Sunday, February 24, 2008

I object to the word 'bird'. But not the word bird.

Bless me readers for I have not blogged for a fortnight.

I had two long weeks of eating sub-standard pasta from the Centra across the road from work, watching Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman tackle the roads of Mongolia in, surely, one of the best travel documentaries ever committed to videotape or whatever they're using now, drinking sporadically but in large quantities, tackling a new system in work, plotting Johnny's demise, seeing Juno on Valentine's evening with the very-much-taken Mirabilis (cheers Jimmy for letting me borrow your bird), enjoying said film, drinking peppermint tea, free writing and tackling a bastard of a cold that lasted a week.

I broke my rule of never running for women or buses too, and the result was costly. Last Tuesday or Wednesday it was, with the roads covered with a thick frost and black ice. I saw the 121 and decided to make a dash for it as I wanted to avoid the old woman who always stations herself beside me at the stop blowing Woodbine smoke in my direction.

I ran through a wet patch not realising it had frozen over in the chill and went slap down on my arse, cursing and blinding in the aftermath. I wouldn't mind but the driver just looked at me, laughed and drove off in an act of utter cuntishness. I can still feel the stiffness in my shoulder and neck but thankfully no longer term damage done.

Man's ability to get up from such public embarrassments and pretend nothing has happened never ceases to surprise me. I just dawdled on acting as though someone else entirely had just gone arse-over-tit at the hands of Mother Nature, the scrapes on my bleeding hands the only things giving me away.

Also, this week, I made my Diceys debut.

I'd heard terrible things, and going there from a sober perspective I would have retched at the besuited bestiality of the place, with chickenheads and cocaine princes everywhere. However, I was drunk up on Stella before I made my entrance for Denise's birthday drinks, and revelled heartily with Ollie and Melissa and the quare one's work friends. A fine night. I also took a tour of the beer garden and can see why it's been dubbed a smoker's paradise, with those in thrall to nicotine gaspering happily in a back garden that could happily double as an airport hanger.

I don't remember leaving or arriving home though I think I paid the Fish Bar a visit for a quarter pounder. It always comes back to the food.

Anyway, back to sobriety with me for a few days while I recover from that and the previous nights ales in Nearys and Kehoes with Elayne from Ballyfin. I'm down in Limerick housesitting for the folks who have just headed to Kilkenny for a couple of days.

They did the decent thing and left me a steak. I have to go to the shop for bread myself though.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Three paragraphs.

I see my old friend Terry McDanger has gone into something of a slump. A man who blogged daily through the approach of winter has seen spring steal his pen or, more to the point, the two fingers he uses to wax forth. Get it sorted. We all need a little bit of moo-dog.

Well, I'll never be either as prolific or as barren as you will all have come to know by now, checking in weekly or whenever it suits and this time around I'm struggling with the cold everyone else seemed to have over the Christmas there.

It began as something else last Thursday, the lurgy perhaps, causing me to miss two days of work. When that ailment shifted off it left nothing more than a sniffle in its wake, and back to Setanta Central with me yesterday. Last night was a different story though, a flurry of sneezing and spittle to beat the band and laid up today with little for solace only Kellogg's Country Store and Goals On Sunday. They're showing Wigan.

Monday, February 04, 2008

Literally, like, SO angrifying.

Frasier's on a loop on Paramount 2. Of such things great Monday mornings off are made. Have to tear myself away soon, lots to do, including the chasing down of a lost passport.

Right so, to the matter at hand. Been musing on the way we speak as a nation. Not me, mind, but those who have allowed the English language to become a bastardised version of itself, culled from America and so many hours spent watching, shudder, 'E'.

"I SO want to see that film." - Nothing grates on me more than this one. When did the word so, which relates to a certain degree, become a substitute for really? You SO shouldn't use this word in this context. It's, like, so wrong.

"It's, like, so wrong." - Here is another one. What does like add to this sentence, other than to delay the sentence just long enough that the dimwitted orator can let his or her brain catch up before the end of the sentence. Ironically, this does involve one of the correct uses of the word so.

"It was ironic the way he caught that ball." - No it fucking wasn't. There was no irony involved in plucking that football from mid-air. None. Irony is a "method of humorous or subtly sarcastic expression in which the intended meaning of the words is the direct opposite of their usual sense." Thank you

"Let's do a film some time" or "Let's do lunch some time." - Unless your preferred method of fornication involves making love to the innards of a camera, or gently straddling a pizza, leave this one alone. There are perfectly acceptable verbs to be used as substitutes here. "Watch" and "eat," neither of which is too testing and involves only one syllable.

"I literally wet myself." - Exercise bladder control. Literally.

"I TOTALLY didn't get what happened there." - JESUS CHRIST! This is even worse than the use of the largely redundant 'literally' and 'basically.' "Oh I'm glad you told me you TOTALLY didn't get it, because without the use of the word totally, I may have assumed you understood the event that has just occurred on some minor, even subliminal, level."

"Loser!" - Please pass me a noose.

"Whatever!" - Sorry, I'll rephrase - "What....EVERRRR!" - Used as a form of dismissal by our feeble minded friends, I have.... I mean.... I can't.... I just don't have the words. Now that's irony.