Thursday, September 30, 2004

The Bianconeri beckons...

5X is back, which means I'd better start blogging again. He's been explaining how EVERYTHING in Italy, including the carbonated beverages, is better than in Ireland.

So that's it, I'm going.

Just a case of learning the language, saving some cash and taking it from there. I'm even prepared to school myself in the ways of the vendetta.

And so to reality.

I've been rather quiet lately, blog-wise. It was brought to my attention that all I write about is boozing and what not. This troubled me until one of the lads, Cowzer or Ollie, pointed out that all Brendan Behan wrote about was revelry.

So, here goes...

Got locked last night!

Tuesday, September 21, 2004


As Fin said, it's that mixture of fear and excitement that greets any Liverpool - Man Utd game. I like our chances, even without Danny Murphy, so often the scourge of the scum.

Heading home soon to watch it, no boozing for me tonight.

Last night I had my first ever pint in Dublin's best pub. Ryan's of Parkgate Street. You walk in and it's the '20s. You can just imagine Stephen Rea drinking there, clad in the fashion of the times. Bar-keeps were especially kindly - one even stood to attention when I addressed him as 'bar-keep,' a sackable offence in some inns - while the pints were squoze by the Gods themselves.

They even let the lads smoke in there! In this prohibitory day and age, it was a breath of stale air...

We tumbled doorwards at 12.30am, an hour and a half after closing hour and with the lads behind the bar still happy to serve us. However, myself, Ollie, Kev and Austin could take no more, we had had enough.

Monday, September 20, 2004

That great Irish conflict...

I did it! I did it! An entire weekend spent away from the pub, a touch of min to counter the max. Now Skehan's pestering me for pints but I'm staying strong. He's using The Villager - a favourite pub - as bait, but......must.....stay.....away......from......the......shindig.

Now it's Ryan's ("the finest pint in Dublin, according to one of the lads who knows one of the lads...") he's employing. Sure fuck it, I'll have the one and then hit the road. Yeah.

In my sobriety, and isolation, last night I got to thinking about alternatives to boozing.

(Tumbleweed sashays through my mind...)

No, really, aside from being at the mercy of the picture house, what else is there for us but the pub? The gym? Please. Stage plays? Once every six and a half years maybe, but that still leaves..........dum de dum de dum......2372 evenings to avoid staying in. The great outdoors? Where? Bray? Have a word with yourself...

My train of thought went further than this, but I'm stuck for time and it's time for a jar...

I'll get back to it later.

Friday, September 17, 2004

For medicinal purposes...

I have that feeling in my throat. It's not sore, it's just a heaviness that could signal the arrival of a cold. Drat.

Was talking to the girls about this at lunch. I'm crap at being sick.

You will have never seen a more pathetic, self-important, obnoxious creature than me with a headcold. Frankly, I use it as an excuse to make everyone as miserable as me, while explaining my compunction to drink whiskey (hot and cold) at 11am as 'medicinal.' Of course, that's a crock of crud.

Cowzer wants a pub review section added to this blog. I happen to agree. I like pubs, I frequent them, yes, all the time and I even prefer some over others. They're subconsciously rated already, just a case of chroniclisation. Or some such.

May I ask Sir Cowzer what the criteria may be? Atmosphere, quality of pints/bar snacks, ladies and (strictly) their personalities, music. Anything to add?

Over to you Sirrah...

Oh, and may I take this opportunity to wish Denise all the best on her venture, and 5X a happy holiday. He makes me want to be a better blogger.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Today I will mostly be dying on my arse...

More on The Globe. The place is awash with fairly fair members of the fairer sex. Found it hard to concentrate on my lager beer last night, such was my ardour.

Stayed on my (nearly) best behaviour, left Ollie, 5X and Richie to it after only two or three. Previous night - table quiz - did for me and I went home.

More of it tonight with Johnny and his uncle Billy. It could get messy, let's just say that John Boy didn't lick it off the ground.

Pop: Geri lashes former lovers in song. X Factor contestants forced to sign contracts. George Michael: Madonna tried to seduce me. See WAP.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Yin time...

It was a good weekend.

In the Palace, some Temple Bar wastage hole and finally The Globe with the lads on Friday.

Cocktail of stupidity:
1) Eight-ish pints of Guinness.
2) Jameson (mixer optional, Coca Cola in my case)
3) Slippery nipple(s)
4) No food, bar a fistful of Pringles.

My own worst enemy, as 5X put it to me on Saturday.

Saturday: Just 'the two' in The Long Stone with said 5X. The man's a machine - one sup from his first ale and he's "takin' it to the max tonight." Granted, there was some wist in his voice, but I refuse to believe he felt THAT bad about it. I left him to it on George's Street and got the last bus, the residue from the previous night's alement still pulsing in me.

Sunday? To Dakota. Happily Kev rescued me after scant Stella, otherwise it would have become raucous. Made merry at home.

It's Monday now, I'm not long back from town. I bought Pearl Jam 'Live At Benaroya Hall,' Fargo for a tenner, biography of Marlon Brando for four beans - you can't go wrong - Vanilla Sky soundtrack (featuring Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill!) and the new Frames single, which is a bit of a dirge, truth told.

I'm due a bit of yin, I'll take it to the yang on Thursday at a table quiz on Baggot Street. No shots this time.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

The twain...

Not good for anything today. Back in The Globe last night, Skehan made me do it. "XXXXX is up to something," says he. "Let's go and cause some mischief."

And so onwards with us. XXXXX, it turns out, was in a very tight spot. Two recent conquests, we'll call them 'the twain,' were about to meet. What does XXXXX do? Says "fuck 'em, this scene's getting tired maaaaaan, I'm gonna hook me up outside of the twain. The twain can kiss my rosy red..."

Or words to that effect.

Meanwhile, I'm at the bar doing slippery nipples, throwing cogency and an entire bed-spread to the wind. I eventually mumble my way home. Work has been slow today, I'm in rare aul form though and gaggin' for the shindig.

There's doins a transpirin'..

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

No comment!

I saw Gus Van Sant's 'Elephant' last night.

It's a strange one. The film, based on the Columbine massacre, spends a third of its duration following kids around the school, where all you see are the backs of heads, and all you hear are snatches of dialogue.

Character development? Not a bit of it. Sense of foreboding? Ironically yes, given that the film is largely soundtrack free and the camera meanders through the school hallways for minutes on end. I'd recommend it, if only for its randomness and ambiguity. As with Columbine itself, no motive is explained, and no answers as to why the two young gunmen shot down their schoolmates given.

It's a strange one.

And so to me. I haven't blogged for a few days, and I haven't boozed for a few days. That's a bit Irish, is it not? Also, Billy has assisted me in adding links to his and Cowzer's blogs. Check them out, they make for much less mundane reading.

I'm in Limerick again, second week in a row. It'll be pints for me tonight, I tells ya. Had some good news today, and XXXXX wants me to go into detail. Well, no dice! Suffice to say the boys are happy...