One thing I’d forgotten was how much fun he was while he was sleeping…

The second night in China:

Sleeping on my side I am woken suddenly by himself firmly shaking my shoulder. As I came around I heard him saying something. He was telling me off. I assumed I’d been snoring again; he hates my snoring. But no, it went like this…

Him: I can’t believe you were smacking me off!

Me: Uh? What?

Him: I can’t believe you would do that. Giving me drugs! Smacking me off!

Me: Do you mean “smacking up”?

Him: Eh, no! You drugged me & MADE me go to work. You smacked me off! Smacked me off & made me go to work!

Me: Erm, ok. Sorry about that

Him: Hugged me & carried on sleeping

Later in the holiday

Again, I’m happily sleeping away when…

Him: I can’t believe you did that!

Me: Wha?

Him: And right in the middle of our lovely friendship too

Me: Are you asleep?

Him: And NOW! Now, it’s just ME and Nick McGivenivenivney!

Me: (laughing) Yup. Still asleep.

And so, I’m home now & getting used to having the bed all to myself. Missing the midnight comedy shows though.

Mr funny Man

When I’m stressed I fret. I’m often considered overly pragmatic but underneath I’m fretting like a… well a person that worries a lot I guess.

The Boy, however, has an uncanny knack of being able to make me stop & get a bit of a grip. From almost 6,000 miles away he’ll tell it to me straight & make me feel better.

He calms me. He’s annoyingly good at it. I don’t like being wrong. Or being “looked after”. My, not inconsiderable, pride hates it. I really rather like it though. Annoyingly.

I am a fuckwit because I get nervous about admitting that I’m happy . It’s as though, if I actually say the words aloud, it will somehow draw my happiness to the attention of some mystical being who has a really twattish grudge against me (probably because a) my hair’s way fucking cooler than theirs and b) I don’t believe in their existence) and that they will somehow reap vengeance upon me by turning things to shit.

I’m not a pessimist or anything, quite the opposite. It does, however, seem that I have an innate ability to worry. In an ideal world, this would mean that I was always annoyingly skinny. Living life on my nerves and all that jazz; but life, even when it’s brilliant, is just not that kind. Worrying makes me fatter. I don’t need to be any fatter. In fact I’m trying to get less fat, so there’s reason No.2 to stop the worrying about being happy.

Sometimes though, I give myself a swift (metaphorical) kick in the nads and tell myself to stop being such a cockweasel, and just be glad for what I’ve got. And I am. Annoyingly so, probably. I could pretend I was sorry about that, but frankly I’m too busy doing the Happy Dance to worry about people being annoyed about my big, ridiculous, smiley face.

So there you go. I’ve said it. I am happy.

(Rumours that I am currently partaking of several, farcical, surperstitious, “luck bringing” activities are totally unfounded by the way

The boy, the roof garden, the view & the moon

And oh yeah, I’m blogging again & shit.

They’re a bit shit really aren’t they? Knowing the weekend’s over & you’re back to work in the morning. Combine it with a case of “The Fear” after a heavy session on Saturday night and yeah, Sunday nights are a bit shit.

I was all tucked up in bed, nice & early last night when my average Sunday night turned into a pretty bloomin’ good one. No, not a school-night booty call, but a ping-back to this ‘ere blog, and one post in particular, which notified me that I had made it to the shortlist for the Best Blog Post category at this year’s Irish Blog Awards.

Well, colour me pretty jazzed, but how cool is that?! I am, you may gather, pretty gosh-darn-tooting excited about it. So excited I’m not being sweary… which is, in itself, a little odd.

Altogether there are 7 posts shortlisted in the category, and to say that I am in good company would be an understatement. These are the other posts I’m up against*…

• Grandad – Passive smoking is beneficial
• Twentymajor – It is time to turn our back on the criminal catholic church ltd
• Panti – No more Mr. Nice Gay
• Fatmammycat – Twilight, the horror, the horror!
• Stranded on Gaia – I heard there was a secret chord
• The Voyage – Just as he is

And this is the post that I’m shortlisted for – I Wasn’t Ready.

I don’t really like reading this post, for reasons you’ll understand (or this one, which followed close after). Although I have always been a little pleased with how it turned out, the subject matter still bothers me a lot.

Huge thanks to the judges and indeed the Irish Blog Awards organisers. I’m genuinely a little blown away by a) people thinking it’s pretty good; good enough to shortlist and b) the standard of the other posts in the category. I don’t honestly feel as though I deserve to be amongst them, really.

That’s not false modesty, I don’t do that, it’s bullshit; christ, I barely do modesty really. To which end, I wish all of the others who are shortlisted good luck on the night… but I wish myself a fuck-load of awesomely good luck as well; I’m going to need it apparently.

Happy out!

*(yeah, yeah, me up against a post, fnar fnar & oo la la… but this isn’t one of THOSE posts people!)

And it’s going to get better. There’s so much cool stuff coming up in the next few weeks for me to look forward to, it’s hard not to be a giddy kipper really. What’s on the agenda you ask? Well…

Rugby with Jules next Saturday, in our specially made T-shirts. Pictures of which I shall furnish you all with at some point I’m sure; so that you may revel in their majesty. Even Grace is going to be doing her bit for the Cork contingent & wearing hers too!

Given that one of us ended up vomiting blood & the other got knocked off a stool and subsequently, a concussion after the last match, we’ve vowed to avoid the shots this time though… yeah.

St Patrick’s Day, obviously. Always a giggle

Dan‘s birthday. *bumps* A shoe-in for a fun night.

Then it’s the Blog Awards over in lovely Galway. Which I still need to sort out a frock for.

A visit from my cousin, Nicola.

Last time she came over we danced the night away to cheesy 80′s tunes and laughed like the drunken twats we were, in no small part because of this guy either…

So that’s bound to be a giggle. Girls, you shall be rounded up to join us for some sherbets that weekend!

Then the weekend after, my ma & pa are heading over to see me. I won’t have seen them since Christmas and am already well overdue a dose of parental TLC. By, “parental TLC”, I mean chatting about anything & everything over several pints of stout.

And then, finally at the very end of April, Jules & I are at it again. This time perving over, ahem, I mean watching the rugby down at the Kinsale Sevens. Rugby & seafood & boozing, oh my! There’s rumour of another shirt being acquired for the trip too.

So, yes, lots to look forward to. I’d promise blog posts about it… but I have been unashamedly shit at updating my blog of late, so shall make not guarantees. However, if there’s news that’s worth sharing and which I can share without fearing the wrath of anyone, then I’ll do my best.

Assuming I’m still alive & not awaiting a liver transplant by the end of it all, that is

However, one Sunday a couple of weeks ago, I managed to drag myself out of the house on a typical bleak mid-winters day to go on the first outing of Peter‘s band of merry men, aka The Garden Group. And I was really glad I did as well.

The Garden Group’s inaugural trip was to the National War Memorial Gardens in Islandbridge. A genuine hidden treasure, it’s a really lovely place, which I had no idea even existed (which is the way with hidden treasures); overshadowed as it is by Phoenix Park, which is directly opposite, across the Liffey.

We were given a really inciteful tour around the entire park & gardens by the lovely, and might I add ca-yute, Craig. This is what made the whole trip really interesting, to my mind anyway (the incites people, not Craig!). I’m a bit of a history geek and I’ll happily admit to having somewhat of a nerd-on throughout the visit.

For such a tucked-away, almost secret, and comparably small park, there was so much to take in, I was really bowled over. The design of the park is symmetrical throughout, right down to how the roses are planted in the sunken gardens and the various paths, or more accurately, the avenues.

The highlight for me was learning all about the symbolism that was weaved into the design of the park, from the water fountains which look almost like candles and sit either side of a large stone “alter”. One of the things that I really loved was the trees planted along the main avenue which represented the foot soldiers of the 16th Irish Division – 8 lime trees planted either side, making 16 in total; which are overlooked by 8 holly trees, representing the Generals, standing a tier above.

I could go on and on about it all day (and indeed did at one point… this post was going to be about 17 times the length it is) as there was a story to every area of the park, which fascinated me.

One thing that was disappointing though was that it was February and therefore there wasn’t much colour in the park – not the park’s fault, but the climate really. What it does mean though is that I will definitely be going back to check out the huge range of cherry trees when they bloom in a few weeks and then again in June/July to check out the sunken rose gardens in all their glory.

I loved finding this little pocket of greenery so close to the city centre and it is officially going to be my picnic spot of choice from now on. I’m also seriously looking forward to what the next Garden Group outing might be. Rumour has it the next one’s going to be a corker!

Have a nosey for yourself if you get chance. In the meantime here are some pics that Peter took, which frankly do it infinitely more justice than I was able to do with my crappy iPhone camera. And there are also some extra special ones over on Jenny’s blog too.

oh yeah, here’s one of Craig, for the ladies

Oh yeah… here’s a picture of Peter (that John took) as well. He’s also cute!

Roide!

It’s good to know your limitations.

Along with rap star, I always knew that several things were out of my reach: nurse for only having very limited amounts of sympathy; nanny because I don’t like children really, or rather I don’t like the children I have no personal connection with (not that kind of personal connection!); artist, for being generally a bit cack-handed and lacking in artistic thought and also, perhaps somewhat linked to the rap star thing was being a human beat box.

It’s good to know your limits.

Maybe someone should’ve told this guy:

Worst Beatboxer Ever – Watch more Funny Videos

Or not; because he just made me laugh more than anything else in recent days (except for Stephen coining the term “riding the pigeon”). Yeah, yeah, I know, in joke alert.

Have to say thanks to the guys at Big Mental Disease for finding this gem too. Go and visit their site. Funny it is!

Image via Fffound

Wahoo, it’s Pancake Day!

Everyone loves pancake day. Who wouldn’t? Well, Victoria Beckam probably, as I doubt a carb has passed her perma-pouty lips since 2001, but aside from that, who doesn’t love Pancake Day?!

I know I do.

Will I be giving anything up for Lent? No. Fortunately for me, I’m not affiliated with any kind of religion (though according to the last UK census, I’m a Jedi), so in true heretical style, I like to pick and choose which bits apply to me. Besides, I gave up giving stuff up a long time ago. I’m not a girl who believes in either/or; I believe in “and”.

So, I will have my pancakes and eat them. As for what will be on them? Just lemon & sugar. I’m a pancake purist. None of this syrup/ice cream/chocolate etc for me. Lemon & Sugar all the way. Nommy.

Enjoy yours… however you eat them

Mmmm, pancakes

[Image (c) Onesidezero via Flickr]

Just don’t go mad, eh…

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aczPDGC3f8U

Flirty & Dena

No longer will my desk be so barren. Thanks Fran. You’re a legend!

Happy out.

We were all invited to come along and take photos of things that are happy-making and would capture the spirit of the campaign -- cheering up. Let’s face it, after the snowy, icy, not-gritted shenanigans of last week, we all needed it more than ever!

Given the lovely snowfall of Saturday night it was a perfect day for it. Well, it was in Phoenix Park, the rest of town was less of a winter wonderland and more of a slushy, brown, icy puddle to be honest.

So, where are my photos? Well, that’s a good question. There aren’t any. I got a bit distracted. Mainly by building this…

Image courtesy of Shane Murphy

Affectionately named the Snow Bear of Peace (AKA The Snow Beast) and measuring far, far taller than he looks in the picture. A group of us decided to build him, climb on him and then… well, then we kicked him to pieces & threw bits of him at each other, but we’ll skim over that part.

As a result I was more of a “bringer of the fun” (self-titled) than actual photographer on the day. I’m a maverick. I live by my own rules. That’s just how I role. I also don’t have a camera since dropping mine on the floor.

The pic above was taken by Shane. For more pictures, by those who bothered their arse and did what they were asked to do, then check out the Flickr group. You can add you own to the group too and also stand a chance to win €3,000 for your efforts.

My chances of winning are pretty much shot to shit, but I have to admit that the snowman building was one of the most fun things I’ve done in AGES and did in fact cheer me right up. Add to the equation, Stephen & Kyle (who also made the video below) sliding about on some “found” children’s whiteboards, a trip on the big wheel and a really tasty brunch at Odessa and even gifts (!) from the lovely Kelly at Vodafone, and all in all it was a great Sunday.*

www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIGsyubpREo

Thanks for the invite guys. Happy to be a photographer/performing monkey for the next time, haha!

*Yes, I DID get chicken pox later that day, but it was still a good day, it just ended scratchily.