary Sister Wendy's Grand Tour (all from the surprisingly excellent Sky Arts) and Channel 4's Unreported World on a nomadic herd in the Gobi desert. This is going somewhere, trust me.

The only other one left is RTE Two's Planespotting. It's part of their Take Two series where classic RTE documentaries are restored and run during the week in prime time. Well done says I. Anything that gives me an alternative to Britain's Got Talent has to be a universally good thing. This week's Planespotting was all about, wait for it and remember this was 1971, Aer Lingus taking delivery of their first 2 Boeing 747s. This was a huge deal back then.

One of the reasons I love looking back at history is that it gives you a vague idea, when you extrapolate the amount of change forward into the future, just how weird our lives are going to be. In the glorious black and white, men in bad suits and combovers and cailín's dancing at the airport past some facts and figures stood out above others (sarcastic commentary all mine).

In 1971 they had bought 2 of these modern beasts. However because there was no guarantee they could run them all year round they were planning on leasing them in the winter to Trans Carribean Airways.

The interview they had with the guy in charge of Kennedy Airport asked him if there was going to be a repeat of the scandalous recent waiting times there of.... up to 2 hours!

In 1971 an American tourist could get 2 weeks in Ireland, flights, car hire and accomodation for? $290. For $500 you could be President.

US airlines still, at that stage, weren't allowed to fly directly into Dublin, only Shannon.

With regard to the new monster 747s members of the public had been expressing concern. Including one quote "it can't really be all that safe to have all that many people up there in the sky at the same time". They also expressed disbelief at the apparent free availability of fire.

Aer Lingus was the only airline on the world to have on air hostesses, no air stewards. Score one for the ladies!

And, in 1971, they were tring to quell American fears about the Troubles by suggesting it was "isolated to a few areas in the North".

Only 36 years ago gentle readers. What will life be like on our little island in 2043?

War of the mothers!

It's fathers day, so I'm gonna write about mothers! Anyone who reads my own blog knows that even though I've been a mother for nine years I'm still struggling with the ins and outs of motherhood.

Recently I've found myself wondering about the divisions between women, just as every child is different, every mother is different. We seem to be constantly at each others throats. The women who are bottle feeding are the enemies of the women who breastfeed, the working mothers are the enemies of the stay at home mothers and the environmentally unfriendly women who use disposable nappies are the arch enemies of the Eco savvy mother with her organic cotton nappies.

Why?

Why are we at each others throats? When I look at my friends who are mothers we are all different, we all fall into different camps on lots of different issues, but we all have one thing in common, we all want the best for our little ones. We are all handed a bundle of joy, with no instructions, we have to make decisions everyday, about how we are gonna take care of our children, feed them, discipline them all in a manner that is agreeable to our own beliefs and the way we live our lives as women.

None of my friends would judge people as regards the way they live, where they live, their marital status, personal grooming or financial status. Yet we often judge other mothers once we become mothers ourselves. I'll put my hand up and say I do it! It's a horrible thing, I look at my very eco-friendly friend using her nappies that spill the contents regularly and while I admire her for being so environmentally friendly, I'm thinking, "God just make your life easier, use disposables!" Or my acquaintance who works very hard, travels away a lot leaving her two year old to family members and her daddy, on top of her 7am to 7pm creche, I judge her, I really do.

I'm trying not to, I'm trying to be more tolerant. Why are women always enemies? Why can't we all be on the same side? The serious working woman at one end of the page and the eco-friendly super mother (earth) at the other end, but all on the same page? We aren't enemies, we could be an amazingly powerful group if we all joined forces.

Not much worse

Than being out with a few friends for dinner (and more than a few bottles of wine), and having all these great things mentioned and thinking "Hey, I need to blog that!" Then the next day realizing you have no idea what everyone was talking about after about 10pm.

Who's the Man: Special Edition Part 2

(The second part of the article, first published in "Scene City" magazine, June 2006.

For the first time we had a character who was a Doctor Who fan but who wasn’t a geek who wore a long scarf, he was a normal guy who went out drinking and clubbing with his mates and lived a life... okay except in the first episode when he doesn’t “pull” and he goes home, puts on a “Doctor Who” video and rewinds his favourite bit again and again... (I probably shouldn't admit it, but this is something I've done!)

In 2003, just days before Doctor Who celebrated its 40th anniversary, a surprise announcement was made. Russell T Davies, was named as the writer/producer of a new series of Doctor Who, acclaimed actor Christopher Eccelston of “Shallow Grave”, “28 Days Later” and “the Others” would star as the Doctor and former pop singer and the then Mrs Chris Evans, Billie Piper would be his companion Rose.

The new series debuted on BBC1 in March 2005. The stories were scary, dramatic, funny and moving. For the first time we had a Doctor and companion who were seriously sexy! There was bi-sexual companion Captain Jack played by real life ‘mo John Barrowman, a matinee idol type hero from a far future where sexuality is a non-issue. Also added was cosmetic surgery obsessed baddie Lady Cassandra who has had so much work done that she’s now just a piece of stretched skin.

To say it was a success would be a major understatement. The series graced the covers of every major magazine from “Radio Times” to “Attitude”, trounced its opposition (if “Celebrity Wrestling” can really be called opposition) on ITV and won armfuls of awards along the way. A third series, starring David Tennant as the Doctor is almost finished it's run, viewing figures remain high and reviews are hailing it as the best series of "Doctor Who" yet. Captain Jack has gone on to star in the adult (i.e. they've included swear words and sex scenes in the stories for the sake of it) spin-off "Torchwood" and even '70s companion Sarah Jane Smith played by Elizabeth Sladen is getting in on the action with the forthcoming "the Sarah Jane Adventures" which will be aimed at the CBBC audience.

But what is it that makes the programme so popular with gay audiences? It could be argued that the series (especially in its original incarnation) appeals in the same way the Eurovision does. Both have been slagged off in the tabloid press as tacky, low-budget affairs with silly costumes and wobbly sets.

Maybe it’s because gay audiences are not afraid to hold on to a little bit of their childhood innocence as shown by the popularity of movies such as “the Wizard of Oz” or “the Sound of Music” with the same audience.

The Doctor is an outsider. Unlike Captain Kirk he doesn’t have a girlfriend on every planet. He’s witty, serious and he likes flamboyant clothes. He shows no sexual interest in the pretty young girls who join him on his adventures around the universe, – they’re his best friends. He’s non-violent, preferring to diffuse difficult situations with a smile and the offer of a jelly baby. The Doctor is open minded – he doesn’t discriminate against race, colour, creed or sexual orientation. All incredibly important character traits if you’re a young person trying to come to terms with who you are while at the sametime fearing how family and friends will react when they find out that you’re “different”.

The Doctor was, is and always will be a hero. And that’s needed more than ever!

An old mate

I got a call last night from an old mate.

Well, less of an old mate and more a guy I used to work with over ten years ago. He was a genuinely nice guy, a gentle soul that I'd kept in patchy contact with since I left the job but when my phone rang last night if you'd have asked me to guess who was calling I would still have been there in a "Mrs Doyle tring to guess Father Todd Unctious' name in Father Ted" kind of way.

Father Neil Hannon!

Father Spodo Komodo!

Father Ramalamadingdong!

Yes Polka, we all do reference Ted constantly.

We talked for a while and I caught up with what he was doing, how his health was (not great) and how he'd had a recent bout of depression. It only took me aback for a second as its no big deal in the job I do but, it and another conversation I had with someone recently, did lead me down a slightly different path.

You are the only person who has a secret.

You.

No-one else.

It's killing you. Eating you up inside. Possibly even ruining your life. Your child isn't really fathered by your boyfriend, you've stolen something, double-crossed someone, cheated on your girlfriend, enjoy something that's not seen as the norm, spent time in a hospital being treated for depression, hate your parents, any one of the thousands and thousands of things that are part of the human experience.

Anytime I feel like my secrets are weighing me down I go to Postsecret (usually every Sunday when they post new ones) and I feel a little better.

Not so serious

Just thought I'd share one of my favorite pictures of all time. This is in St Maarten..the runway starts justthere. I keep wondering what the people on the plane are thinking when they see the guy who is closest to the camera, but from their angle.

Gift Face

Further to an earlier post, which I could have replied to but decided I wanted more attention (yes it's all about me me me), do my fellow cult slaves have a particular gift face? You know when its kris kindle time and the crappy presents are going round and you know you're going to get something totally unsuited to you but want to appear pleased and are naturally crap at acting but have to put on a performance - so you perfect the 'thanks that's just what I've always wanted' face. The one with the strained muscles and psycho smile. This is why its better to give than receive, because receiving has expectations and responsibilty.

Btw, i'm not a sad fecker in work late on a Friday, I'm just waiting for the traffic to die down.....really.

The night I slept on a bench

Ok, so after a day of frantic voting - and before everyone goes to the pub... Here it is... The bench story

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Like all great stupid stories in my life, it starts with alcohol...

Ah, alcohol, my oldest friend... my semi-constant companion... my long term health risk...

Still though, vodka... mmmm

Anyway, I had been to a birthday party, a 30th birthday party, in Iveagh Gardens... In fact, the whole day had an alfresco theme...

We were having a secret adult picnic... In that we were drinking in the park, which you're not supposed to - along with food and frisbees and sitting on rugs... All the essential components of a picnic...

The drinking part was mainly champagne as I recall... and the party kept going... so when the park / gardens were closing we all returned to the delightful Mews residence of Birthday Boy and his parents, just off Wellington Road...

Birthday Boy's Mother had made equally delightful food - the family wine cellar was open - and the drinking continued...

And continued...

And continued...

Somehow, late in the evening (and frankly I'm starting to wonder whether I've even got the right day in my head at this stage...) there were 5 people left...

Those 5 people...

• Birthday Boy
• Mutual friend of Birthday Boy and Mine
• Mutual friend's wife
• Mutal friend's wife's friend..
• Me

All drunk... As monkeys...

The last drink I remember having was a tall glass full of frozen vodka... If hindsight is of any help, that may have been the "one too many"

We all set off on our merry ways... And this is where I parted company with logic and sense, along with my friends...

It is now, about 4am, it is summer - and it is starting to get bright...

I live a reasonable taxi ride from the city centre... and for reasons that escape me had to be in the city centre at 10am.

Now, theoretically, I could have travelled home by taxi, slept, showered, returned to town...

But drunken monkey part of my brain said... "Wait a second, why don't I just stay in town til 10am... Brilliant"

So, I did...

But everywhere was closed and I was tired...

So, I wandered along from Wellington Rd, across the canal and into a kind of semi square in front of some accountant firms building...

"Ah", I said to myself, "look a bench... I know, I'll just have a little rest..."

So, I did...

I slept on a bench... oblivious to the world, to the thieves, criminals, junkies, tourists, tv licence inspectors etc who might be wandering past....

I was woken by a slightly embarassed security man...

To this day, I cannot explain the process that led me to sleep on the bench... But I drove past the location this morning in a taxi and I wondered "What was I thinking?"

The best and only answer is that "I was tired..."

Give Good Gift

I give good gift. I am *excellent* at gift giving. I mean, I am on the Oprah level (tho not in her price range). This has been drummed into me by my mother (AH HA! Mother posts! All bloggers on some level want to blog about their mothers! This is now the PolkaDot Theory, long may it live).

The stress that I have when presents aren't bought in time, or arrive on time, is immense. I do love finding the right gift for people and having them open it. But the period of time before hand is too stressful for me!

Case in point. Father's Day is on Sunday (oh yes it is!). I have selected an excellent gift for my stepfather, a fan of clocks and books. I order it 2 and a half weeks ago. I realize a week later I never got email confirmation. I look at the credit card statement online. Nope, no charge. So I email said company, who says that I never clicked on the Finish Checkout button (erm, I'm not a n00b. I know how to do an online order, even if it is in your stupid Flash website). So I go again and do it again. It goes through, but the total price in the email is different from the price displayed on the screen. I reply to said email, saying so. Said email bounces back to me, because the email address that the reply-to is set for is "orders@", instead of "order@". No, I'm not kidding. So I fix this, and send on again. I am told that the gift wrap pushed my charge up over the limit, and I was charged $2 more for shipping. That's fine, but it's a different total. Oh, and can I have a tracking number please?

Today, I get an email with tracking number. And a restatement that it was the gift wrap that changed the total. But it's not what was displayed on the damn screen! Oh, and the tracking number? It's invalid. I get to a point where I go nuts and think, I'm not getting nice gifts for people anymore, I give up.

Then someone's birthday rolls around, and guess what? I get stressed cause I don't have a gift!!!

Yes, it's my mother's fault. I'm sure Freud would have a field day with this one.

Post Topics I considered and rejected this morning...

1. People who make me angry
2. Renditions
3. Why I think too much
4. The long term effect of free newspapers on people's awareness of current affairs
5. What is the story with Seamus Brennan?
6. If I wrote a post on rendition, would the American Govt read it?
7. The Things that annoy me about taxi drivers
8. Where is the taxi anyway?
9. How come taxis with Union stickers are ususally the worst?
10. How is it that the American Ambassasdor can sound so convincng and say nothing
11. What exactly will happen now the Greens are in power
12. The night I slept on a bench

All things being equal I should probably just have picked one and written it...

However, in the spirit of the Community of For Nine Pounds - I'll take suggestions and write one later on the topic most voted for in comments...

Yours etc, No.2