Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Loggerhythems- there's a funny word.
Howdy doody one and all. Hope you are all hale and whole.
So we've been back for nearly 2 weeks now and we're more or less back to our old selves. Gillo spend 2 straight days last week consuming the new Harry Potter brick, after which I got me hands on it (If anyone out there has read it, I got 1 word for ya- grrrrowwwwmmmmbahhhhhachhh... I think that more or less sum,s things up) and very enjoyable it was too.
Well done Gareth for finishing a project- make sure you send me the pictures from the papers- I'm having trouble imagining you in a suit, meeting the dignitaries of Dromore (opium farmers, weed dealers farmers and bovine pimps).
I'll have been in the library service for 3 years this september, a fact that makes me quiver with disappointment, so I plan to hunt down something better if it kills me.
Shit! Works just got real busy, I'd best go.
Laterz
Aido
Howdy doody one and all. Hope you are all hale and whole.
So we've been back for nearly 2 weeks now and we're more or less back to our old selves. Gillo spend 2 straight days last week consuming the new Harry Potter brick, after which I got me hands on it (If anyone out there has read it, I got 1 word for ya- grrrrowwwwmmmmbahhhhhachhh... I think that more or less sum,s things up) and very enjoyable it was too.
Well done Gareth for finishing a project- make sure you send me the pictures from the papers- I'm having trouble imagining you in a suit, meeting the dignitaries of Dromore (opium farmers, weed dealers farmers and bovine pimps).
I'll have been in the library service for 3 years this september, a fact that makes me quiver with disappointment, so I plan to hunt down something better if it kills me.
Shit! Works just got real busy, I'd best go.
Laterz
Aido
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
¡Hola!
So I’m back in blighty after a tulmutous two weeks back home.
The first week was fun, noisy and very very busy- with a near constant stream of people (aussies mainly) trooping in and out of the house. It was great to see everyone again, but it was nearly too busy to spend much time talking to anyone. Edel seemed in particularly good form; not even remotely stressed at the prospect of getting hitched at the end of the week. I didn’t see much of Luke (he was conspicuously keeping a low profile while everyone else was running around getting shit sorted- just right in my book) And the day of the wedding itself went off largely without a hitch. Everyone looked splendid, especially myself if I may say (natty threads courtesy of Mssr Mark Donnelly) and Ma and Pa were positively glowing. Sadly, it was on the wedding day that it all started to go a bit wrong for me. I couldn’t finish my dinner cos I was feeling a bit mbleh, but I put that down to the heat of Kelly’s inn, and was ok again after some fresh air, but decided not to rock the boat by adding drink to the equation. The next day I felt rank- like I’d been chainsmoking woodbines in my sleep- which I put down to overindulging in the cancer sticks at the wedding, and swore off them. The following morning I felt as bad again, this time I blamed Enda, as he can be a bit heavy handed with the deodorant of a morning- and promptly threw all his sprays out and bought him a roll on. The next morning I felt truly crummy and was shit out of people to blame. Someone pointed out that perhaps I was suffering from hay fever. I’d never had it before, but the symptoms seemed to tally and since it was hotter than I could ever remember it being before, I thought perhaps the pollen had overcome my immunities. Either way, I spent the rest of that day and all of the next feeling like I’d been run over by a particularly dusty bus and mum got me sorted out with a doctors appointment. This didn’t help since by the time I got to see him I had been quaffing antibiotics, antihistamines, solphadines and anything else vaguely pharmaceutical that I could lay my sweaty hands on, and was improving nicely. He concurred that it sounded like, and in all likelihood was hayfever, but then, as the immediate family and their other halves set off for a weekend in ballycastle, I noted that other people seemed to be catching whatever it was I had. By the time we left Gill, Luke, Sinead, Andrea and Brenda had been struck down- Gills still not at work, and I had to book another day’s holiday on Tuesday cos Monday just fucked me up.
Ballycastle was great though. I hadn’t been there since way back when, and there wasn’t much to do. This time though, I didn’t want to do much cos we’d gone to have, y’know, some time with the familials, just to settle down after the exertions of the wedding and all. We had a party for Olivia, Dad and Joe on Saturday night, and me and Gillo had to leave first thing Sunday morning.
So that was that. Once again, you guys, I’m very very sorry for not getting to meet up with y’all in Dublin or Omagh- laziness and circumstances conspired against me once again, but next time I will remedy this by flying to Dublin before going back up north; just make sure you are still around then, whenever it may be.
In other news, Twinkle has gained .05 of a KG in our absence and has developed a wheezy snore. Gill’s had her to the vet who assures us that it’s nothing to worry about, though if the vets in Hillsborough are on a par with the doctors, she could well have the black death and we’d be none the wiser.
Until next we meet,
Aido ‘Fried’ Potato
So I’m back in blighty after a tulmutous two weeks back home.
The first week was fun, noisy and very very busy- with a near constant stream of people (aussies mainly) trooping in and out of the house. It was great to see everyone again, but it was nearly too busy to spend much time talking to anyone. Edel seemed in particularly good form; not even remotely stressed at the prospect of getting hitched at the end of the week. I didn’t see much of Luke (he was conspicuously keeping a low profile while everyone else was running around getting shit sorted- just right in my book) And the day of the wedding itself went off largely without a hitch. Everyone looked splendid, especially myself if I may say (natty threads courtesy of Mssr Mark Donnelly) and Ma and Pa were positively glowing. Sadly, it was on the wedding day that it all started to go a bit wrong for me. I couldn’t finish my dinner cos I was feeling a bit mbleh, but I put that down to the heat of Kelly’s inn, and was ok again after some fresh air, but decided not to rock the boat by adding drink to the equation. The next day I felt rank- like I’d been chainsmoking woodbines in my sleep- which I put down to overindulging in the cancer sticks at the wedding, and swore off them. The following morning I felt as bad again, this time I blamed Enda, as he can be a bit heavy handed with the deodorant of a morning- and promptly threw all his sprays out and bought him a roll on. The next morning I felt truly crummy and was shit out of people to blame. Someone pointed out that perhaps I was suffering from hay fever. I’d never had it before, but the symptoms seemed to tally and since it was hotter than I could ever remember it being before, I thought perhaps the pollen had overcome my immunities. Either way, I spent the rest of that day and all of the next feeling like I’d been run over by a particularly dusty bus and mum got me sorted out with a doctors appointment. This didn’t help since by the time I got to see him I had been quaffing antibiotics, antihistamines, solphadines and anything else vaguely pharmaceutical that I could lay my sweaty hands on, and was improving nicely. He concurred that it sounded like, and in all likelihood was hayfever, but then, as the immediate family and their other halves set off for a weekend in ballycastle, I noted that other people seemed to be catching whatever it was I had. By the time we left Gill, Luke, Sinead, Andrea and Brenda had been struck down- Gills still not at work, and I had to book another day’s holiday on Tuesday cos Monday just fucked me up.
Ballycastle was great though. I hadn’t been there since way back when, and there wasn’t much to do. This time though, I didn’t want to do much cos we’d gone to have, y’know, some time with the familials, just to settle down after the exertions of the wedding and all. We had a party for Olivia, Dad and Joe on Saturday night, and me and Gillo had to leave first thing Sunday morning.
So that was that. Once again, you guys, I’m very very sorry for not getting to meet up with y’all in Dublin or Omagh- laziness and circumstances conspired against me once again, but next time I will remedy this by flying to Dublin before going back up north; just make sure you are still around then, whenever it may be.
In other news, Twinkle has gained .05 of a KG in our absence and has developed a wheezy snore. Gill’s had her to the vet who assures us that it’s nothing to worry about, though if the vets in Hillsborough are on a par with the doctors, she could well have the black death and we’d be none the wiser.
Until next we meet,
Aido ‘Fried’ Potato
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Welcome one and welcome all. This is coming to you live from home base. Myself and Gill arrived back in Derryclooney yesterday for what promises to be the celebration of the century as Edel and Luke prepare for their connubials.
The house was in a typical state of mayhem when we got here; we travelled from the airport with Luke’s best man Ken who claims to have never met so many people in one day before. He’s hoping to upstage Edels performance at his wedding a few years ago when she had to be tastefully removed by Luke before 10 o clock. Bless.
So the familial units all seem to have been functioning more or less to satisfaction in my absence- dad has ostensibly retired now, but in truth he’s sold off all the milking herd and bought in twice as many calves to keep himself busy. Mums says she sees about as much of him now as she did before he retired. Ho hum.
Aside from all this not that much has been happening. I’ve been conserving cash and energy for the wedding, so my already comatose social life has been pronounced officially dead (for the time being at least) but hey if any of my homeboys are reading this I do hope you will be around for a few jars at some point over the next few weeks- you know it makes sense.
Big Brother continues to shock and depress in equal measure. I had thought last week that the housemates had finally got with the program and seen through Maxwell’s cheeky chappie exterior to the bigoted pork-faced pot-bellied shit factory underneath, but since the deserved expulsion of Saskia (giant haystack’s sister) the women of the house have been lining up to throw themselves at him in the sluttiest ways imaginable. The charitable part of me wants to believe that this is as part of a protracted fuck you to saskia, but the real evidence shows that these women are one part vitriol (the part that deals with other women or sexually unavailable men) and five parts preening, oversexed, vanity. (The part that deals with Maxwell and Anthony [closeted disco gerbil]). My favorite bit was when Craig, driven temporarily insane with jealousy, attempted to literally scare all the women away from Anthony, before weeping for eight straight hours. As such the rollicking fun of watching everyone taking potshots at their ‘crew’ last week, has given way once more to the lingering desire to see the house and everyone in it napalmed for the good of the gene pool. Except Science. No-one but me seems to like Science; how anyone could have watched that bit last week where he beat Maxwell at staring before launching into his “You’re just a weak man” monologue, then, after Maxwell’s retarded comeback, stating ‘what are you gonna do about it, you flubber?’ without punching the air in glee has been grievously miseducated.
So that’s that.
Aido ‘Jackie O-O-Oh my god’ potato.
The house was in a typical state of mayhem when we got here; we travelled from the airport with Luke’s best man Ken who claims to have never met so many people in one day before. He’s hoping to upstage Edels performance at his wedding a few years ago when she had to be tastefully removed by Luke before 10 o clock. Bless.
So the familial units all seem to have been functioning more or less to satisfaction in my absence- dad has ostensibly retired now, but in truth he’s sold off all the milking herd and bought in twice as many calves to keep himself busy. Mums says she sees about as much of him now as she did before he retired. Ho hum.
Aside from all this not that much has been happening. I’ve been conserving cash and energy for the wedding, so my already comatose social life has been pronounced officially dead (for the time being at least) but hey if any of my homeboys are reading this I do hope you will be around for a few jars at some point over the next few weeks- you know it makes sense.
Big Brother continues to shock and depress in equal measure. I had thought last week that the housemates had finally got with the program and seen through Maxwell’s cheeky chappie exterior to the bigoted pork-faced pot-bellied shit factory underneath, but since the deserved expulsion of Saskia (giant haystack’s sister) the women of the house have been lining up to throw themselves at him in the sluttiest ways imaginable. The charitable part of me wants to believe that this is as part of a protracted fuck you to saskia, but the real evidence shows that these women are one part vitriol (the part that deals with other women or sexually unavailable men) and five parts preening, oversexed, vanity. (The part that deals with Maxwell and Anthony [closeted disco gerbil]). My favorite bit was when Craig, driven temporarily insane with jealousy, attempted to literally scare all the women away from Anthony, before weeping for eight straight hours. As such the rollicking fun of watching everyone taking potshots at their ‘crew’ last week, has given way once more to the lingering desire to see the house and everyone in it napalmed for the good of the gene pool. Except Science. No-one but me seems to like Science; how anyone could have watched that bit last week where he beat Maxwell at staring before launching into his “You’re just a weak man” monologue, then, after Maxwell’s retarded comeback, stating ‘what are you gonna do about it, you flubber?’ without punching the air in glee has been grievously miseducated.
So that’s that.
Aido ‘Jackie O-O-Oh my god’ potato.
