Tuesday, October 31, 2006
A thousand worries cloud the mind of radgery. Why are Vodafone such unmitigated bastards? When o when will I be happily shacked up under my own steam? How do I get rid of this poxy cold???
Moan moan and fucking moan.
Still, it's not all grumbles and groans. Liverpool have won a few on the go and I've a few days away from the the uncertain coalface that is Setanta Central, so there's that.
What else? Sorry to Denise on this, but 'A Good Year' is not worthy filmmaking.
Eh, Julie, where the hell are you? Oh yeah, Budapest.
Em, Anne's 30 tomorrow. We'll see it pass drunkenly, no doubt.
Um, are Strepsils just a placebo?
Eek, is that the time?!?
Friday, October 20, 2006
Anyway, on with it...
A = 'Alligator'. By The National. Best album ever bought, containing such classics as 'City Middle' and 'Daughters Of The Soho Riots.' Ask Dave. He'll confirm.
B = Beer. Need I elaborate? Current favourite is Spaten Munchen Booooy!, as they call it in Waterford (well, Johnny doing a Waterford accent, anyway).
C = Cinema. Favourite extra-curricular activity, save for pub-going-to (see 'S')
D = Dingle. Arse to Fungi, ignore the foreign tourists (as opposed to those from other parts of Ireland) and you'll find many, MANY delights within. Especially O'Flahertys.
E = Endgame, the REM instrumental from the 'Out Of Time' album, is very beautiful. Endgame, the Beckett play I had to sit through a few months ago, is bollocks. Sorry Fennell. And Gersende.
F = Fish. Great brain food, and so very tasty. Whether it's fresh sole or in sushi form, it's the best of the food stuffs. Along with cheese. Don't like plaice though.
G = Germany. Or Heidelberg to be more precise, as it's the only part of Germany I've properly seen. The most idyllic city I've been to. And O'Reillys is a Mecca.
H = Heidelberg (see 'G').
I = Ireland. It gets a hard time but it's, eh, y'know, grand. Suppose.
J = Jelly and ice cream. Not just hospital food. Lemon jelly and vanilla, to be more specific.
K = Kisses. You can tell a lot.
L = Liverpool. Stevie. Robbie. Carra. European Cups. FA Cups. Kop. That oh so elusive search for the title. Love it. But it kills me.
M = Music. Just got me through four hours on a bus to Limerick. For which I am grateful.
N = National (The). Gave me 'Alligator' (see 'A'), 'Cherry Tree' and 'Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers.' Phenomenal all.
O = Olives. Recently got into these. Green ones stuffed with feta are the business.
P = Personal hygiene. Wash, rinse and repeat. ALWAYS repeat.
Q = Questions. Quite possibly the most important factor in building a relationship. Says Ronan Clerkin to me once, "Always ask questions. That's the trick." Lad was right.
R = Reindeer Section. Gary Lightbody side-project with members from practically every top Scottish act. Their 'Son Of Evil Reindeer's a classic to my mind.
S = Stags. The snug on a Tuesday afternoon. Cowzer knows. And no, it's not like THAT.
T = Ten (Pearl Jam). Seminal.
U = Undeniable chemistry. When you know, you know. You just do.
V = Veneer. I like the word, and what it signifies. Scratch the surface...
W = Walls (for staring). Had my own staring wall in 32A. I'd turn around and stared at it for, well, minutes! Haven't found a good one since though. Help me find a staring wall.
X = X-Factor (not the programme, but that indescribable thing that draws you to a person). See Undeniable chemistry ('U').
Y = Youth. I've still got it. Not the bawdy recklessness of the 'pre-24' years. More the drunken desperation of the 'pre-mortgage/marriage/babies' years.
Z = Zanzibar (the country, not the pub). I was told something quite disturbing about it recently so it was the first 'Z' to spring to mind.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Let me say that Richie 'Dr Fell' Roche is an awful man. Johnny just rang me in a broken state, said he'd been wooed by the great man himself (no not like that - "don't... fuckin'... like 'em mate") and kept out making merry until the small hours. That's the way to have it of a schoolnight, as opposed to my own slinking off early in search of my bed.
Happy enough with the result last night, but if you want my less than cogent thoughts on the fitba you'll have to seek out my blog on the Setanta site, he plugged shamelessly.
What else? Saw Maynooth campus yesterday. An impressive place. Val held back on her promise to make me pay for my 'Offaly natives' jibe in the previous entry, so I can't help but feel she's plotting my demise and won't be rushed into it. All quite chilling, really.
Saw The Departed and Little Miss Sunshine on Friday last in Limerick. Two decent films, though I was wowed by neither.
Off today and tomorrow, reckon I've finally to get arse in gear and find my way out of Anne's hair. To town with me!
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
An outbreak of banter threatened to disrupt work at Setanta Media’s new offices on
The opprobrium started when Eoin Toolan made a valiant attempt to change the channel on the all-too-complicated new LG televisions in the corner.
Stand-in GAA correspondent Pat Nolan, sensing mirth, confronted the manically coiffeured Toolan with a healthy disdain known only to Offaly natives and Welsh butchers.
Never one to be out-insulted, Toolan swung back with a jibe about Mr. Nolan’s choice of attire which, again, would only be known to Offaly natives and Welsh butchers.
Cue an outbreak of laughter hitherto unknown to the new building, and which certainly runs contrary to the company’s strict guidelines against all office mirth and spontaneous banter.
It is expected that a full inquiry will be launched, with the two men at the centre of the controversy expected to fulfill ‘lunch run’ duties for a time to be determined by company CEO Frank Cronin.
“I’ve never witnessed such joviality. Next thing they’ll all be standing around the water cooler in the kitchen cracking jokes and drinking semi-skimmed lattes. General hilarity in Setanta Media is very much frowned upon,” frowned Mr. Cronin.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
It's happening more and more to me. If I could channel this shit I'd make millions.
There's something out there, more than just science and trees.
Away from the strange world of the coincidence inexplicable, I'm taken up still by late nights (both in the pub and out), homelessness and general upintheairedness.
It's fun and frustrating in equal measure.
The last few days. A rundown. Thursday and Greaney in Neary's after dinner with Julianne and her troup. Greaney's an awful man. Moving to Spain he is. I wish him luck.
Friday was Emma's art exhibition on Stephen's Green, and then pint and pint again with Etaoin and Johnny in O'Donoghues. Pissedo drunko lockedo fuckedo. To Saturday and Quinns where we watched the Liverpool match, was spent by the evening and passed out at 7.30. For twelve hours.
This is all very humdrum, I know, but I've been on the lash a good bit so need to keep myself updated.
What else? It's Wednesday now. And I'm hungover.