I had to laugh today, I went to the playground with the kids and saw the typical Irish cross dressing going on. Now I don’t mean boys were dressing up as girls or anything like that. No, what I saw looked like all four seasons of the year had crossed each other right there in the playground. Not weather wise, but clothes wise.

There were kids dressed up for the beach with little shorts and t-shirts on, their flip flops off, building castles in the sand pit. Their parents lounging nearby sun bathing, a picnic spread out and drinks close to hand in case of any dehydration problems. Then there were kids with jumpers and tracksuits keeping the wind that was around today at bay. But the kids that  definitely took the biscuits were the poor little feckers with the hoodies and puffa-jackets on, wearing big thick socks and hiking boots on their feet. The mother, wearing her warm winter woolies too hoping to ward off any summer colds that might be doing the rounds. Fuck, I know today wasn’t as warm as other days but for God sake what was going on? The poor kids looked like they were cooking in their clothes. Maybe it was some sick kind of punishment, if you’re bold I’ll sew you into your coat until you boil.(Okay maybe not).

What were my kids wearing? They were the ones in their swimming shorts splashing in the water fountain, fuck it, make hay while the sun shines!

I had the pleasure of driving up to Dublin today. Lucky me!

Every dick-head, asshole and bitch in the country seemed to be out to annoy me today. O yes, it was one of those days.

The first asshole I came across was the stupid fucker who insisted on driving up my ass. Now I have to admit this is the one thing in the whole world that makes me want to beat the shit out of someone. I was driving along the motorway minding my own business, passing out a lorry, when all of a sudden I practically had a fucking trailer sitting on the end of my car. If these people are in such a hurry why not leave a little earlier? Sometimes I make myself feel a little better by imagining a scenario where I have to slam on the brakes and their nice new, shiny and expensive car gets all wrecked trying to avoid my piece of shit, dirty old car. Of course no one gets hurt in my fantasy, well not me anyway. My second scenario is only a dream and I know it it will never happen so please don’t laugh. I imagine that maybe, just maybe the guards will catch them speeding and I will drive past and give them a little wave (and the fingers) . Total fantasy, but a girl can dream.

The second brain dead drivers I came across today was the people who when driving on a three lane road still insist on passing you on the inside. Today I was driving in the middle lane of the motorway, and doing the speed limit when I was passed twice by cars in the inside lane. Why not just use the fast lane if they wanted to go so fast? Although, the person who passed me on the inside on the two lane stretch, just to pass out a lorry before me definitely has a death wish, fecking hell. Maybe these people have much more exciting and fast lives than me, that’s probably true, but still is it worth risking your life over? Apparently so.

And of course I must not forget the lovely lady (bitch) who I let into the line of traffic. I was sitting waiting for a little wave of gratitude, what did I get? A flick of her cigarette ash in my direction. Straight away I regretted letting her out because it dawned on me that she was the type of asshole that just expects us humble folks to allow her pass.

Today didn’t turn out all bad as I feel I have learned a very important lesson, that stupidity and ignorance have no sexual preference, it is the one area where men and woman can equally be assholes and shit heads.

I was just mulling over my early years yesterday, when it occurred to me that some things just aren’t around anymore.

Here are some examples;

When I was a kid I believed that rabies was rampant. If my memory serves me correctly I’m sure that there was even an ad on TV about it. Back then, if a stray dog even looked at me funny I would all run away screaming, fearing I had caught the dreaded rabies. Funnily enough, I never actually heard of even one person getting it, EVER! Does it still exist or have they found a cure for it, because I haven’t heard it mentioned since the eighties.

Hives, what ever happened to hives? I used to spend about two weeks every year covered in bread soda. I have memories of my mother shouting at me to stop my constant scratching. But I never could because they used to itch like fuck! But these days you never even hear of them. The sales of bread soda probably plummeted after the eighties. Although looking back now, I wonder if hives really existed, maybe we were all just infected with scabies but our parents were to embarassed to admit it.

What ever happened to games like Curbs, Queenie-I-O, Pinch the parrot and Slam? I don’t see kids playing them anymore.

Whatever happened to the Rent Man? Does he still exist? Once a week in our council estate the Rent Man would come calling. On weeks when money was scarce we’d have go to the door and tell him that our Mam wasn’t home or we would all have to stay quiet until he had gone.

What ever happened to The Isle of Man? This once exotic location seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. It was the place to go a few years back. When most of us were being squashed into a caravan with three other families in wind swept locations such as Tramore or Salthill, the Isle of Man was for the elite and well off.

What ever happened to budgies? Everyone used to have budgies when I was growing up. Why? They must have been the poor man’s exotic pet! Also terrapins and pigeons, where have they disappeared to?

The list is probably endless. There are so many things that are just not around anymore so it’s always nice to see something old make a come back. And today I was pleasantly surprised. If you were asked what shampoo you used years ago I bet you would say Timotei (or maybe not). Everyone used Timotei, I don’t know why, but it was probably cheap (like the inevitable Penguin bar that crept into your lunch box on every one of your school going days). But you can rest easy because it is back so thankfully after numerous years I can finally wash my hair! Phew!

Praise the Lord, the phone line is back. I never realised I used the internet so much until it was gone!

Contact with the outside world can resume again, phew!

Since myself and himself got engaged a few weeks ago I’ve since been trawling through the internet looking for a good spot to go. And it’s definitely not been easy.

Eight years, two kids and a mortgage later we’re finally going to tie the knot (allegedly) but, because neither of us are exactly pure as snow, I feel the big, over the top wedding in Ireland just wouldn’t suit.

I’m thinking more along the lines of our closest family and friends going off foreign (but not too foreign) for a big piss up.

The destination coming up tops at the minute is Scotland. It’s close but not too close, they like to drink and we like to drink, they’re cheap and we’re cheap.

If anyone has some tips for us (other than don’t get married!) I’d be delighted to hear them.

Thanks!

I am absolutely fuming right now. Totally pissed off!

I have just received a phone call on my mobile from Littlewoods (previously known as The Family Album). And under went an interrogation as to when and how I will pay my outstanding balance.

Fuck, I thought, I must be up to my eyes in debt!

When I inquired into how much was outstanding, I was informed I owed 30 euro. I actually cannot believe that they would ring someone at 8pm on a Tuesday evening for a lousy 30 euro. And, what sickens me even more, is that the item I bought off them was the biggest heap of shit. It was a crappy wardrobe that’s in bits already. My worst buy ever!

I feel like taking the fucking thing apart and sending it back to them.

I have learned something from this experience though and it isn’t that I should pay my bills on time. No, I have learned never to answer the phone if it displays the words ‘private number’.

At long last, I’ve got the computer all to myself! Mr S has become very attached to it since he went all poetic last week and wrote a song about Bertie (which, I’ll give credit where it is due, is very funny). This is the first time in days that he hasn’t been in here obsessing over his blog and his email account. Although this could be due to the fact that I screamed fire, barricaded myself into the room and am refusing to leave until I’ve written something. He wasn’t impressed but I had no other choice!

So, finally alone, the kids are in bed and all is quiet, except of course for Mr S who is whimpering softly outside the door. I’m ready to write something great…

Shit. My mind has gone blank. Fucking typical!

Right, I’d better go and put him out of his misery or on second thoughts I think I’ll go visit a few other blogs!

I know I must sound like the scabbiest fecker ever but I’m telling you the country is gone mad lately.

I went to the hairdresser last Saturday morning to get my hair done for a wedding. The hairdressers in particular was more up-market than what I’m used to. In other words, it wasn’t Shelia, from down the road’s kitchen. But still, it it was no Toni and Guy either. I asked for GHD curls to be put in my hair, which basically means curling the hair with a hair straightener(?! strange but true).

As I sat peacefully while the hairdresser wrestled with the mop that calls itself my hair, a thought occurred to me. How much should I leave as a tip? I have to admit the whole tipping thing confuses and worries me so this meant I spent most of the next 40 minutes mulling over the problem. I eventually reached a conclusion. I deduced that my curls would probably set me back about 25 euro so if I left a 5 euro tip that would be fine. With the decision made and my time on the chair finished, I was relaxed, and gleefully admired my new poodle-like hairstyle. My glee was short lived though as the amount I owed was revealed to me. What?, I thought, that can’t be right, 51 euro! I must have heard wrong. But no, much to my disbelief my curls cost 51 euro! As I emptied the contents of my wallet and handed over my hard earned money, the receptionist had the cheek to stand there and look at me like I owed her something else. She practically took the clothes off my back and now she wanted more. Greedy bitch! Well, I left her fucking standing there!

I think though, I can rest easy in the knowledge that although I was stupid enough to pay 51 euro at least I wasn’t stupid enough to leave a tip too!

God I am a scabby bitch!

God, I was so sick of seeing his face every day in the media before today. So now I’m really fucked.

Throughout today RTE had his life story on loop. Every time I turned on the telly, there he was, blah, blah, blahing out of him. Is it just me or does anyone else find this whole saga truly BORING?

I am cringing at the thought of the Bertie coverage in the newspapers tomorrow. I probably won’t be able to buy a newspaper for a least a week cos all that they’ll talk about is Bertie,Bertie,Bertie.

I can see already that people will get sentimental and nostalgic about his time as Taoiseach. They will remember all the good things he did(??) and forget all the bad things. Will anyone see the bigger picture, it’s obvious to me he’s jumping from a sinking ship. When the going gets tough, the Bertie gets going!

After a guy called to my door selling scratch cards for charity, a thought occurred to me. How much would I be happy to pay for one?

I hadn’t much money this particular day but I was going to buy one anyway. My mind suddenly changed, when after inquiring about the price, I was told these scratchys would cost me five euro. Now, maybe I’m just a scabby fucker, but five euro!? Even the guy sitting outside SuperValu every Saturday doesn’t charge that much. Needless to say I refused to buy one and closed my door quickly.

There is another side to this story that made me question why I said no. The charity this man was collecting for was one that worked with alcohol addicted teenagers . Could it be that I’m not very sympathetic to the plight of drink addicted teenagers? Could I just not give a shit about teenagers, sick children maybe, but teenagers no way. No, I concluded I am probably just jealous! (But seriously, isn’t being addicted to alcohol what the teenage years is all about?).

The truth is, if the man said two euro I would definitely have bought one, five euro, forget about it.