Born of Our Land?

I've decided it's time for one of my rants. I think I've been very good and not ranted in awhile.
Actually, that's probably a blatant lie.

But it's my blog and I'll rant if I want to.

Our story starts with a Myspace message from a man. Let's call him Dave...because that's his name. Sorry Dave, not terribly bothered about identity protection right now.

Anyway, this Dave character obviously went cruising through the Myspace profiles and came across mine. So he sent me a message, something along the lines of a gushing

"Oh my god! You're from Ireland, that's sooo cool, I'm Irish too!"

And I think we can probably assume he's one of those who pronounces it "Eye-rrrr-land".
I don't know about the rest of you, and I can't speak for the rest of the country, but I know most of us pronounce it "Ar-land".

Anyhow, a brief click away led me to Eager Dave's stats. Male, in his 20s, oh and what have we here? From Kentucky. Right. Nuff said.

He also informed me that because he was Irish, he drank Jack Daniels. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I was under the understanding JD was from Tennessee. Unless there's a secret brewery in Bray or somewhere, sounds like Eager Dave is full of shit.

Americans, I can appreciate that you may have some grandfather from Mayo or somewhere, but that doesn't mean that you personally are Irish.

You don't need to drink gallons of Guiness (I was born and raised in Dublin and can't STAND the stuff), you don't need to parade around with tattoos of the Irish flag, and you certainly don't need to tell complete strangers that you're Irish, when quite clearly, you're not.

Get an Irish passport. Live hear for a decade or so. Learn to bitch and moan about everything from Bertie to the rain, and then maybe, just maybe, you could consider yourself "Irish".

It bothers me greatly and kind of insults me the way Americans do that.
You're American. Land of the free and home of the Twizzlers. You have an awesome country. Appreciate it.

Hertiage is great and all, but it's what led to your existence, not what defines it.

Flying high

When I was a teenager, I had pink hair, clothes covered in safety pins and thought Sid Vicious was the most beautiful thing that had ever lived.

I had a very varied and eclectic group of friends, and am still friends with some to this day. Some of them were really smart, some the funny types, some conservative, some a bit mad and some were the token hippie types.

You know the type... bringing dazed and confused to a whole new level.
My dad once joked that I didn't have friends in high places, but rather high friends in places.

Anyway, I was never into the whole stoner thing. Never really saw the point.

These days, the people I'm friends with aren't into drugs or anything like that. Sure, we go out and get drunk, but drugs don't come into the equation.

However, I recently found one person who was at one point a very close friend with an ever-growing fondness for weed. I started seeing this friend less and less, and whether it was due to us living different lives, me being so busy with college or just her getting so involved in her new stoned life, I don't know.

But it's never a nice feeling growing apart from a friend, whatever the reason.

I guess just some people are high-flyers...and other people just get high.

The Real Borat?

I came across this website ages ago, but has anyone ever heard of this guy before?
He's awesome. Apparently he was a big influence for Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat:



His website's http://istanbul.tc/mahir/mahir/ , for those of you who are interested.

Lessons in Ettiquette

Chivalry's dead. We know that much.
And the days of common courtesy? Long since past.

But blunt, blatant rudeness? That's a new one.

I've always been the kind of girl to say please and thank you, hold open doors for old people, offer guests food or tea.
And that's always who I'll be. I can't abide rudeness or people who ignore these common courtesies. It's just disrespectful.

But being polite to men?
Wow, that's a minefield.

Drunk men are just complete landmines in general.
Be polite to one of them, and automatically they think "Result! I'm totally in with a shot"

Yeah.. no thanks.
So girls, ignore your p's and q's and have another drink.
I recently met a man out on one of my adventures in inebrity.
He was quite nice, Italian, but a little sleazy.

Fortunately, I'd gone past the tequila threshold and was at the point where I was speaking without thinking, and having a great time.

Believe it or not, I actually spoke the immortal words: "Get your coat love, you've pulled."
I thought this was hilarious and went about giggling to myself at my (seemingly) ironic genius.
He, however, was delighted with himself.


I'm sure we've all been privy to the company of a man suffering from octopus syndrome.

There's a simple cure, and it's not getting your friends to pretend there's an emergency, or trying to disappear to the bathroom and not come back.
No, it's very simple:
Be rude.
Be a bitch.
And no matter what, be so blunt that you'll still be laughing come morning.


Have a good one.

The wonder that is The Emo Fringe

I had a thought earlier on...
In recent years, we've all seen the phenomenon that is the emo fringe, right?
The ever-so-unattractive sweep of hair across one's forehead. Perfect for creating that ever essential air of mystery, or rather, a sense of anonymity. Not only do you get to blend in amongst a sea of people with the same haircut, but you also get partial facial obscurity. Result.

I got to thinking though, and realised.... isn't the emo fringe like a younger version of the combover? Today's high-stylin', makeup wearing, skinny jeans afficionados are just tomorrow's balding men with a beer gut and an ugly check shirt.



Attractive, huh?

Also, is the emo haircut not a bit like a mullet, but in reverse?
With a mullet, we're talking short hair in front, long and dangly down the back. An emo has short hair in the back, with a sweeping fringe across their face.


(Truly FABULOUS photo, by the way)


There's some food for thought, my friends.

The Skanks are Starting Young These Days

I was perusing Perez earlier, and one of his posts made me think of something.
Young famous girls are getting skankier earlier and earlier than their predecessors.

There seems to be this uncontrollable urge in young Hollywood for all the starlets to out-skank each other.

Example:

Who hasn't seen those photos of the Disney Channel princess, Miley Cyrus?

You know the ones I mean, the Annie Leibovitz Vanity Fair photos.
Sure, they were very well taken photos by a phenomenal photographer, but let's bear in mind that the girl is 15 years old.

Another young skank is Vanessa Hudgens. I'm sure everyone remembers that scandal with the naked photos.

Who's next, Ashley Tisdale?

We've all probably been guilty of looking a bit skanky, or posing ridiculously just so we look pretty on our Myspace pages, but there is such thing as too young. I'm 22 and would be fairly creeped out by some middle aged guy perving over a photo of me on a website, so why is it that a 15 year old doesn't seem to really care?

Also, in the case of Miley Cyrus, she's not just a nameless teenager. She's a celebrity, and something of a role model for little girls, considering most of her fans would probably be in the 8-14 age group.

When you're famous and fully aware that everything you do is going to be noticed, why do you start posting photos like this on the internet?:

To most people acting the absolute fool, I'd usually say "grow up", but in this case, I think that's exactly the problem...

So, here I'm going to say "Act your age".. and, Miley? Your age isn't that of a 25 year old porn star. Just so we're clear, love.

What's your Status?

I was just on one of those social networking sites, and noticed that one of the information fields was 'social status'..
Now, looking at this, one might wonder what exactly a social status is.
I suppose anything that makes us different or groups us into a certain category in society is a social status.
Blue collar, white collar. Working class, middle class. School leaver, University graduate.
All of these 'statuses' are different to each other. All of them hold categories where one is seen as being 'better' than the other.

Naturally, on one of these sites, one would assume that the social status was in reference to the person's employment.

Wrong. This referred to whether or not the person was in a relationship.

Their status in society was determined by whether or not they have someone that they find mutually attractive enough to keep around.

Seriously, what kind of a society is it when your status in it, the thing that ranks you, segregates you, marks you, is something so trivial and inane?

Ridiculous, really.

Sell your soul - get on the Dole!

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I have a problem with the Dole.

You can call me stuck up, or snobby, or whatever else your little heart desires, but the fact of the matter is, I have a huge, enormous, excruciating problem with the Dole.
Why such a loathing for the unemployment benefit, you may ask?

Simple. Because it's just that. An Unemployment Benefit. But yet there's a vast number of people that seem to think it's a Sit on Your Arse and Do Fuck-All Benefit.

The dole was created so that people who had lost their jobs or couldn't find jobs could keep themselves afloat whilst looking for work.

All very well and good, but of course, this is Ireland, and Ireland wouldn't be Ireland without people trying to get something for nothing.

The government may be crap, and yes, the opportunities for jobs in this country aren't the best, but the fact of the matter is that we still go to school, college, work, whatever. We work to earn a living. We work hard and long hours and save for holidays and Christmas and go on nights out and really appreciate what we're earning. Most of us anyway.
But what we also do is pay tax. We pay tax, and we grumble and moan about it and bitch about how the Government doesn't need any more money.
And this very same government, the one that's taking our money and making us pay tax because we work, is taking that money and giving it to people because they DON'T work.

How many people who are on the Dole can honestly say that for every month they've been on it, they've been actively out seeking work? Not many, I'd wager.

Let me tell you something. When I was in Second year of college, I had a really shitty job. It was hard, hard work and left you feeling insanely drained at the end of the day. Granted, I only worked Saturdays and Sundays, but throw this in on top of my college work, I was knackered. I got paid €120 per week, for working those two days. Not great, but when you're in college and all you really care about is having money for pints and a 3-in-1 from Charlie's on the way home, you get by.
So, there I was. Getting €120 per week, and a friend who's on the dole informs me that she's taking in €195 per week. To say I was disgusted was something of an understatement.

I was going to lectures, going to work, doing essays, spending time travelling to and from these places. My friend, on the other hand, was waking at noon, watching reruns of Sex and the City, going out till dawn and having a great time!

I'm not complaning about my own situation. I'm just saying that, put in comparison with people on the dole, what the fuck are we working for?

I'm currently studying for a Masters. And many of you out there are in college too. We're all studying, and working, because we want a good career, right?

Well, the next time you're in the company of a total waster, you may as well write them a cheque. That's where your money's going anyway.

Oh, and worried about the recession? It's okay, there's always the fucking dole.

:)

The Ex Files

They say breaking up is hard to do. Bullshit. Breaking up is easy. It's what follows the breakups that's difficult.

I once dated a guy for quite some time. He's 'The' ex, you know the one I mean. The one you compare future breakups to, the one you bitch about, basically the one that hurt you enought to have any kind of effect on you.

After we broke up, we agreed to stay friends, and it was all very nice...on the surface. We used to hang out, and text each other frequently and talk on the phone and whatnot.

I was young, and stupid, and still had feelings for him, which he well knew, and of course was delighted to get messages from him saying "luv u" and such. Time passed, and his misleading texts and emails continued to the point where I had come to the final straw. Instead of being pleased about the sweet nothings he'd bestow upon me, I realised that's exactly what they were. Nothings. There was nothing there.

This same ex made a pass at me one night. This was my opportunity. I could either reciprocate and delight in a fling with the ex, followed by the despair when I would inevitably realise that no, we're not getting back together, or I could walk away. I walked.

I told him that I was sick of the text messages, sick of the empty "i luv u"s dotted around his emails, sick of him thinking that I was always going to be there. I know what you're thinking. Maybe he missed you and wanted you back... yup, I considered this. But I also considered the fact that at this point we'd been broken up over a year and there wasn't the faintest waft of another girl in his life, whereas I'd gone right through the rebound circuit and out the other side. He was bored, and hadn't so much as kissed another girl, so naturally assumed I would be little Miss Ready Willing and Able.

Think again buddy.

We didn't talk for awhile after that. In time we'd talk again, but things were different. There was no more sweetness, no kindness. He was harsh and cruel and insulting. No doubt bitter with a wounded ego, but he became unbearably nasty.

I'd try to make conversation with him and he'd shoot back some backhanded comment. Trust me, I was no angel to him, and I have an acid tongue and can be an absolute bitch. But in my defence, I did try. I tried to be his friend. Turns out all he wanted was a verbal punch bag.

I'm sure there was nobody else that he spoke to the way he spoke to me. He treated me with no respect and with utter disdain.

I'm glad he's no longer in my life, but it's very sad to see someone who used to be my best friend as well as my boyfriend could turn into someone that I would consider a truly horrible person.

It's taught me a lesson, though. Always evaluate how you speak to people, because you might be completely disrespecting someone without even realising it. And take it from me, it's no fun being on the recieving end of that.

Over the hills and far away...

There's something that's been majorly bothering me this week.
And no, not in my usual cynical way. Actually bothering me.

I live further away from the city than my friends do. As a result of this, it is understandable that I would often meet my friends in towns or the city closer than my house is. But what happens when I get sick of having to take two buses to get to my friends' houses? I've stopped driving thanks to this wonderful law that prohibits learner drivers from driving without a fully licensed driver, which means that my means of transport has been downgraded to the delight that is Dublin Bus.

Let me just say this: I have lived in my current home for ten years. I am used to travelling to places. But I'm also damn sick of it. I'm tired of people making excuses and me having to travel out to their houses. I'm sick of having to leave parties and places early just so I can get back home. I'm sick of going out so far away from my home and having to trek back while my friends can walk back to their houses.

I'm putting my foot down. I am done travelling. I am done going to people's houses.
From now on, I am only visiting people for every visit they give me.
You want me to come to your house? Great. Make the fucking effort to travel out to me and then I'll extend the same courtesy.

Yes, you might find it a pain to get out here, but just think of all the times you've gotten me to travel out to you.

Not fair, is it?

You're sharing, but is anyone caring?

For those of us with a Myspace account, I'm sure we've all noticed the vast amounts of heavily made-up teenage girls moaning about their lives via bulletin or blog, right?

They sit and pour out their little hearts to the people of the internet, in the hope that someone out there will care enough to talk to them... or in this case, post a blog comment. (By the way, I feel I should mention that I'm fully aware how hypocritical this sounds... the only difference is I couldn't care less whether I get comments on this post or not)

Is there actually anybody out there that finds genuine comfort from seeking the solace of strangers?
I'm just curious.


On another note, The Cure rock... how have I not listened to them in months??
Oh and Noel Fielding... yes you would.

sour grapes?

Dear me...
Just reading back through some past entries, I have one thing to say: I come across as an awfully cynical girl, don't I?

I swear I'm not as bitter as I sound! :)

Maybe someday I'll be a white picket fence, his n hers towels, Sunday date night, red roses, soppy romance novel kind of girl...
But until then, I'll remain a vodka swilling, eyeliner wearing, incessantly laughing and horrendously sarcastic girl.

It's not him, it's you.

There's been something that's been bothering me for awhile, something people are forever getting confused about, and I think it's about time I had a little rant about it...

For us women, I'm sure we've all had situations where we meet a guy, it seems to be going okay, and then he informs you that he 'just isn't up for a relationship right now'.
Fair enough, right? I mean, he likes you and all, he just doesn't want something serious... Right?

Wrong.
Harsh fact is, if he's telling you that he doesn't want a relationship now, you can probably take that as he doesn't want a relationship with YOU right now.

If you meet someone, and they're so incredible, and you click with them so well and are so attracted to them, and know they're into you; are you going to tell them that you don't want to be in a relationship right now and watch them float away to the next person, one who'll really appreciate them? Or, are you going to go for it?

Chances are, you're going to go for it. If you don't, we're probably talking a fear of commitment, and that's a whole different ball game.

You meet a guy, he gives you the 'no relationship' spiel, and then a couple weeks later he has a girlfriend? Yeah... he didn't suddenly realize he wanted a relationship. he just suddenly met the person he wanted one with.

Having said all that, I'm sure we've all been on the other side of the equation too. Someone wants to get serious with you, and you're just not down with it. You tell them you don't want to date anyone right now, and maybe you think that's how you actually feel, but deep down, it's most likely because they didn't make you feel That Thing.

So to anyone who's still waiting by the phone in case that guy changes his mind, or in case you can convince him that you're okay with having a casual fling... just admit it, it's probably not going to happen.

Besides, he probably wasn't that great anyway.

The journey approaches...

In just three days, yours truly will be setting off for 22 days Interrailing.

I'm so unbelievably excited.
I went shopping earlier, and got such thrilling things as sunscreen, socks and hair clips.

I absolutely adore packing for holidays.
My only qualm is that as I'm backpacking through Europe, I'm limited to what I can take. This'll be interesting...
This is what I think our route is...

Au revoir!

Things to do before you're thirty

In the spirit of setting challenges for oneself, I came across this list online, and thought it'd be interesting to compare my own experiences. I've put all that I have done in bold, and judging by the lack of thicker text, it looks like I have some catching up to do:

1. Have a really stupid accident which necessitates a hospital visit (this I have done, and am now the bearer of a small scar by my nose and a crooked baby finger on my right hand, the result of a break that shall never heal)

2. Shoot something
3. Take a weekend break more than 1000 miles from home
4. Boot Linux on your home PC
5. Get lost in a country where you don't speak the language (Spanish exchange, I was 16. Spent more time delighting in the fact that I could legally buy Bacardi Breezers rather than learning Spanish)

6. Spend more than your monthly income on a pocket sized gadget
7. Post bail for a friend
8. Break a really large plate glass window (Again, resulting in a small scar, this time on my right leg. Never skateboard near glass)

9. Make a parachute jump on a hangover
10. Use a whole roll of gaffa tape in one day
11. Make a pointless modification to your house
12. Neck a pint of peppermint oil
13. Pull a shemale by mistake (but realise in time...)
14. Buy a samurai sword
15. Delay paying a bill until the summons arrives
16. Destroy a speed camera
17. Refill an inkjet cartridge
18. Say something obscene on national television
19. Do a J turn in order to beat somebody to a parking space
20. Break a sledgehammer
21. Make a bomb
22. Smash a CRT
23. Require medical treatment as a consequence of kinky sex gone wrong (STDs don't count.)
24. Tip a waiter with something other than money
25. Light a fire with petrol
26. Kidnap someone
27. Park inside a motorway service station
28. Own a convertible.
29. Live abroad. (Denver. 3 months. Russian flatmates. Interesting summer)
30. Drive at more than 140mph.
31. Get something for free through a masterpiece of complaining
32. Give yourself a mains electric shock.
33. Completely dismantle an object larger than yourself
34. Write off a car
35. Fall asleep and get really hilarious sunburn
36. Get drunk on Absinthe (Oh dear. I was not very popular with my then-boyfriend the next day)
37. Stay up all night listening to a girl have an emotional crisis
38. Lick the terminals of a 9 volt battery
39. Take part in motorsport
40. Stay at the office for more than 24 hours
41. Set off a fire extinguisher
42. Drive at least 600 miles in a day on two lane roads
43. Hotwire a car
44. Watch all the Monty Python films In one sitting
45. Shag an ex by mistake
46. Dial 999
47. Commit a faux pas which means that a friend will never speak to you again
48. Make a bet you couldn't afford to lose
49. Read a 500 page book in one sitting
50. Escape a perfectly justified parking ticket.

New Leaves and Pet Peeves

I’m sure we’ve all had our phases where we feel that our life is inanely boring and wish something exciting would happen, am I right?
Being in one of those phases lately myself, I realised that I could either sit around and wait for something to happen, or I could go out there and make it happen myself.
Fuelled by this idea, I accepted challenges laid down to me by my flatmates. Nothing major, mind, just doing things that I would not have considered before.
Following one success, I was excited to set myself challenges and goals. I figure, if I can constantly have my mind focused on something I want to do, something I should do, or something I wish I could do but have always been to scared to, I’ll never be bored.
So it is with this new interest in trying new things that I have made a decision: from now until the end of December this year, I am going to lay down a list of things that I have never done, and all that are completely possible. On January 1st next year, I’ll review the list and see how much I have (or haven’t) achieved.
This could get interesting. Now all I need to figure out what my challenges are…

Oh and before I forget: Knackers shouting at strangers on the bus. Is this really necessary?
Strangers trying to talk to you at the bus stop. iPod firmly in ears, book in hand. A welcoming gesture? I think not. Please leave me and my wonderfully cheesy 80s music be, thanks.

Summer draws to a close...

I had all but forgot that I have a blog, and have decided to randomly make a post.

Summer is coming to an end.
And what an interesting one it was!

I moved out of home.
I almost moved to Switzerland.
I made new friends and caught up with old.
I got a new job.
I quit the new job.

and now... I'm going interrailing.

Around Europe in 22 days.
This is going to be interesting.

I'll keep you posted.

Valentine's approaches..

this about sums it up

Once bitter..

So Valentine's day is coming up and I was just thinking about how much I hate it, and have always hated it. If someone loves you, do you really need a tacky teddy bear holding a heart and some awkward card to prove it?
However,it's all very well and good to be in a relationship and proclaim your hatred for the lovefest, and as a result will be hailed as independent from your partner and have your mind on a higher plain that all the tack. Oh but if you're single... if you're single, you are not independent, you're bitter and cynical and secretly wish you had someone to send you a satin heart with "I love you" embroidered on it.
Yes, that's exactly it. I'm terribly bitter and long for a room filled with cheap mementos of someone who once had a fleeting interest and deigned to buy me a trinket bound for a dusty shelf.
Spare me. I'll just take the presents the other 364 days of the year, thanks.

Girls vs. Boys

When a boy is angry at a girl, his friends shrug and he goes on is angry little way.
When a girl is angry at a boy, all her friends get angry too and a little pink army is formed to combat the offensive boy by snubbing and snide comments.

No wonder guys hate meeting our friends.
A certain fallen-from-grace boy is s trying to get back into my good books, and my girl friends are most definitely not happy about it.
See that's the problem with having your army of girls. Once you hate someone, you're meant to hate them for life, not accept their apologies. Because in the eyes of your girls, that's never cool.

Poor boys.

Totally mad for

Salad with balsamic vinaigrette.
Since my family seem to routinely forget that I'm a vegetarian (and have been for 9 years) it's one of the only things in the house I can eat.
But my god...yum.

I'm with the band

Last night was the best!
I randomly phoned one of my friends to see if she wanted to have some tea, when she persuaded me to drive into town as she and two others were on the guestlist for New Found Glory, and they'd try blag me in too.
So I drove in and met up with the girls, and thanks to one of their frineds, they'd gotten on the guestlist as the friend's boyfriend was in the support band.
After much persuading and pleading with the door staff, we manage to convince the girl there that I was meant to have been on the list too, and voila, wristband slapped on, and we headed inside.

New Found Glory were pretty crap, but I knew that anyway. Even so, it made me feel a wave of nostalgia for my 15 year old self, thinking I was totally hardcore going to my little rock shows and bopping about in the 'pit'.

Although, upon inspecting my minor cuts and bruises today, I think at 21, it might be time to retire.

Art is where the Heart is

Art is wonderful.
It's seriously the most enjoyable thing, drawing and painting and whatnot.
And not to shamelessly plug myself here, but I'm rather pleased with one of my latest creations, which can be found with some of my others on my Deviantart http://pinkvoodoo.deviantart.com/.

Seriously though, gotta love the creativity.
And Frank Miller.
Yes, I do love him.

Shirk the work

Well my lovely manager decided to let me go home early today as I am still clearly rather ill. So tonight I have an exciting date with my duvet and girlie DVDs along the lines of Step Up and Legally Blonde.

However, I do have to go back in tomorrow as I'm the only photographer on duty and my day will be a delightful blur (emphasis on blur due to my dizzy flu state) of bright lights, crying children and people who don't speak English, thus resulting in my making ridiculous hand gestures to try get my point across. I bet they really do understand me first time but just want to embarrass me by making me look like an idiot.

Although this language barrier can be pretty amusing at times. A guy I work with told me a story about a customer he had come across. The customer spoke Dutch and my colleague asked him if he'd rather they spoke Dutch instead of English (obviously my colleague speaks Dutch too) and the customer replies:
"No, I have been speaking Englishes for very long distances and extremely deliciously".

Love it.

Narcissistic?

I find this whole blogging thing to be rather addictive.
But is it not rather narcissistic to find pleasure in pontificating about oneself? Whatever.
On a different note, the Rolling Stones are a bit awesome.

flu

I have managed to spend over 24 hours in bed.
That's definitely a new record, even for me.
Having the flu is never fun, and what makes it even less so is the fact that I have to work tomorrow. Great, dizziness, illness and screaming children do not a winning combination make.
I also had a rather embarrassing moment with the mailman this morning. I was going out to my car to get something, still in my pjs with my hair a mess, the wind blowing it in my face, so I didn't notice him come up next to me, which resulted in me screaming, trying to apologise to him while taking the letter, all the while confusing my friend, who I had been on the phone to.
Fun stuff.
I'm going back to bed now, I think.
Arrivederci.