Yer dirty Mick!

So - it transpires that the Ginge has had a whole load of minge.




Well done Mick Hucknall. I think we have failed to embrace this man's achievement. I'm aware that his claims of bedding over 1000 women over three years might be total lies - I too dream of topping the Trending topics on Twitter, Mick - but let's assume its all true. *shudder* Let's all take a Motilium and think about it for a moment.

Look at him. Go on, really long hard look. Imagine his sex face. Waking up to that carroty beast of a morning. For those feeling slightly aroused as a result, please seek psychiatric attention. No matter how hard I try, all I can think of is "How drunk would I have to be?", and thus I plan on conducting a scientific study. I'm gonna sit and drink while staring at a picture of Huckers and see how long it takes me to fall foul of his charms. Don't worry, I'll enlist the aid of a paramedic and a stomach pump prior to the experiment.

No matter how seducing his charm and status, I'm still struggling to imagine bumping uglies with the guy. I mean, his music wasn't even good! Except for that Stars one. It reminds me of sitting in a car lot for 2 hours when I was 8 years old. It was the highlight of a rather shit day.

This rate of success surely is testament to his musical success. Simply Red must have been RAKING it in to pay for all the drugs/booze to make those women do the dirty dance with Mick. This is the best argument I've seen against piracy and file sharing robbing artists of money. If I continue "borrowing" my music off t'internet, how on earth with the uglies of the industry get laid? From now on, I shall judge my downloading habits on this theory - hence why I don't feel bad for Rhianna - she probably needs to pay people to keep away from her if anything. And if she comes round, knocks on my door, bitching about the tenner I owe her, I'll sort her out. *Insert bawdy comment here* Its a good thing I don't like Olly Murs, and will hence never feel the need to pay out for his musical dribbles. He looks like he's missing a few chromosomes or summat. Like his face was never unpacked properly. Good thing I'm perfect eh?

Well done Mick. Here's hoping you were sensible, and that you had decent access to wash facilities while on tour. Moreover - congratulations on keeping count, you creep.

Flo Rida

What does he do? Well, he does quite a lot actually. He's much like my Dad - he does odd bits and bobs as they crop up, yet nobody is quite sure what exactly he does. For example, he spent a day in Roundstone, about 50minute drive from home, to pull up plants. In the snow and ice, just in case life wasn't hard enough. I mean my dad, of course, though I'm sure Flo has a price too.
So, wise Oracle (Wikipedia)- what are his musical accomplishments? "Right Round" - with Ke$ha and bits nicked from Dead or Alive. He talked over a bit of Alexandra's (proper) debut single "Bad Boys". I don't know who was supporting who, there. I can only assume some sort of meeting was held:

Agent: "Alexandra, meet Flo Rida - Flo, this is...."
Both: "Um... Hi." *look quizcally upon each other*
Agent: "See these words, Flo? Just say em real quick when Alex here is vandalising all around her. With the vague memory of a nation backing her and your 5 fans and your mum - we'll be unstoppable."

He did some stuff with Nelly Furtado - though who hasn't at this stage. The fact she has a greatest hits is laughable. Is it 2 or 3 sucessful albums you've had? (Actually, its 4. But one of those is in Spanish, and the first one is called "Whoa, Nelly!" which due to its terrible name, makes it automatically null and void).

WAIT - I'm forgetting the classic "Be On You" with Ne-Yo. From the lyrics, I have gathered this is not an Anchorman spoof as I had hoped. Instead, at least I think, its about shagging his short mum.



Anyhoo, the most recent example of Flo's fine work is his addition to the Saturday's 'Higher'. The Saturdays do NOT need tweaking. Had the song been originally recorded and released to contain some of Mr. Rida's babbling - fine. But what bugs me is that the album version of the song has no such input, as is just super without it. Now, upon releasing it as a single, they've crowbarred in an intro and a bridge. Though hearing this well 'ard, well cool rap artiste shouting "una! Molly! Vanessa!" - fairly bog standard names - does make me laugh. (they recorded the video separately too. Another bug bear.)

I do wonder though - does he write these ditties himself? I like to think he has some originality and integrity. Even if it does mean he's tarnishing the lovely Saturdays.

He's got a new album out soon. in case you're interested.

brain power

Its gone 2am, i've been in bed for almost an hour and i have to be up for work in the morning. Yet my brain has other ideas. Its like as soon as i switch off the lights, the simpleton operating the contols in my noggin starts prattling about nowt much in particular.

I didn't help myself reading my horoscope. Even though every sensible part of me (yes, it does exist somewhere) tell me its poppycock, I still check them. And its opened a horrid can of worms. Tonight my brain has gone with the philosophical dilemna of 'do i actually feel such or such a way, or do i think i feel that way cos i should or cos i want to?' indeed, the total emotional numbing effect of medication the last 9 months has not helped, having decided last week I can no longer be fucked drugging away the symptoms of a much bigger problem. Yeah, screw you HSE, I'm having my own revolution. But seriously, i think maybe going cold turkey from the happy tablets mighn't have been totally wise, given my tears at World's Strictest Parents, sick kitties and Florence's Machine and Pink's saddest songs. Gonna have to kart around a multipack of kleenex at this rate.

Twatting

I don' quite know why, and I do not dare try to understand it, but I have made it my mission this evening to get a celebrity twitter mention. This is what happens when I stay in of a weekend, and don't get so blind drunk that the next day my brain function is limited to utilising the remote control and Facebook and my motivation is fuelled only by greasy food.

Getting my stalk on.

Favourite song of the summer?

Favourite song of the summer?

Answer here

Mind Fuck

Did you ever play those silly mind games with yourself? The sort where you challenge fate with silly scenarios such as "if such and such happens before the clock changes, it means one thing or another...". Okay maybe just me, or I'm not doing a great job of explaining it. Most likely the latter, we're all bloody weird.

Well I play it a lot when I have certain issues pressing on my mind, especially when I am otherwise clueless about it. But fate keeps dealing me a rather wonderful set. Just now in fact, though that really took me by surprise. Sure, its hardly concrete scientific evidence of anything, but blimey, it does feel good, warm and fuzzy like a kitten. Its the litle things that make me think maybe life isn't a total bitch.

What a load of twaddle, but I felt like glorifying my joy.

Big Bother

For ten seasons I managed to avoid the summertime lure of Big Brother, with its shiny logos and and rampant nutters and press coverage hogging. Yet, I have fallen at the last hurdle and succumbed to watching the final 11th season. I am hooked. I've even sneaked a few minutes viewing pleasure from the live stream. Seriously, who actually watches that? Other than the poor sods that make it and the person who writes "Rolling News" for The Sun.

I must be going soft, because I think the reason I've kept with it is the blossoming romance between John James and Josie. I don't think I've ever heard myself with such a ridiculously sappy phrase before, I hope this won't become a routine thing for me. But they are so sweet, as sickly sweet as noshing down the entire takings from a successful Trick Or Treating excursion. He is being an utter gentleman, another sentence which rarely enters my head - though not for lack of soppiness, more due to the general lack of it in menfolk. He is a good looking guy, maybe not my cup of tea, but still, he could have his pick of the laydees. What with all the tits-out skinny types floating about, in the early days I figured thats exactly what he'd do. But the bastard has only gone and flung my theory that 99% of men keep their brains in their boxers right out the window. Okay, so maybe I should just include him in the 1% that make my theory a rule and not law, but at the very least he has increased my faith in blokes to reduce the percentage to maybe 95%.

Josie is a champ. Great personality and thats what she uses, she doesn't rely on her looks. I'm not saying its because she can't - by no means is she unattractive - but it is her personality that makes her a genuinely beautiful person. She obviously doesn't think that, she very much doubts it anyway. She keeps referring to her size negatively too, and while she's no size zero, she's hardly morbidly obese!

And so John James falling for Josie has proven that maybe he isn't after one thing. Its proven that maybe looks really don't matter as much to people as I fear, and that maybe whats on the inside really is what matters to people, not double D cup and 0% body fat and having a face thats like summat off d'telly.

I think what I'm trying to get at is that I see myself as being a bit like Josie. Loud mouthed and usually laughing, would talk to the wall and get on well with most people, yet really very insecure about the way I look and really very doubtful of being in any way attractive to someone. So maybe thats why I've gone a wee bit sappy and gooey over them, it is a little bit fairytale. And unlike the Bridget Jones movie, this is real. And gawwd only knows I've had my fair share of Bridget Jones moments. You know, the eating Ben and Jerry's and listening to sad music type moments, not men vying for my affections by wrestling in public sort. Then again I love ice cream and hate confrontations, so its win-win really. But where is my knight in a rather off putting oversized beanie hat? Hmm? Le sigh.

So if he turns around after Big Brother ends and its all a sham, I will start burning men at the stake, or just move into a dingy flat, buy several cats, wear only dressing gowns, and liberally rub myself with cabbage to get that authentic crazy old lady smell and accept my fate. At least I'll stop using hideous phrases like "blossoming romance" - shudder.

Top Of The Pops

I think I'm simultaneously aging while getting younger, hence they cancel each other out and keep me on the linear space-time continuum, yet I feel the effects of both. I hear the Top 40 and despair at the atrocities it holds while bopping along happily with the rest. I wish I was 12 so I could get giggly over Justin Bieber and not feel like I should be on some sort of list.

For example, I've taken to listening to Example (heh heh... ah.) I shouldn't like him. Really, I mean just LOOK at him



You can tell he doesn't drink his beer, but swigs it, and uses "Oi OIIIIIII!!!!" as a geniune form of greeting, and all his trainers are freakishly white. He sounds like he's listened to The Streets album a few too many times, but not picked up any of the wit. But tweak my nipples and call me Francis, but I can't not like his stuff. And I cringe at the thought.

3Oh3 are another gripe of mine. Two obnoxious little titfarts, clearly funded by mummy and daddy, with sod all talent. They aren't even particularly good looking and they sure as hell can't dance, as is painfully clear in their new video.


My favourite part of the video is the lanky long haired one awkwardly flailing his arms about in an attempt to dance while he ooooohhh's his way through the chorus praying for Ke$ha to take over. I have issues with this song other than the video though. Seriously, you're trying to tell me your first snog culminated with hands in pants action? Either you were a late starter and trying to catch up in one fell swoop, or someone has taken advantage of you and you should probably have reported it, or at least have some form of therapy. As for Ke$ha - please, just go home, have a good wash, put a comb through your hair. There must be some whack off her.

Trust the trannies though to do it right. Scissor Sisters new song is quality.

R.I.P. Maxtor Desktop 3000

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Minutes ticked by, still the sound echoed, showing no sign of stopping. The whirring of machines could still be heard if I listened closely. I repeated the same checks again. Still no response. This must be where they get the Casualty sound effect for the life support machines.

I tried to deny it. Left it for a few days, in vain hope it would magically repair itself. When this didn't work, I trawled internet forums for advice, to no avail.

I had to just accept it. My external hard drive had died. Never to be accessed again. Devastated, like I've lost a friend. Melodramtaic? Maybe. Still, friends have extended deep sympathy in my hour of darkness (or rather, silence).

I'm guessing there is about 1000 albums plus various singles, hours of video and tv shows, and pretty much ALL my camera photos from the last 4 years. Gutted.

So right now, my music collection consists of CDs that I bought as far as about 2005, then nothing until my last few weeks worth of downloads, so I have about a 4 year gap in my music. Grr. I really miss lovely Florence and her Machine though, so much so that not even watching BBC Three, which soundtracks everything with Florence, can fill the void. If anything, i have noted they have increased the use of La Roux on their programming.

AND, to make matter worse, I'm sans iPod. Stupidly, i left it in Cork, and won't have it back til next weekend. Woe betide me. I've grown really very attached to my iPod since I converted at Christmas. I swore off iPods many a time, vowing to never fall foul of their shiny charm. However, I was a fool. They do live up to the hype. Only problem is now I'm craving an iPhone. Kick me please. Of course, Vodafone decide now is the time to announce they are to supply the iPhone from the end of this month. Corporate gits, understanding consumer demand and need!!!

http://www.urlesque.com/2009/09/02/urlesque-announces-a-day-without-cats-on-9-9-09/

A whole day without cat related humour? Given I follow LOLcats on twitter, its plain impossible. Will ICanHasCheezBurger lead the anti-coup?

Damnit, cats are funny.


I really want a cat.

I think I’m having a mini life crisis. The sort where you take stock of what you’ve done in life and panic, and wonder at what point did it all go tits up. Or has it gone tits up? AHHH! Why didn’t I do it this way? What the hell did I do that for? Stop that! Do this! Shit shit shit!

Currently my panic is: What happened to my hobbies? I used to do stuff. Be interested in stuff. Know stuff about stuff. 17 years old - I played bass guitar every day, went horse riding and spent a lot of time helping Michelle out with her horses; I obsessed with music and could reel off reams of pointless music trivia. I was known for my love of obscure, unheard of bands. I followed the results of international show jumping and eventing. I played computer games, like Zeus: Master of Olympus. I had written half the school magazine aged 11. I got the best Junior and Leaving Cert results in my school. I won a Credit Union Poster competition – ooh, the dizzying heights.

And now? My spare time is filled being hung-over, on a bus, scowling at tourists, and doing assignments in a mad panic. And Facebooking. Lots. At least I admit it, which is something.

I don’t like to lay the blame, but I will anyway, firmly at the gates of UCC. Maybe not their fault directly, but I think that’s when it started going arseways. I lost my nerdy attributes. Most likely because I didn’t really want to be there.
And funnily enough, the gleaming allure of becoming a Lidl manager doesn’t exactly excite me enough to while away my hours in the library. I don’t know what my plan is really. Will I do a top up degree? Will I try to get a masters? Just what the fuck am I going to do for the rest of my life? Sure, the idea of frequenting the gay bars of Dublin and playing Little Miss Socialite is all well and good, but not exactly practical. Unless the George want to fund my appearances...

So far, my “hobbies ideas” list is somewhat vague... so far I’ve got driving lessons and toying with the idea of going back to horse riding, given I’m moving out of city centre soon. So Daft.ie is a temporary hobby. I’ve trawled through the freebie culture stuff in Dublin, and enjoyed that. Maybe try and get into writing some more. But I need ideas. Any are appreciated! Or I’ll just have to delete my Facebook account in the vain hope it will free up more time*.






*Ha! As if...

They always said I was like my father...

...And I'm picking up a few of his habits at an alarming rate, especially when I spend about only 10% of my year in the same county as him. Up until a few years ago, I thought the resemblance was merely physical - same eye colour and shape, dark hair, and stupidly big feet. But now its getting far more than genetic.

I think I first noticed this strange phenomena in a drunken state. When I return home from an evening's merriment, I appear without much warning, much like dad. In the same fashion, I pop my head round the living room to to assess how much noise it is acceptable for me to make - all while trying to give the illusion of sobriety. I find that this only ever leads to you appearing drunker than you actually are. Regardless of whether people are asleep or awake, the ritual continues in the same way. Proceed to the kitchen, switching on every light along the way, and go straight for the kettle. Now, to ponder what to feast upon. Dad will go for the frying pan or more often, he will try to execute a seriously complex sandwich, requiring the fridge to be left open for about an hour. The added bonus of such a culinary delight is the sheer amount of cutlery and crockery that can be used, leading to an opportunity to make further noise with the dishwasher.
I, however, usually opt for the simple bowl of cereal. I bloody love cereal. But I've become a real fan of the classic cheese and ham sandwich, or cooking sausage rolls for the 10 people in my kitchen at 5am.

This is followed by a return to the living room, and viewing countless, pointless pages of teletext, or since getting Sky, stuff-that-pops-up-when-you-press-the-red-button. The only time I have used that little red button while sober is for MTV2 news and for the Beeb's Olympics coverage because I wanted to watch the showjumping and not two people swimming for 10km. Once drunken-munchies are consumed, its off to bed.

Another shared hobby is watching the deep sea trawler programmes that can be viewed on Sky at any given time. I don't know why I find them so enthralling, I have no interest in the subject, I don't wish to pursue such a career, nor does it affect me in any way. At least dad has the excuse of being obsessed with fishing and such. But they are essentially all the same. The season is bad. The nets broke. They all start bitching at each other like menopausal cranks because they get about 4 minutes sleep a week. The food is shit. They encounter a life-threatening storm. Then all comes good in the last quarter of the programme, they net a cornucopia of fish, the weather calms and they all get home safe and sound for a big sleep. Lovely. Yet it will never get old. Am I alone on this one?

I've always been a social butterfly, a quality I attribute to my dad. Everywhere we go, he knows someone, failing that - meets someone who knows someone he knows. In the last year or so, this heredity trait has really taken flight. Its not the weekend unless I have made a new best friend or introduced a newbie to the joy of "Alrigh' my luvver?". The talent of being able to hold a conversation with a stranger on any topic is proving a valuable one in the world of retailing. Much like being an expert on stuff you know virtually nothing about, like aubergines. I don't have the first clue about cooking them, but I can reel off quite a spiel if a customer asks me; Dad can bullshit his way through a conversation about soccer quite convincingly, though I'm certain he knows shag all about it.

Maybe I've sat on the tills of Lidl for too many Monday and Thursday mornings, seeing people's glee in rushing in at 8am to fill up a trolley with cheap plants and gardening gear (it is pretty cheap...). Or maybe I've inherited Dad's interest in gardening. As a hobby, he is quite sporadic about it. For months - nothing. Then the first bit of sun and he is out mowing the grass, making potato beds, moving the evergreen trees AGAIN, and talking about "sheltering plants" that he believes can be made to create a fort like structure around our measly bit of bog. Every few years, nothing beats a bit of fencing. The man loves to fence stuff needlessly. But living in Dublin sorta puts a stop to me indulging my green-fingered urges. There are some dead flowers on my windowsill, but they look right arty in the starfruit cider bottle.

There is a fishing tackle shop beneath my apartment block... should I ever find myself in there on a spending spree, then I'll know its time to seek professional help.

Exams: A Guide To Procrastination

I have my final exams this week. And that can only mean one thing: An inevitable sense of guilt over the lack of study I've done or am doing. Of course, I'd much rather let my conscience battle this impending doom than actually do something about it, like study perhaps. Besides, there are so many entertaining, yet utterly pointless activities I can distract myself with.

Welcome to the art of procrastination.

5 years of secondary education, 2 (almost 3 - wahey!) years in UCC and now in DBS, has taught me many a valuable lesson. Such as self-motivation and a drive to learn and discover. I've whole-heartedly embraced these skills in finding new ways to put off what I really should be doing.

Given the time of year, exams looming for many, and what with me trying to waste time, I thought I'd share my best discoveries. Some obvious, some which come only after extended (no) study time.

1)BEHOLD! The power of the inceywebs! As David O'Doherty says "If you spend longer than 5 minutes on the internet at a time, you're avoiding something far more important that you're supposed to be doing". Its probably how the internet was invented in the first place. The possibilities are endless; Cats that look like Hitler, b3ta.com, lolcats, tetris (or N-Blox. Its not tetris at all at all), YouTube and of course the curse of Bebo or Facebook... Hell you might even end up setting up a MySpace for yourself.

Which brings me to another amazing way to pass the time. The complete overhaul of your profile on your social networking site of choice. Poring over which shall be your new profile picture, dreaming up witty introductions, and debating whether or not you should admit to your secret love of Mariah Carey in the music section. If guilt is really eating away at you, turn that guilt into a merciless friend cull - deleting the clutter of randomers. Then, with your workload cut down somewhat, comment everyone on your friend's list, no matter how pointless the post. They'll only be delighted, and you've probably done them a great deal in aiding them in their own procrastination.

2) Reorganise your MP3 player - yet another realm of possibilities. Go on a download spree, delete the ones that you've listened to far too many times and have tired of, make playlists to suit every mood imaginable. "Walking through the park of a morning", "I'm having an existential crisis", "Calvin Harris obviously wants me to bear his offspring", and "I'm off to Tesco now" are just a few themes to get you going.

3) Discover your new favourite band/comedian/tv show/celebrity-you'd-molest-in-their-sleep-given-half a-chance. Alluc.org will ensure you need never feel the compulsion to study again, failing that - chortle.co.uk will list pretty much every comedian going. You pick a random name, toddle off to YouTube, et voíla. They may be painful or they might be your comedy epiphany, but you've just killed 3 minutes. Congratulations.

4) Maybe not so utterly pointless activity (they are all worthwhile endeavours!) is cleaning. A timeless classic. That hob is a bit grubby, eh? Get out the Cilit Bang and put on the the marigolds. Put some elbow grease into it! Hell, d'ya know what? Wash the floor. Its a disgrace. So what if it was only washed yesterday? And the bathroom! I can hear the germs from here! BLEACH! I cleaned my room yesterday, and thats really saying something.

5)House perving on daft.ie. Set the minimum at, hmm... say €3.5 million. No maximum. And ta-da! Drool ahoy at pictures of houses that you'll never set foot in, never mind live in. Probably. But, hey, you can dream. My favourite finds so far are:
-Half an island off the coast of Kerry, with lots of dolphin pictures. Sod the house.
-The converted church.
-The castle with a MOAT! I only wish it had a drawbridge.
-Mansions in Kildare which fulfil my childhood dream of having a huge house and a grand estate full of ponies and peacocks.

WARNING: This may prove to be an incentive to study by fuelling your ambition to be successful.

6)Change your dietary habits so meal preparation becomes an elaborate and time-consuming task. You've got exams coming up, you need to stay well fed! Hence your need for 3 course meals. And extended shopping trips to Tesco and Lidl, perusing the aisles. Hint: White sauce needs to be stirred continuously, if you're looking for something that keeps you in the kitchen for quite some time. Or make pizza from scratch. Cook for everybody in the house. And wash everything afterwards meticulously.

7)Look up cheap flights and holidays and daydream about all the wonderful things you'll do. Fiddle around with the dates stubbornly and see if you can cheat those Ryanair bastards into paying taxes only.

8)Start playing Solitaire, no matter how ridiculously hard it is with a laptop touch pad.

9)"Organise" your notes. This preparation to study will fool you into thinking you've actually done some study. Leading of course to a well deserved tea break.

10)Write a guide on procrastination.

25 things

I've stolen this, shamelessly from Facebook. But I like it. Its way harder to come up with 25 things off the top of your head then I originally thought...

1. on May 14th, I'll have lived in Ireland for 10 years

2. I had an imaginary friend called Michael the astronaut as a kid.

3. I've met/harassed the Revs 5 times, getting that little more memorable with each encounter.

4. I love a good wildlife documentary, particularly if its about the deep sea. Also, I love the programs about ocean trawler ships.

5. My feet are horrendously big - size 9 or 10, depending on where I buy the shoes.

6. I have an inexplicable fascination with peacocks and baby pigeons. Also have a fascination with penguins, but thats understandable, as penguins are ace.

7. I have the worst fear of horror scenes set in bathrooms - they mean I can't go until the next day! So much can go wrong... there's the mirrir, taps, frosted glass, the shower curtain. And you're locked in, alone, and probably naked.

8. I miss the beach - hearing the sea, feeling the sand under my feet, and scrawling rude pictures with sticks.

9. I've been horse riding since I was 9, though I'm nowhere near as good as I use to be.

10. I would happily watch episodes of Black Books for days on end.

11. I've learnt the hard way that people called Brian in gay clubs are usually to be avoided.

12. Things I miss most about Cork are my friends, freakscene, tea at lou's, Ruby's, Zam Zam's, Hillbilly's, and even kinda miss Penneys :O

13. Things I miss about home are: My family, the comedic genius of them, the friends that keep me sane when I'm there, the beach, food in the Den, Patsy the busy woman, laughing at how shit Nimmo's is, spinning in the car with Minna, free food.

14. I used to have goldfish called NikNak and PaddyWak. And a bunny called Bugs Bunny. The cat at home is called Cat.

15. At home I'm called Didi, because my younger sister couldn't say Teresa when she started talking, so the name stuck. We're not entirely sure where squiddly originated from...

16. I often make jokes in reference to things that totally bewilder other people... such as Russell Howard and Jon Richardson shows. Cue rolling dust bunny.

17. There are far more cheesy pop gems on my mp3 player than I care to admit to.

18. I used to love Stephen Gately from Boyzone as a kid... oh dear. It explains so much.

19. If I see neon colours, I can't help but smile and go a little wide-eyed.

20. I LOVE to open the foil on new jars of coffee.

21. I lick the yoghurt lid, anyone who thinks this is gross has no place at my dinner table.

22. I'm severely allergic to suxamethonium - a general anaesthetic, so kill me or save me in the event of an emergency as you see fit.

23. I have to eat chocolate in a particular way: Nibble off the edges, bite it in half, then chew one half and let the other melt in my mouth.

24. I make the best hot chocolate EVAH.

25. I really really want to go to Iceland.

Snow

Its February. And its snowing a motherload. In Dublin. The wee hours of Monday morning it started, while I was walking home from a night out. After copious amounts of vodka, much fun was had. Snow fights, clambering on bridges, scrawling messages on every car and frozen fingers ensued. All good and fun.

Its now Tuesday night, and the novelty has completely worn off. If it stuck, that would be fine. Delightful, even. But instead it just melts - so my feet are soaked and my jeans are soaking up every puddle I have to wade through. Either that, or it ices up the pavement, people are hobbling about Stephen's Green like they've had a really rough weekend.

Fuck off, snow. I've got my pretty pictures, I'm done with you now. G'wan away out of it.

Is this a sign I'm grown up?

Lazy, but it entertained me.

My Life Soundtrack
So, here's how it works:

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool....because your not!

Opening Credits:
It's Not Over Yet - Klaxons (Being the opening credits, I shouldn't think so...)

Waking Up:
Song 2 - Blur (Woohoo indeed.)

First Day At School:
It Hurts - Angels and Airwaves (Ah, it wasn't THAT bad...)

Falling In Love:
Get Lost - Patrick Wolf (no joke, freaked me out...have you heard that song?!)

Fight Song:
Mosquito Song - Queens of the Stone Age (My dramatic fight scene is likely to be something as ridiculous as a mosquito)

Breaking Up:
The Great Wide Open - Funeral For A Friend

Formal:
Want It Can't Have It - Paddy Casey

Life's OK:
Stuck With Me - Green Day

Mental Breakdown:
Trail Of Fire - Oceansize (Insanity has a good soundtrack!)

Driving:
Coffee and Giro Cheques - thisGIRL

.Flashback:
Home - Westlife (My shameful secrets revealed!)

Getting Back Together:
Kill The Director - The Wombats

Birth of Child:
Augustine - Patrick Wolf (well, thats the name sorted)

Wedding:
Scumbag - Green Day (HAH!)

Final Battle:
Degausser - Brand New (Its a wonderfully hate-filled song, in an epic way)

Death Scene:
Cannonball - Damien Rice

Funeral Song:
Guernica - Brand New (Another freaky one - its a song about the singer's Grandad dying...)

End Credits:
The Great Escape - We are Scientists (The need to escape wasn' that great, was it?)

An open letter to The Jelly Bean Factory.

Dear Jelly Bean Factory,
Having purchased several packs of your "gourment beans" for friends and one for myself, I felt the compulsion to share my feelings with you.
What a wide variety of flavours you offer! All the usual, strawberry, lemon and the like, ranging through to the original grape, cranberry, bubblegum and liquorice. Delightful. However, I can't help but feel you're making a lot of it up. Giving various beans different strange colours and non-distinct flavours, and naming it something exotic DOES NOT a gourment bean make.

Candy floss? Candy floss is just sugar. Jelly beans are flavoued sugar, essentially. So you're giving me sugar flavoured sugar.

Peachy pie. This should just be peach. You'd be on to something then - but the addition of "-y pie" allows you to get away with the fact it tastes nothing like peaches.

Café Latte. I like coffee. I like jelly beans. However, the concept of jellied coffee is as horrific in practice as it is in theory.

Cinammon. You went TOO far with the flavour this time. Its a quiet nasty. You chew it and think "mmm, this is a bit nice..." *chomp chomp*, and before you know it, your taste buds are taken over by a combination of vomit and Aftershock Red. Although, I'll grant that this is a natural and commonly occurring combination, but it isn't one I want replicated in a sweet.

Pina Colada. What a frigging cop-out. You market these things at children. Your target market have never tasted pina colada. Hell, I don't think even I have tasted pina colada. This has given you free rein to make it tast whichever way you want. It actually tastes like cat hair.

South seas kiwi. As opposed to a normal kiwi? Or an excuse to just colour a plain jelly bean snot-green?

Tangerine. Sod off, its the same as orange.

And my other gripe? Why do the nasty flavours go to the bottom of the tub, no matter what?

Yours sincerely,

Teresa Coyne

Welcome, 2009...

Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Will you have a cup of tea? A biscuit, or slice of cake maybe? I've got Battenburg...

In my excitement of welcoming 2009, I didn't even notice 2008 leaving swoftly out the door. Didn't even finish his tea. I wasn't done with you, 2008. It disappeared far quicker than I expected. Thats ridiculous you say, its a defined amount of time, its a constant, how could it go faster or loiter like a sponger at the Luas stop?

All in all it was a good year. Many new friends were made, I got my course and realised (and more importantly, proved to my parents) that there is life after dropping out, whichever way you end up going about it. I learnt holding grudges just isn't worth it, and to forgive those truly sorry for their wrong-doings. I moved, yet again, and I'm starting to realise what it is I'm supposed to look out for when house hunting. Freezers, for example.

Only I didn't GO anywhere in '08. No holidays, weekend trips, nada. Sure there were trips to see friends, but nowhere new was ventured to. And I intend to fix that this year. I might just start small, go to the UK a few times. Listen to the West Country accent in Bristol and Bath should entertain me for a weekend. Wales is on the list, as is somewhere in Scotland. I won't be venturing to London. Far too obvious, and 11 years was quite enough for me. I'll get that far first, then decide where to next. Though I intend on going on a typical sun holiday. I've never done it, and while its not original, I need to get the urge to do it out of my system by washing it out with copious amounts of cheap spanish vodka. I know, i'm incredibly classy.

*insert standard 'how was christmas'/'was santa good to you' conversation here* I enjoyed christmas. Mostly for the non-christmas parts. I finally got to spend time with my family, most of all my sisters. What amazing people they are. 4 year olds obsessed with "How Clean Is Your House?", 9 year olds talking to christmas trees, and the teenager bringing home Fred from Scooby Doo. Meanwhile, my christmas morning was like waking up in a horror film, thanks to the infection in my back. I won't go into detail... I could only lie down for 3 days and eat a tin of roses. WHY have they changed the sweet wrappers?

I got the shittiest christmas present form Angela. Yes, dear, I am naming and shaming you. A Laundry basket. Not even one from Penneys that looks like a duck. I would have been quite content with that - I actually DO want one of those. But no, just a blue mesh basket. SHIT.
Angela;"But its the thought that counts!"
Teresa;"What the FUCK werre you thinking when you bought this?!"

Other than that, I got Mighty Boosh tickets :D and did a lot of nothing. Excellent. New years was a sober event for me, and I vow I will never again grace the doors of Nimmo's club in Clifden whilst sober EVER again. Ickity. Cattle market. And full of 'bad' drunks. The emotional ones, the fighting ones, the falling ones, the pervy schmeery ones, the ones with hands so shaky they couldn't win an egg-and-spoon race even if the egg and spoon were glued together. Even the fun drunks began to grate on me somewhat, but that was more a slight jealousy on my part.

So 2009 so far... I've returned to college, and delightfully found I haven't become as stupid as I though I might have. I went to the Mighty Boosh. My alcohol intake so far is one glass of wine with dinner. My friend is sleeping on my floor, and saving me from my own company. When he leaves, I fear for my sanity. Before christmas, I started finding my own company far too amusing. I also turned bisexual for a week, though I think that my painkillers were mucking with my brain, so I was eyeing up anyhting that moved, Holly Wiloughby and Man-From-Scouting-For-Girls to name a few. Though, you can't possibly argue the Holly thing.

Here's to making the most out of this year. Hold it hostage in your living room, but in a Stockholm-syndrome-inducing kinda way. Y'know, break out the nice biccies, the chocolate Kimberlys maybe. Give it the good chair. I'm sure its a kind old soul really.

Happy new year, one and all.

Merry Clucking Christmas

It all started with that seagull floating backwards. I had to sit down I was laughing so much, and I attracted many strange look that day beside the Lee, and worried glances were exchanged between Darren and Colin wondeing if I had finally lost it. Poor little seagull, giving it socks trying to swim against the current, but the only direction he was going was backwards. Following this incident, I discovered techno chicken. Oh yes.

Then there was the card in Urban Outfitters. A pigeon. On a skateboard. This would have been quite enough of a comic delight for me, but its captioned "Time to get your best moves on". And all I can picture is a pigeon bustin' moves with Tony Hawks, whilst wearing a helmet. Yes, I know, helmets aren't cool. But this is a renegade pidgeon. He defies all laws of convention, be they pigeon or skater.

And now, WKD, an unlikely contender, have brought me the most incredible christmas advertising campaign. Sod the Coke with the trucks. Pffft. What of the Budweiser horsies with snow on their backs? Pah. The whole campaign is only vaguely christmassy but virtue of the fact its anti-turkey and very much pro-chicken, and it helps by throwing in sparkly lights, tinsel and santa hats. Anything can be made christmassy doing that.

WKD have a point. Turkeys don't feed you when you get post club munchies. Anyone who has been to Hilbilly's and slurred "breashht inna bunnnnn, pleashe" knows exactly what I'm talikng about. Often I have proclaimed the wonder of chicken at 4am. And the good people at Hillbilly's, Cork's finest eatery.

The posters were more than enough to tickle my fancy. There is 2 on the way to work, and they do brighten up my day, walking to work at 6.30am, when the ground is iced over and its still dark, and you know you should be in bed still. Then, what could be the pinnacle of my bird-humour adventure.
WOW. Laugh? Did I what?! It gets off to an awful start, then KABOOM. Its craptacular. As in it shouldn't be funny. Its not big and its not clever, and for Pete's sake, its a fecking WKD advert. They are in leagues with Nuts magazine. But it is spectacular.

"Pull my winger!"
"Squawking in the aiiiiirrrrrrr!"

If you enjoyed that video as much as I did, watch this. Black Books is genius.

So WKD. Well done. Or well done on your choice of marketing team. All the one, really. Copious amounts of drinking that crazy coloured liquid got me through those early days of drinking as a young 'un, and set me on the path of losing all sense of embarassment and shame. You need that kind of thing if your a 16 year old neeky gerd. I distance myself from you these days. Essentially, you are flogging a kiddie's drink to menly men. Trying to anyway. I think its biggest market is still the tweenage 10-14 age bracket. But kudos. I may just drink one to celebrate these ads.

It'll be the red one. Christmassy.

Are you smarter than a ten year old?!

Was that ad created by a ten year old?

Noel Edmonds:"What is the type of writing used by ancient egyptians?"
Mother:"Is it hierarchy?"

How would someone that thick have gotten through the entire process of conception, pregnancy, and child rearing?

What hurts my head even more is that there really are people that thick. Walking around, like regular people.

Thought that doctorate in molecular physics would come in handy.