Have to pay testament to YouTube. Ridiculously good. I'm currently back in 1993/94, playing concert footage of Pearl Jam's 'Footsteps,' an unsung classic, a b-side that had me many a time sitting on the floor of my bedroom wondering why life was so shit for me and perfect for everybody else.
O to be 15 again. The glorious self-indulgence of it all!
So here I am, 28 of all things. Have to say Radge Lash '06 was capital. An exceptional night of whirring and wooing and what-the-fuck-is-going-on-ing and wondering what the hell happened to my jacket. Ing.
Twas O'Reilly's there by Tara St station, and a heartfelt thanks to all who came bearing gifts and/or just themselves. The hat that Julie got me must have done the round of the entire female populace of the pub, odd given the manliness of it. Also, the irony of having long ago thrown my hat at women was not lost on me.
Don't think it was, McKeigue!
And as for the Conaghy lad? He'll be done proud, I vow that.
Doubtless to say that was the evening's crowning moment, if you were there you'll know what it was. If not? Pay the full subscription. I've eaten only beans lately.
Sorry, that was my mad aunt, saying how I looked like some psychiatrist off the tellyvision or something.
Where was I? Oh yeah. Trying to extort you, my pretties! Imagine the drudge and drang I could avoid if Radgery was a paying service. No more scheduling, for a start. It's not where I dreamed to be.
Next week is the Setanta Christmas Party, for which my own birthday last week was merely the preamble. Sadly, no 5X this year, but I'll try and make up for his absence in other ways. It occurs to me that 5X, the aul hoor, is getting a lot of coverage on old Radgery these days. Probably because I love him gayly, but not in a queer way, you understand?
There are rumours of suits this time around. Be God and I'll do it! I'll play dress up and no mistake. I know it'll all end up in a drunken heap on the floor, but I'll bring the camera anyway and show the aul one.
She still thinks I'm an investment banker.