tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49022178569239755572024-03-13T18:08:01.349+00:00The diary of Tamara GoodThis is the diary of Tamara Good. Not quite the same ring to it as Anne Frank but I think you'll find mine to be a little more “outdoorsy”. All my life, I have sought humour and happiness at the expense of others, and on the whole it has been a gratifying existence. My daily events may not be filled with the excitement and adventure of war time Amsterdam, but I can promise judgement, taunting, name calling, belittling and casual racism.
I regret nothing.EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-63815160190427660622012-08-21T17:03:00.001+01:002012-08-21T17:03:19.407+01:00<br />
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<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Tuesday 23<sup>rd</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I walked to work, contemplating
all the small things that particularly nark me, coming to the conclusion that
it is not the little things that count, but rather the little things that
mount. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly your day can turn to shit. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Take green men for example. I am
not talking about the little green men people claim to see from time to time,
usually people living in the back arse of nowhere, with nothing better to do
than make ridiculously false claims of alien sightings because their nearest
neighbour lives seventeen miles away, and anal probing seems the most likely
scenario to attract attention.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I am in fact talking about green
men of the traffic variety, those flashing, beeping indicators that determine
whether or not you will make it to your destination in a prompt and timely
manner. My gripe is not at all in their existence, in fact I am grateful for
the safe passage they occasionally grant me, but rather the inherent design
flaws they all seem to possess. Why is it that the time allotted to cross the
road is never in direct proportion to the width of the road? A street as wide
as a hundred yards might allow a meagre, life threatening five seconds to
cross, while on other streets, where the opposite footpath is within spitting
distance, we are afforded an excessive fifteen seconds, where a pensioner and
her crippled corgi could cross at a leisurely pace. And with time to spare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">And while I'm on the subject of
gripes, why do people insist on power walking behind you on a narrow footpath,
sigh as they have to get off the footpath to go around you, and then
immediately slow down once they are in front of you? And when did it become
acceptable to cough or sneeze without covering your mouth? And why, after
thousands of years of existence, do people still not understand the god given
right to personal space? People, it is never alright to breathe, cough or
sneeze on another human being! Even in a fight, that would be considered bad
form. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I no longer have the patience or
the inclination for that matter, to deal with the incompetent and the downright
goofy. When are we all going to realise that they serve no purpose here on
earth? To quote Billy Connolly, if I may, 'I think it's time to trim the herd!'</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">When Newbies' was the first face
I saw as I arrived at work, I knew this was going to be an all-out piss take of
a day. Green men had conspired against me from the moment I left my apartment,
I was virtually dry humped in a queue for coffee and now Newbie's pale freckled
face was a mere foot from mine. I had a good mind to sneeze, hands free. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">He greeted me with his usual
amount of dim witted enthusiasm and then skipped off to annoy someone else. It
took every fibre of my being to not extend my leg as he frolicked past, sending
him face first into the cooker doors, so that not only would I have the
pleasure of his pain, but he'd also be subject to the unsightly reflection I was
forced to endure only moments before. However, due to recent near hits on the
unemployment front, I am required to take a more subtle approach when abusing
my co-workers. Softly softly catchy Newbie, and all that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert spent the entire day
peddling Rob, despite the fact that I have adamantly refused to meet him. I am
very much aware however, that when it comes to Bert, resistance is futile.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I threw in the towel shortly
before six, rushed home and prepared for a date I didn't want to go on.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I had two options:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Make a concerted
effort to look like shit, ensuring that there will be no possibility of a
second date.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">OR</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Make a concerted
effort to look good, on the off chance that Rob isn't a feckless, socially
inept, shite talking man, who could no more provide a conversation than he
could an orgasm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The sex embargo has thus far
lasted six months and three days, and I was naively hoping that a prolonged
bout of celibacy would encourage the return of my virginity, so that when the
dry spell ended, so to speak, I could start afresh, thereby eliminating any
pesky expectations (temptation to write sexpectations was almost more than I
could bear). Even alluding to it scratches the itch somewhat.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>It's not easy to find someone to spend
your precious time with, even on a casual basis. I don't know if there is a man
out there with whom I am willing to be naked, someone I find tolerable enough
to wake up to in the morning. If past experience is anything to go by then the
answer would have to be most assuredly no. Even with low expectations, I
anticipate disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">After several failed attempts to
find a suitable mate, I concluded that I could either go it alone or come up
with a better method of distinguishing between an acceptable man and an utter
twat. My own company, though delightful, could very well become tedious in
time, and the self-pleasure section of Ann Summers holds no attraction for me. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">So with no other options
available, I devised a fool proof plan to isolate the weak from the strong, and
by doing so, I could hopefully avoid the hell out of them. The resulting plan
consisted of seven tests a man must endure before he can even be considered
tolerable company.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">First Impressions</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Though I would not consider myself a shallow person, I
do have certain criteria that must be met. You may not be prettier than me,
dress better than me, or have longer hair than me. Let's be clear about this- I
am the woman, NOT YOU!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I'm not your
slave</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: And I am not your mother. I do
not love you unconditionally and I never will. However, should a terrible
accident befall you, through no fault of your own, leaving you horribly
disfigured and crippled for life, I am willing to bend this rule slightly. For
example, I will hold the straw to your lips to quench your thirst, but I will not
prepare the beverage beforehand. This is the job of a nurse, or possibly your
mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Table manners</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: This rule is basically a list of inexcusable habits
from which there is no comeback. Eating with your fingers, licking your
fingers, licking the plate and/or cutlery, eating with your mouth open, talking
with your mouth full, incorrect use of your knife and fork, loud breathing
through the nose while eating, using the napkin to blow your nose (I don't care
how spicy your meal was), slurping your tea/coffee/wine/beer, or eating from my
plate without my expressed consent. Any of the above will result in immediate
dismissal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Hungry c**ts</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: If you don't care for that particular term, I can think
of a few other ways to make my point. I<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>am
not</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>interested, if any of the
following apply to your character:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">(a) He's so mean if he found a packet of corn plasters,
he'd buy tight shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">(b) If he was a ghost he wouldn't give you a fright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">(c) He'd live in your ear and rent out the other one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">(d) He's as tight as a fly's arse on a frosty day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Idle chit chat</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: This is not a hard and fast rule. I'm not made of
stone. I can understand that nerves play a major role in the rot that falls out
of your mouth in the initial stages. It is conversations about the weather that
I can and will not abide. Yes it's still raining and it will almost definitely
rain tomorrow, and I do not need you or the weather channel to tell me that.
Either stay indoors or shut the fuck up!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">IQ</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: I am not looking for a Stephen Fry (too old) or a
Stephen Hawking (too much legwork), just a man that can hold his own in a
conversation, with an above average grasp of the English language. Incorrect
use of grammar is not cool. Be advised; a double negative does not make a
positive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Sense of humour</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: This is of the utmost importance. The unfunny and
unspeakably dull need not apply. There are no grey areas on this one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Rob arrived at eight on the
button. Urgh! Eager!! Had he arrived late however, I would have been equally
pissed off, and naturally thought him to be an inconsiderate prick. I did not
see this going well for him. He is attractive, as Bert had claimed, and capable
of dressing himself, which may seem like a given, but I assure you it is not.
I'll never fully comprehend the reasoning behind wearing your jeans so far
below your underwear that the task of putting trousers on in the first place
becomes counterproductive. If you do not intend to cover your ass then what
possible reason is there for wearing pants? His hair had some gel in it, but
not so much so that I could mould it into a miniature of the Statue of Liberty
or Eiffel Tower.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I think that covers all the bases
on my first impressions check-list:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Attractive, or
reasonably so. At the very least cute.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>√<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The ability to dress
oneself.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>√<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The knowledge that
you are in fact a man, and that your hair should reflect that.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>√<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Having passed the first in a
series of rigorous tests, I invited him in, and made him feel welcome by
offering him a choice of tea or coffee, such is the custom. He declined,
thereby passing test number two which is...I am not your mother- get your own
damn tea. This offer was perfunctory, and should not be seen as a promise of
things to come. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">He made inane chit chat, while I
looked for my keys and tried to come up with a polite way to tell him that idle
chit chat does not wash with me. Turns out there is no way, so we set off for
the restaurant, with him still talking and me slowly losing the will to live.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Number three is the real test of
a man's worth. The ability to eat in a way that doesn't make me want to push
their face into their plate. This is where most men trip up and I had no doubt,
Rob here, would be no different. Silence descended as we perused the menus, a
silence he clearly couldn't handle but which I found delightful. His foot was
tapping rhythmically against the leg of the table as he racked his brain for
something to say. The waitress approached and he made the classic first date rookie
mistake of ordering pasta. But then surprised me, by taking a calculated
approach to his meal, turning his plate in a clockwise motion, methodically
cutting through the ribbons of pasta so as to not slurp every slippery strand,
and douse the pristine tablecloth in errant splatters of sauce. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Each mouthful reached its target,
and I could feel the threat of hope beginning to creep in.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">He took a break from small talk
for the duration of the meal, and we discussed various topics of interest, such
as work, music, books and of course, our matchmaker Bert. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Rob had been a neighbour of
Bert's for more than three years and so quite familiar with his, let's say,
unusual personality traits. Their first exchange was a heated one, as Rob was
keen on loud music, while Bert was not. Two days later, Rob got home to find
the volume dial on his sound system missing, and a note attached to one of the
speakers...</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">If you ever want to see your
knob again, I suggest you look down.</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert.</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">To this day, Rob has no idea how
Bert got into his apartment. He did however have a deadbolt installed the
following day. The bill arrived two hours later, which he generously offered to
pay, and even though I declined, I appreciated the gesture. After a minimum of fuss,
he agreed to go halvsies. He walked me home and stood on the steps of my
building with an expectant look on his hopeful little face. I gave him a modest
kiss on the cheek and said goodnight. It's gonna take more than a meal my
friend!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I climbed into bed alone and read
my book, picking up where I left off. As opposed to going to the last page and
reading backwards, or flicking through the pages till I found one I liked the
look of. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">What a ridiculous expression:</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">picking up where you left off</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">At what other point in any given
task would you continue?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I fell asleep not long after,
picking up where I left off this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-49831218679396286932012-07-26T12:35:00.000+01:002012-07-26T12:35:25.165+01:00<br />
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<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Monday 22<sup>nd</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The solicitor, Mr Harding, was
prompt and efficient, arriving exactly on time and immediate in his business.
He was clearly familiar with the layout of the house as we followed him to the
study to begin proceedings. At least I think it was the study. It was one of
many rooms in the house filled with books, so it could just as easily have been
the library, or the other library or the office. It's not important. There were
eleven of us in total, gathered in the study, awaiting the outcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert was the model of
indifference, laying casually across a camel wing back, his long legs swinging
playfully over the side. His family on the other hand, perched on the edge of
their chairs, were beginning to sweat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Mr Harding got right to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">A reading of The Last Will and
Testament, according to Joe;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">“I, Joe Turner, being of sound
mind and body, do hereby bequeath the farmhouse and all of its contents to my
son, Bertrand Turner. The ninety eight acres on which it stands, the stables
and any and all livestock, I leave to my son. The cottage in Cobh, and my home
for the first sixteen years of my life and the numerous antiques therein, I
leave to my son. Any property, material possessions, or monetary wealth I may
have at the time of my death, I leave to my son. To my sister, Morag, her
husband Mick, and all the subsequent children calved as a result of their
loathsome alliance, I leave nothing. Not a penny. Not a red cent.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The room was deathly quiet and
then Bert started to laugh. He laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks,
and his face turned red from lack of oxygen. Standing in the corner, Mr Harding
held a single finger to his pursed lips and despite his best efforts, I could
see a grin beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. The other eight sat
stock still, frozen in disbelief. Bert eventually composed himself, and picking
up the large sheepskin rug, which he draped across his shoulders, proceeded to
stride around the room, humming the tune to “If I were a rich man”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Da Dee Da Dee Da Dee Dum.....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert was two verses in before the
guests finally got the hint. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Red faced and furious, the eight
exited the room, muttering various threats and expletives under their breath.
Bert thanked Mr Harding and assured him he would be in contact regarding his
inheritance and the sale of the house. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">When all the guests had departed,
Bert stood in the hallway with a vague smile on his face. I was genuinely happy
for him but there was something I just couldn't let go.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-<i>Bertrand???<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-That's Lord Bertrand to you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-My apologies, so what's the plan of action?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Money bath?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-I like it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Unfortunately, the money bath had
to be postponed until Bert was actually in possession of his inheritance, and
since that was weeks away, we decided to head back to Dublin to celebrate in
style. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">On the drive back, we stopped at
the cemetery to say a proper goodbye to Joe. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I waited in the car and watched,
as Bert pilfered flowers from the adjoining graves, picking through various
bunches, and throwing back carnations in disgust. After some serious
deliberation, he eventually settled on a bunch of Tiger Lilies in the next row.
A classy choice by Bertrand.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert made a few phone calls and
our entire evening was arranged by the time we arrived at my apartment. As I
rummaged for my keys Bert pulled yet another note off my front door. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">He read out the brief note,
another soliloquy dedicated to yours truly, and true to form, it had all the
charm and eloquence of the first.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">“<i>Ms Good, it is becoming clear
to me that you think that the rules of this building do not apply to you.
Though it is not written in the lease, as it was not felt necessary, it is
still and shall always be forbidden to attack crows from your balcony.
Furthermore, the residents of this building would greatly appreciate it if you
would refrain from befriending the local vagrants, as it lowers the tone of the
area. Failure to adhere to either of the above will result in a final written
warning, and should your shenanigans continue, eviction from the building.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">George.”</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Well, if that's how you want to
play it George, that's fine by me. You might have the residents on your side,
and possibly the ISPCA, but I have something you'll never have...an overgrown
man-child with no conscience to speak of and a penchant for evil dealings. You
will rue the day you messed with me. And Bert! Actually, maybe just Bert.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I prepared for the evening ahead,
as Bert set to work on designing an elaborate scheme to wreak havoc on the life
of one George Barry. By the time I emerged from my room, fully equipped for a
night out, Bert was still busy, furiously scribbling away on a notepad he'd
requested earlier. Wads of paper were strewn about the floor, illegible
markings scrawled across them in red ink. He was clearly having a little
trouble coming up with a suitable revenge tactic, as plans were disposed of one
after another, the paper pile slowly beginning to mount at his feet. No matter.
Bert dispenses misery like China dispenses crap. He'll produce.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Our table was booked for eight at
The Grocery, a restaurant built in the wine cellar of a run-down building near
Dun Laoghaire's waterfront. Attended by Dublin's elite, and lit by church
candles and hand crafted lanterns, its white washed walls painted an elaborate
display of chic and impossibly slender silhouettes. Our obvious age difference
and comparatively healthy appearance caused quite a stir as we entered the
premises. Not one to shy away from the lime light, Bert placed an arm around my
waist and planted a big wet kiss on my cheek. Still not satisfied, he began
rubbing my head, something he intended to be a loving and tender gesture,
though it actually felt more like the attention one offers a cherished pet or a
woolly simpleton. Still carrying on the charade, Bert took the liberty of
ordering for me, an act of chivalry I cannot abide. Fortunately, I eat with the
man on a daily basis so it was exactly what I wanted, giving me no cause for
complaint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">We discussed at length the George
situation, the Newbie situation (I'm still owed some tears there), and after
three bottles of wine, my sex life, or lack thereof. Since my break up six
months ago, I had taken a sabbatical from the world of men, giving myself time
to grieve. I was devastated. I spent two years with that man. I could never
get that time back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert informed me that enough was
enough, and the time had come to get back on the horse. I informed him that
there was no way in hell I was getting back on anything in the near future.
Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice and I deserve everything that's coming
to me. Absolutely not. Not now and not in the foreseeable future. The argument
raged on for half an hour before he decided to tell me it was too late now
anyway. He'd already set me up with Rob, a man from his building, who was
apparently picking me up tomorrow at eight. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">There's no point in even
including the remainder of the night, as it could easily be summed up in the
following brief and infantile exchange:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-I'm not going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Yes, you are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-No I'm not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Got into bed shortly after
twelve, and read a few more pages of J. Richardson's book. I can't make up my
mind about this guy. I honestly don't know if I pity him his pernickety
pilgrimage through life, or envy him the endless opportunities for smugness that
only a perfectionist can enjoy. I text Bert “Not” and turn my phone off. I will
not be bested.</span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-83113194190820095032012-07-16T17:52:00.000+01:002012-07-16T17:52:11.653+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Sunday 21<sup>st</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">My reputation does not precede
me. At least a dozen birds have gathered in the tree beneath my window and they
are singing up a storm. I retrieved my marble stash from the drawer. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">You have chirped your last my
feathered friends. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">With a single marble clasped
between forefinger and thumb and my body poised for precision, I swung my arm
like a seasoned pitcher and relinquished the glass ball.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">It hurtled through the air,
deftly avoiding branches and foliage, and incredibly still picking up speed as
it continued its descent from balcony to bird. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">A muffled thud resonated in the
early morning air, ousting the remaining fowl from their perches. I leaned over
the balcony to assess the damage, only to find I had indeed hit my target but
not with the full force I had intended. A large crow with severe concussion was
staggering about on the footpath below. That’s just bloody great! That in no
way solves my problem. A dead bird sends a message. A concussed bird can't even
relay a message.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert picked me up at 07:14. I
dragged my suitcase down two flights of stairs, past the flustered crow, which
was now flying in circles a foot off the ground. I resisted the urge to kick it
as I walked past, since there were people around, who undoubtedly frowned on
that sort of thing. What ever happened to the circle of life? The natural
rivalry between all God's creatures in a constant battle for survival. No-one
gets on the dog's case for chasing the cat, or the cat for chasing the mouse.
It's not my fault the crow is my natural enemy. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">If I discovered a human singing
in the tree outside my apartment, I assure you they would receive exactly the
same treatment. Man, woman, animal, black, white, hairy, bald, young, old,
religious, atheist...I don't discriminate. I hate you all equally.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The journey began on a high note,
as Bert spotted the crow frantically orbiting the bin, now three feet in the
air and climbing. Bert, bent over the steering wheel in hysterics, started to
cry as I explained to him the reason behind the bird's antics. See? The
mistreatment of animals can be funny. You just have to know your audience.
Despite the purpose of the trip, Bert tried to maintain an upbeat attitude,
demonstrating his own version of I Spy. This version is not the fondly
remembered game of your childhood but rather a fishing expedition for the
ugliest person in the vicinity, (Not only a fun game, but also a test of your
observational skills, and a lesson on local wildlife). For example: “I spy with
my little eye a fat bird in leggings and a hoody that could double as a
hammock”. You get the idea. One girl was so ugly Bert made an illegal U-turn in
the middle of a busy street to show me, thereby claiming his title as I Spy King.
That might seem unnecessarily cruel but he was absolutely right....won him the
game.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">We arrived in Baltimore at half
ten and pulled up outside what could only be described as a mansion, previously
referred to by Bert as “the farmhouse”. I'm not sure if Bert has ever seen a
postcard but I think he'd be surprised to find that this was not your
conventional representation of rural Ireland. It had two stories, a gravelled
driveway, and no live stock or smell of shit to speak of. Even more confusingly,
the sun was shining, and I thought, if I closed my eyes I could be anywhere
right now. Ah, if ifs and buts were candy and nuts...it'd be Christmas every
day for paedophiles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Familiar with my aversion to
small talk, Bert ushered me past the grieving friends and relatives that were
gathered throughout the house. After showing me to my room, he disappeared to
another part of the castle to get ready, allowing me to do the same. He
returned a while later dressed in black jeans and a grateful dead t-shirt,
while I donned the customary funeral attire of women worldwide, the black
dress. Not to be confused with the LBD or little black dress...an outfit
designed for pulling men, a task not usually deemed appropriate at funerals.
I'll be the judge of that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The funeral proved far more
entertaining than anticipated. Bert organised the entire event and as such, it
was not your garden variety funeral. As with every other aspect of his life,
Bert dealt with the situation the only way he knew how, by mocking the long
venerated traditions upheld by the Catholic church and offending the
sensibilities of anyone with the ability to hear, see, and on more than one
occasion, smell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The ceremony began at noon in the
dining room, where Bert's father, Joe, was available for viewing between the
hours of twelve and one, for genuine mourners and the unashamedly curious.
Funerals are a much loved pastime in Ireland, for where else might one be in
the company of misery and free food. It never fails to amuse me, that after the
burial of a loved one, it is not unusual to hear the contradictory statement
“It was a great funeral”...an opinion generally expressed by strangers and avid
readers of the obituaries. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">We gathered at the graveside to
mourn the loss of a friend, relative, and respected member of the community. A
small, local choir stood at the foot of the grave, patiently awaiting its cue. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Tears were shed and hugs were
shared. Flowers were placed reverently on the coffin, their hands lingering on
the satin wood as they said their final goodbyes. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">The coffin was lowered gently
into the earth and the mourners bowed their heads in silence, as Bert gave the
nod of approval to the waiting choir.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">My knees buckled as the opening
verse of 'Going underground' reverberated across the cemetery. I made a grab
for an equally faint Bert, who in turn grabbed the elderly lady standing next
to him. Not built to carry that kind of load, she stumbled forward, following
the still descending coffin into the freshly dug grave below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">To say the crowd's response was
negative would be an understatement of such magnitude, it would be like saying
the North Pole's a bit chilly, or Ireland's a bit damp. Or Americans a bit fat
(McDonalds on every corner), or the English a bit greedy (Six counties, six
counties, six counties), or the French a bit rude (I do not speak English,
spoken in perfect unbroken English). I could go on and on....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">As the rescue mission for the
fallen pensioner got under way, her cries for help lost in the impressive
vocals of the Baltimore Baritones, Bert and I made a feeble attempt to compose
ourselves. However, the sight of an old lady scrambling up the side of a grave,
desperately grasping for outstretched canes and walkers was more than we could
bear. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">We made a hasty retreat,
sidestepping nosy spectators, clawing their way to the front for a better
vantage point. Our getaway car, a 1998 Nissan Sunny, awaited us at the cemetery
gates and after much spluttering and a blast of smoke we were away.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Back at the farmhouse, Bert and I
prepared for our nettled guests, by getting completely hammered and interfering
with the finger food left by the caterers in our absence. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">It all started off innocently
enough, with the odd sneeze sandwich here and there, but it wasn't long before
we were playing Frisbee with the cold cuts and juggling the vol au vents. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Bert licked every slice of cheese
and grape on the cheese board whilst I took care of the crackers. By the time
the guests arrived, there wasn't a crumb in the house that wasn't covered in
the saliva of one or both of us. Just to be clear, there was only one item that
contained both our saliva, a piece of smoked salmon, and I can assure you, that
was an accident. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Just a drunken miscommunication
on our part.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">They greedily consumed every
morsel like the famine was making a comeback, and declared it all delicious,
thereby forgiving us our earlier misdeeds at the graveside. With all the food
gone, the small talk began, fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol. Anecdotes
spilled from every corner of the room, and Danny Boy echoed from some distant
corner of the house. In my drunken stupor, I somehow became embroiled in a
battle of the woes with Bert's aunt Morag, a woman tragically afflicted with a
terminal case of the “me too’s”. The poor woman seemed to be plagued by every
disease known to man, and in the end I started making names up. We discussed at
length the painful symptoms of Conjunctivinal Syphilitis and Haemorrhoidal
nasal blisters. Swollen Rectal abscesses stopped in her tracks though. She
didn’t seem to want to commit to that one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">It was after ten before everyone
left and I was glad to see the back of them, shower of whiny old biddies and
cantankerous old men the lot of them. But then not everyone can be the
perpetual font of positivity that I am. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">The reading of the will is
tomorrow morning, and Bert is nervous Morag, and her band of monkey children
will get the house. I don't know who he hates more, the old battle-axe herself,
or her attending offspring...unwilling to leave the well until it has
completely run dry. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">But I don't think it'll come to
that. He'll burn the place to the ground before he'll let them have it. Bert's
insisting I go with him tomorrow and since its taking place in the very house
in which I'm staying, I see no way out of it. We stumbled to our respective
beds, tired but surprisingly jolly all things considered.</span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-8722933118723433422012-07-16T12:06:00.000+01:002012-07-16T12:06:20.986+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Saturday 20<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Wandered into the living room in
my underwear, bleary eyed and generally confused, with the nagging feeling I
had forgotten something. Through half closed eyes I scanned the room for clues,
in the vain hope that something would jog my memory. Nothing. Can't have been
too important.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">My bum was mere inches from the
couch when it all came screaming back to me. I dug my heels into the carpet and
desperately flapped my arms in an attempt to return to a standing position but
it was too late. Gravity had bested me. As my ass hit the couch and I heard the
unmistakable crunch of Charlotte beneath me, I couldn't help but wish I was
wearing more than a thong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">One long shower later, I returned
to the living room, fully clothed and feeling a bit delicate if I'm honest.
Spider against bare ass was not an experience I wished to repeat. Although
considering our positions, and the possibility of their reversal, I couldn't
help but feel I came out the victor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">A homeless guy has taken up
residence on the steps of my building. He looked about mid-thirties and despite
his ragged clothing, appeared reasonably well groomed. An empty hat lay between
his outstretched legs and in his hands was a large cardboard sign that read: </span><i style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Has anyone seen my keys?</span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Not one to miss an opportunity, I
rummaged through my bag for my camera and some cash, and proceeded to introduce
myself. His name is Jack, very friendly, reasonably attractive, and a former
estate agent. Oh the irony! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I offered him twenty Euros in
exchange for a photograph of him holding the sign, and unsurprisingly he
accepted. Happy with the result, I said my goodbyes and set off for work,
again.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert took a personal day, leaving
me to fend for myself, and giving me a glimpse of my work day without him in
it. Can only hope that more of his family don't go and die on him. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I'm not sure how much more of
this self-harm inducing establishment I can take on my own. Sure, there are
other employees I could talk to, but to be honest I think I'd give the
self-harming a go first.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The day eventually came to a
close and just to be different, I went home. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Another note awaited me at the
apartment. This was getting out of hand. Is confrontation a thing of the past?
How am I supposed to defend myself against these allegations of noise
pollution if no-one is willing to face me? I am aware that they are not so
much allegations as they are complete truths but I'd still like to be given the
opportunity to lie through my teeth about them. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Surprisingly, the note was not
from George. Far more worryingly, the author was actually my new and
residentially challenged friend, Jack.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Thank you for your
generosity. I hope you liked the photo. Love your apartment by the way, very
accessible! See you tomorrow.</span></i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Jack.</span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">That’s just what I need, a
stalker with no prior commitments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-179179000347020432012-07-12T16:38:00.001+01:002012-07-12T16:38:32.125+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Friday 19<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Accidentally keyed in the wrong
numbers on the remote and ended up on Sky News. Not a bad thing as it turns out as I may be a little behind on a few issues. Apparently Londoners have been
rioting this past week and I knew nothing about it. Have to start reading the
newspapers I buy. The crosswords don't tell you squat, except to better your
words and learn you to read good…money well spent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">From what I could gather, the
rioters were on a mission. Not simply looting for lootings sake but standing up
to the powers that be to reclaim their taxes, and take back what was rightfully
theirs. They stood together as one, marching on London with their heads held
high and their loot bags slung triumphantly over their shoulders. This was a
proud moment for any Brit. Robin Hood and his merry men were back and ready to
recoup the losses. Hear ye hear ye...trainers and flat screens for all! And all
the mobile phones you can carry! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Truly inspirational.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The rioting quickly spread to
Birmingham, Manchester and Liverpool...shockingly! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I’d imagine, as news of the riots
aired on TV, there were a few unsympathetic Paddies with an opinion or two to
share. Over the years, we Irish have developed a certain taste for tragedy, and
our palate has never altered. Misfortune is like bullshit in Ireland, it's not
rare but we like it. And an English misfortune? Well that's money in the bank.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Switched over to RTE news for the
Irish version of events, and they were stopping people on Grafton street,
asking them stupid questions like “So what do you think of the riots?” As if
they were going to say “I love it. Can't get enough of the riots. Really breaks
up the week.” They went on to discuss the rumour that the riots would be in
Dublin before the weekend, and the indignant responses were laughable. The
standard line seemed to be “Oh that would never happen over here.” Like we
don't have our own breed of asshole, our own special brand of opportunistic
pricks willing to loot our fair city for an i-phone 4 and a Burberry cap. And
I'd imagine finding the culprits would be considerably easier in Dublin. The
Guardai triumphant as<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Abrakebabras
are raided across the city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Current affairs quota met, I got
ready for work, eagerly awaiting Newbie's tears. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">With twenty four hours to
prepare, I could only imagine the kind of spirit breaking plan Bert had in
mind. I considered taking my camera to work to document the occasion, but if
caught, it might appear premeditated. On the other hand, if I did manage to
capture Newbie's tear stained face on film, I could blow it up and use it to
wallpaper my ceiling. When God gives you lemons…</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I got stuck behind a bottle
blonde in a queue for coffee, on a rant about excessive foam in her cappuccino.
The rant continued for another five minutes, detailing her ever decreasing
disposable income, inflation, the state of the economy, and of course,
half-filled coffee cups. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">And then she turned the argument
on me.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Blonde- I'm not going to stand
for this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Me- Good for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Blonde- I ordered a cup of
coffee, not a cup of foam.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Me- Me too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Blonde- Doesn't it make you
furious?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Me- Some days it's all I think
about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Christ on a bitter bike, she
didn't half go on! She should get a bit of Sky News into her; see what they're
dealing with in London. In some areas there are children as young as ten having
to loot their own dinner. It's fucking tragic!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The moment was upon us! I pulled
Bert to one side and demanded to know the details, but Bert simply shook his
head. There was no plan. There would be no tears and humiliation for Newbie
today. I prepared to launch into a full blown tantrum, when I noticed something
odd. The arch was gone. His eyebrows were parallel to his hairline. He looked almost sad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Jesus Bert, who died?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-My dad.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Fuuuuuuccckkkkk!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The funeral's in two days in the
small fishing village of Baltimore, in west Cork, and he wants me to go with
him. I explained, as gently as I could, that given my precarious state of
employment, I didn't think time off was a possibility. Bert gave a nod of
understanding and quietly exited the room. Moments later, an argument erupted
in the back of the restaurant. I crept into the corridor between the kitchen
and the offices, where two of the wait staff were loitering, and earwigging. All
they'd managed to work out so far is that there was definitely an argument
taking place, but they had no idea who it involved or what it was about. Won't
be pilfering these wasters for my restaurant. Can't earwig worth shit. The
shouting continued as we crept closer to the source of the racket. Crouching
outside the office of Jacintha Hackett, I recognised the unmistakable voice of
Bert. I caught the occasional word, but the general account of the conversation
eluded me. Unless; “Bitch......time........work.......Sunday.......quit”, has
some special meaning I am unaware of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert came storming out of the
office, slamming the door as he left. Holding me by the elbow, he dragged me
into the kitchen and signalled for me to sit. He looked pretty angry so I
complied, taking the stool farthest away from him. His face was all red and
pinched with rage. I'd never seen this side of Bert before. He slowly massaged
his temples, his knuckles kneading the ruddy skin, pulling it back with each
circular motion, which gave him a sort of temporarily deranged look. He
struggled to speak, repeatedly clearing his throat to get the words out.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-The bitch is giving you time off work. We leave at 7am Sunday
morning. Bring rain gear.</span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">For the next two hours, I
contemplated the horrors of the impending trip, which will be the closest I've
come to a holiday in years. Pretty sad considering I'll be spending two full
days in the wettest region of Ireland, in a black dress and rain gear. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I will begin my holiday by
watching my friend's dad being lowered into a hole in the ground. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">And when that nightmare is over,
we will all return to the house where I will be forced to make funeral small
talk with strangers. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">In case you are unaware, funeral
small talk is just regular small talk, but with a mournful twist. Think of the
most tedious small talk you've ever experienced. Now imagine what it would be
like, after you've stuck someone in a box, buried them in the ground and then
gotten together to talk about it. Pretty grim, I can tell you.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The day grew steadily worse, as
food was sent back time and time again, and dissatisfied customers had the
waiters carry messages of disappointment back to the kitchen. The most popular
complaints of the day were “This is under cooked”, “This is over cooked”, and
“This is cold”. But the complaint of the day, and all out prize winner was
“This is taking too long”, and it was this particular complaint that sent Bert
over the edge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">A man, sitting alone, ordered
beef medallions in a port and red wine jus, with leek and baby potatoes, but he
apparently did not want to wait for his meal to be cooked and Bert thought that
this was an excellent idea. To that end, he grabbed the nearest frying pan and
onto it, slapped a large raw steak, surrounded it with a mix of raw leeks and
potatoes, and then doused the lot with a generous splash of port and red wine.
He carried it to the table himself, and presented the still bleeding meal to
the offending customer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Customer- What the hell is
this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert- Is there a problem, sir?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Customer- I should think so.
It...It’s, well it's raw!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert- Oohh, you'd like it
cooked? Well that takes fucking time!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert left not long after that.
Completely his own choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I got home after eleven to find a
spider the size of my fist, waiting for me on the couch. Cheeky git was
actually sitting in my spot. I had two options. I could either, relinquish the
living room and hope to God he didn't follow me or, I could strap on a pair and
deal with the situation like a grown up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">In bed by half eleven. Didn't
want to watch TV anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-1498959322644952032012-07-12T12:44:00.002+01:002012-07-12T13:12:43.000+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 19.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Thursday 18<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 19.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">As I left for work, I passed the
new family in the process of moving in. Tried to do a quick head count as I
crossed the crowded lobby, but all I could see was a horde of blonde heads and
dirty hands as they dashed between stacked boxes and black bin liners. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">A little girl in a tartan dress
approached me, extended a grubby little hand and in the sweetest voice possible
managed a single word. “Chocolate?” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I looked at her adorable face,
and the dimples set deep in her chubby cheeks and thought...not even if I was
Willy Wonka himself. I deftly avoided the grimy hand still outstretched and
made it to the front door without a single dirty paw print.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The sun made an appearance for
the first time in weeks, and I decided to make the most of it. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">With an unmistakable spring in my
step I walked to work, ignoring the bitter stares of my fellow citizens. Two
cappuccinos and a forty minute stroll later, I descended upon Greenpeas in an
uncommonly good mood. Whistling a jaunty tune, I sauntered through the swinging
doors of the kitchen, only to be met by the cold hard stare of my boss. <i>Murphy's
Law</i><i>: If your boss seems like a soul
destroying, obnoxious, harbinger of death, then she probably is</i>. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">With a menacing look in her eye,
she started towards me.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Familiar with the rules of
combat, though clueless as to what this was about, I reluctantly closed the
gap. However, fear of unemployment caused me to hold my breath and just as we
were nose to nose, I let it all out, along with an unanticipated burp. From the
corner of the room, Bert let out a snigger, which he attempted to pass off as a
cough. The Boss turned an unhealthy shade of purple, slapped a red plastic
pocket on the counter and stormed out. No need to inspect the contents of the
folder, as I am more than familiar with the details of my business plan. How
she got her filthy paws on it is another matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert examined the document
carefully, muttering the occasional “hmm” and “I see”, finishing it off nicely
with the obligatory head shake. He looked up at me with a wry smile and said
“You are so fired”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Images of moving back home
flashed through my mind...me sitting at the kitchen table getting the latest on
who's died this week, me sitting at the kitchen table listening to regular
updates on the health of each and every member of my family, me sitting at the
kitchen table openly weeping now because I just can't take it anymore.
Traumatised by memories of a down trodden upbringing, I snatched the folder
from Bert's hand and made a dash for the boss’s office. I'm not too proud to
beg! Bert grabbed me before I even got a foot out the door and offered another
solution. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">His advice was simple;</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Quit. She can't fire you if you
quit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-That's true. Doesn't really
solve my problem though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Fair point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Bert, I burped in her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-I know. Fucking priceless!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Rent: €900 p/month. Utilities:
€200 p/month. Food: €300 p/month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Burping in your bosses face:
Fucking Priceless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Will people ever stop ripping off
that ad? Not me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert made fun of Newbie to cheer
me up, but nothing could distract me from thoughts of home. I wonder if anyone
was diagnosed with prostate cancer or liver failure while I was away. Or maybe
something sexier, like TB or gout. The Irish love a bit of old fashioned
disease, reminds them of the good old days. If I'm very lucky, and that's a big
if, I might even get to attend the funeral of my second cousins' great aunt, twice
removed, whatever the hell that means. If I'm to believe my parents, I'm
related to half the bloody town and the next town over. I hope to fuck it's not
true or there's a good chance I was involved in some seriously incestuous
relationships as a teenager.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The boss made an unusual number
of trips to the kitchen today but made an obvious point of ignoring me. Feeling
brave, I asked her about my hours for next week, but got no reply. Half
expected her to turn to Bert and say “Did you hear something?” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">It quickly became apparent that
she saw my exclusion from the conversation as a form of punishment, but all in
all it was pretty good.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">To add insult to injury, Newbie
got a pay rise today. I have a dream and am punished. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Newbie's a twat and is rewarded!
I would truly be hard pressed to think of someone more idiotic and undeserving
of a job, let alone a pay rise, than Newbie. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">He's about as useful as tits on a
bull, a lighthouse in a bog, a twat in a restaurant! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I informed Bert that we are not
yet done with Newbie and I expect a plan by tomorrow. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I want to see him cry. Time to
take it to Def con 5 or Def con 1…whichever's worse.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Home time! I picked up dinner
from the non-English speaking, Polish run, Chinese restaurant on my road.
Food's only OK, but the service is entertaining. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">After my Polish Chinese, I got
into bed with Jon Richardson's new book, “It's not me, it's you”. So far very
good, I'm all about passing the buck. So single for eight years Jon? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Strong wrists indeed.</span></div>
EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-17854114195024109472012-06-28T19:06:00.000+01:002012-06-28T19:06:50.144+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Wednesday 17<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Wake in a cold sweat and state
of total panic. Can't see a thing and there is something covering my face and I
can't breathe! Jump out of bed and blindly circle the room, tripping over
yesterday's clothes and several plugs. Christ the fucking pain! I frantically
tear at whatever is over my head, repeatedly gagging on cotton fibres and what
I hope is my own hair. Still running, I plough straight through the open door
of the en suite, greeting the bath with my shins. What the..........<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Woke again several hours later
cold and alone, in an inch of water, with a pillow case over my head. I hobbled
to the bed to survey the damage. Severely bruised shins, a third eye on my
forehead, and stigmata like wounds to both feet. Hell hath no fury like an
upturned plug in the dark. One painful shower, four humble Paracetamol later and
I'm beginning to come round. The sun was just rising over the rooftops as I
poured my first cup of coffee and pondered the whereabouts of the menacing
letter. Somewhere on the other side of the Liffey, Bert is curled up in bed,
safe, warm and sleeping like a baby. The prick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I get to work early, determined
to have a substantial discussion with Bert regarding our recent pursuits.
Before I can utter a single word, Bert places a small present in my hand,
haphazardly wrapped in an old sheet of brown paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The note attached read:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">You'll not bend over<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">With this pressie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Unless you want,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Ya great big Lezzie!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Intrigued, I tear off the
wrapping, and stare at the simple but loaded gift nestled in my palm. </span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Soap on a rope. Thanks Bert. I
was worried before, but with soap on a rope on my side I am now fairly certain
I can cope with my upcoming prison sentence. The real let down I quickly come
to realise is that though it may prove useful in a shower situation, it is
absolutely no good to me back in my cell. The soap itself is alright, but there
isn't nearly enough rope to hang myself. About as useful in prison as a pair of
slip on shoes. Intending to return the favour, I wonder if I can bring myself
to buy a butt plug from Ann Summers. I could order it online but I suspect it
would show up on my bank statement as </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 200%;">www.yousickbitch.com.</span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;"> Facing my bank manager after that would just be plain
old embarrassing.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Made a quick trip to Ann Summers
on my lunch break and spent ten minutes perusing the most chilling array of
products legally available to man. While the purpose of some of the merchandise
was blatantly obvious, others were a complete mystery to me. Regrettably, I made
my confusion evident, attracting the attention of a young sales clerk. He
descended upon me before I got the chance to return the chocolate penis moulds
and offending butt plug to their rightful places. In a bout of panic, I dropped
the illicit paraphernalia, made a hasty retreat and set off in search of the
nearest off licence. A wine stopper would have to do. Back at work, I offered
Bert my heart felt gift with a similar note attached:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">If an inmate rates<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Your ugly mug,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Just make good use<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Of this butt plug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">It's not Yeats but Bert enjoyed
it. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Headed home in a taxi as my
stigmata was really starting to ache. Got back to find a note pinned to my
door, from George, the building handyman, and all round pain in the ass.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">“The apartment above yours will no longer be vacant as of tomorrow. So
please keep your usual racket to a minimum. Tearing around your apartment at
3am will not be tolerated. George.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Great, I'm going to have to come
up with a plausible excuse for last night's antics, and I don't think “I had a
pillow case over my head” is going to cut it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-55414580257415046822012-06-27T14:24:00.000+01:002012-06-27T14:29:39.121+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Tuesday 16<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>August</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Woke to the cold touch of steel
against my forehead. After a brief moment of panic and some desperate flailing
I realised it was just my belt buckle. I managed the short shuffle to the
bathroom where I instantly ejected last night's vodka and a hot dog I don't
remember eating. I inadvertently caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror as I
shuffled past. Rookie mistake. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">In addition to the usual ugliness
that accompanies a hangover, I was also sporting the word “Levis” across my
forehead. Excellent.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Ike called to the door to
complain about “excessive noise”. Apparently I made quite the racket upon my
return from the pub, and it woke him up, the poor dear. Also, he was
very curious as to how half a hotdog ended up wedged in their letter box. I
took a shot and blamed it on the kids upstairs. Turns out there are no kids
upstairs. The temptation to blame Tina was overwhelming, and let’s face it,
she's already in the shit house. I resisted, proud and relieved to discover
that there was in fact a limit to how low I was willing to sink. I was
beginning to think of my soul as a bottomless pit<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Finally…rock bottom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">At work, Bert greeted me with
black coffee and two Paracetamol. It has never cured my hangover in the past,
and yet I remain pitiably optimistic. I began preparing the fish course for
lunch, and as the pungent aromas assaulted my delicate senses, I made four
speedy trips to the bathroom. One genuine trip and three false alarms. After
ridding my stomach of all but the lining, I noticed a small white tablet
lurking conspicuously in the bottom of the bowl. I took two more and waited for
the painkillers to work their magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Two hours later and all was most
certainly not well!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">To the makers of Paracetamol and
all those involved in the nefarious world of drugs, I would just like to say: I
cannot believe it, four tablets in three hours and no improvement? This is not
over! Somebody will be receiving a strongly worded letter from me tomorrow.
Although I am quite busy tomorrow so perhaps just an e-mail. Ooh, internet
connection's been down the last two days so maybe just a text. Can you text?
I'll ask Bert.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I informed him of my situation
and Bert was immediately on the case. He came back to me an hour later with a
solution, if you could call it that. The plan was bigger and bolder than any
we'd attempted in the past. I was a bit cagey about trying something that could
ultimately land us in jail, but it was going ahead with or without me, and not
wanting to miss out on the fun, I agreed. Bert brought me up to speed.
Paracetamol HQ, on the outskirts of London, is run by one Joel Sanford. He
lives in Kensington with his wife Madison and son John. Little Johnny attends
Elmsford Elementary and his darling wife does sweet fluff all. Oh yes. A home
addressed letter should do the trick I think.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert did the honours...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dear Mr Sanford,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I am writing in regards to one of your products and my dissatisfaction
upon trying it. I suffer from severe headaches as a result of frequent binge
drinking, and after sampling your wares in an attempt to alleviate the
symptoms, I found no such relief.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">It is important to note that, as my suffering worsens, I often become
quite angry.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">And I can tell you right now Mr Sanford, your son wouldn't like me
when I'm angry. </span></i><i style="background-color: white; line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">How is little Johnny, by the way? Still attending Elmsford Elementary? </span></i><i style="background-color: white; line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">That's neither here nor there, I suppose. Although be sure and pass on
my kind regards when you see him. Just tell him the man with the sweets and the
nice puppy sends his best. I'm afraid I didn't give a name. Kids can be such
tattle tales you know.</span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I am writing this letter by candle light, as fluorescent lighting only
assists in aggravating my headaches and fuelling my rage, and I am quite sure
that you know all about the rage Mr Sanford…I've met your wife. Incidentally,
there's a pain that could use some killing.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I'm sure my frequent references to your family must seem strange to
you but this is merely a side effect of the headaches. I lose my train of
thought and as a result, all sense of propriety. </span></i><i style="background-color: white; line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I wanted to inform you of my situation in person, but my psychiatrist
insisted a letter would be far more appropriate and my parole officer agreed.</span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">By the way, I had the pleasure of meeting your son's nanny recently
and what a pleasure it was. She is delightfully proportioned, isn't she? But
let me tell you Mr Sanford, as you may already know, that woman cannot handle her
Rohypnol. The way she left personal belongings and house keys just lying about,
was beyond careless.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Well Mr Sanford, I think I have taken up enough of your time for now.
I feel confident that I have made my feelings quite clear. If not, I might see
fit to ignore the advice of my psychiatrist and parole officer, and instead
follow the advice of my friend and former bunk mate, Big Larry. Though not big
on letter writing, he always has the best candy. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">As strangers often do.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Yours painfully,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave (Newbie).<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">P.S. Give the nanny my best, if you can.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I will either get some serious
relief or some serious prison time for this. I wonder if they will allow me to
continue writing this from prison. Is a pen a shiv? I'm confident I could
survive on the inside. After all, nothing says hard-nosed criminal like keeping
a diary. Why did I have to ridicule Anne Frank? So much for outdoorsy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Been lying awake for an hour,
listening to the ominous peal of police sirens outside my window. Don't know
what I'm waiting for. The letter hasn't even left the country yet, and if An
Post has anything to do with it, it won't reach its destination for at least a
week, if at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Please, just this once, let the
postal service fuck up when it really matters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-60447160758599516192012-06-15T15:27:00.003+01:002012-06-15T15:32:33.169+01:00<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Monday
15</span><sup style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">th</sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> August, 2011</span><br />
<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Woke up in the middle of a sneeze
and three more followed. Took that to mean I was getting a cold, which could
lead to the flu, which could lead to pneumonia, which could lead to death! So I
called in sick, can't be too careful. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Bert answered the phone on the
second ring with one of his more colourful salutations;</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"> </span><i style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Hello, this is Greenpeas. We nuke it, you puke it!</span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-I can't come in.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Why so?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-I'm sick.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-Drinks later?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">-OK.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">As the day progressed, I realised
I was behaving more and more like a sick person. Four sneezes does not
constitute an illness and yet somehow I found myself wrapped in a duvet, with a
cup of tea in one hand, dry toast in the other, and a cold wet flannel by my
side. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Even if I were sick, I fail to
see how any of these supposed remedies would in any way aid my recovery, as the
wet tea cancels out the dry toast, and the warm duvet totally negates the cold
flannel. And then it hit me, I had been taking part in this charade for years.
The countless colds and bouts of tonsillitis I'd spent shoving dry toast down a
completely raw throat, drinking fizz-less fizzy drinks, and being
simultaneously hot and cold and not knowing why, and yet I never questioned it. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I contemplated this most shocking
revelation as I stirred the chicken soup I made earlier.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">After a lengthy shower I began to
feel like myself again, despite the fact that only a mere hour before, I was
very nearly on the brink of almost getting the sniffles, probably. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Getting ready to meet Bert, I
realised half my wardrobe was in the dryer, and woe betide the girl who did not
air her clothes. In Ireland, if your mother is to be believed, excess moisture
is the quickest route to death. I settled on an old pair of jeans about two
sizes too big, held up by a fashionable black leather belt, complete with
over-sized Levis buckle, and left the apartment looking like I wandered out of
the 90's.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert was sitting at the bar when
I arrived. He didn't immediately see me as he was deep in conversation with
three American tourists. I perched on a stool out of sight, but within earshot,
and so still privy to the fresh slew of bullshit he dispenses in Irish pubs
across the country. I noticed his accent was particularly strong, a gimmick he
adopts from time to time. He is also prone to saying “bejaysus” and singing
rebel songs when his stories aren't having the desired effect. The three women
were enthralled as he recounted the events of that fateful and fictional day
many years ago, when he and Arthur, toiling away in the heart of Dingle,
produced the first pint of Guinness e'er to pass the lips of an Irish man, (his
words).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I decided it was time to put an
end to his little game, or “Prank the Yank” as he calls it. Having never cared
for the label “racist”, he has created many different versions of “Prank the
Yank”, and though the titles vary, they are no less colourful. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">“Outwit the Brit”, “Out-speak the
Greek”, “Out-think the Chink”, and the slightly less clever “Fuck the French”,
to name but a few.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I fell into bed five hours later,
and spent a full twenty minutes wrestling with the Levis anvil at my waist,
before getting it half off and quitting. I sent the cursory drunken texts, waited
for the room to stop spinning, and wondered why my mouth tasted of hot-dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-2516576864285233782012-06-14T10:49:00.002+01:002012-06-14T10:54:10.876+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Sunday
14<sup>th</sup> August, 2011<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Fucking noisy birds! If they're
not screaming next door, they're outside my bloody window! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Went to the shop and bought
marbles and spent an hour on the balcony perfecting my aim. Only managed to hit
one but hopefully word will spread. I wish my Ike and Tina problem could be so
easily remedied, but sadly I don't have the marbles.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I left for work half an hour
early, with a Thermos this time. Sitting at the back of Bus Eireanns finest I
overheard a conversation between two women, one holding a baby, the other admiring.
Agnes and Betty, let’s call them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Agnes: Aw isn't she precious.
What did ya call her?</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Betty: Why-vonney.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Agnes: Ah sure that's lovely. How
d'ya spell dat?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Betty: Y-V-O-N-N-E.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Black coffee through the nose is
a painful thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I arrived at work to find the
boss in the kitchen waiting for me, and Bert with an almost worried look on his
face. He looks odd with no arch in his eyebrow. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Boss screamed for almost fifteen
minutes. She was ten minutes into the rant before I heard the word Viagra and
the penny dropped. I listened carefully for the word fired but I don't think it
came. Gradually the arch returned and Bert was himself again. He thinks we
should wait a day or two before trying anything else. I said a week or two
might be better, at which point the arch dropped again. I found a banana peel
on the floor an hour later.</span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Too soon Bert. Too soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Called into the boss's office
before home time, where I was informed; Newbie will be back at work tomorrow
and we are to “leave him alone”. Bert decides to take this literally and
suggests we lock him in the cold-room. I ask Bert to please not get me fired.
He promises nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I got home to find Tina sitting
by my front door. She's making her domestic situation very difficult to ignore.
Maybe she's here to tell me she tripped over the drum kit. I made us some
coffee and we sat down to discuss her dilemma. She had two black eyes so I was trying
very hard to look her in the forehead. I rather stupidly asked her what the
problem was, and that’s when she said it; “I think my boyfriend is cheating on
me.” In light of that ridiculous revelation I then had to figure out the most
important question of all. Does Ike hit her because she's stupid, or is she
stupid because Ike hits her? No polite way to ask that, so instead I asked the
usual questions and offered the usual platitudes. In an attempt to assess the
true level of her stupidity and in turn find a possible remedy for the
situation, I told her that cheating was illegal and perhaps she should go to
the police. She looked surprised but not disbelieving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I'm beginning to see Ike's side
of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I told her not to worry, it'll all
look better in the morning, provided the swelling goes down. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">She returned to her little patch
of wife beating heaven and I retired to bed with a clear conscience. After all
there was nothing more I could do. It's not like she had anywhere else to go.
Hmmm...I think I'll turn the spare room into a hat museum.</span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-14498302897305010052012-06-11T11:04:00.000+01:002012-06-11T11:08:48.803+01:00<br />
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Saturday
13<sup>th</sup> August, 2011<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert called. Newbie's in hospital
and junior is apparently still going strong. Bert reckons we should not panic,
but rather view this as an opportunity to learn. Now we know, giving him seven
Viagra was probably six Viagra too many. Bert's making him a hospital mix.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I am a rock, by
Simon and Garfunkel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">You raise me, up by
Westlife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Beat it, by Michael
Jackson.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I touch myself, by
Divinyls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Rocket, by Def
Leppard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Can’t touch this, by
MC Hammer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I'm so excited, by
the Pointer Sisters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">8.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I'm still standing,
by Elton John.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">I arrived at St. James hospital
to find Bert stealing the “wet floor” sign from the lobby. I really must find
time to explain consequences to him. Accidentally called Dave “Newbie” in front
of his distraught mother…I think she's starting to suspect something. I sat
beside his bed for half an hour trying not to look at the carefully placed
pillow on his lap, while Bert tried to work the words; hard on, tool, nuts,
phallus and member, into every sentence. Conversation went something like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave's mam</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: I
don't understand how this happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: I know. This
must be very<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>hard on</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>you. It's<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>hard on</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>all of us. But it's been the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>hardest</i> on<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>little Davy</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave's mam</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Of
course and sure aren't ye both so good to visit him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Ah it's no<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>phallus</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave's mam</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Excuse
me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: I said it's
no hassle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave's mam</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Well
we both appreciate it. And I'm sure he'll be back at work on Monday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Only if he
feels<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>up<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>to it. We wouldn't want him<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>stretching</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>himself too thin. D'ya hear me Dave?
Don't go<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>nuts</i>. Use
whatever<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>tools</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>are at your disposal and you'll be
back at work in no time, a full<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>member</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>of staff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave's mam</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Thank
you. You're very good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: Penis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Dave's mam</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">:
Pardon?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert</span></b><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">: What?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Bert left for work and as penis
euphemisms were exhausted I went home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Over a light dinner, I edited the
business plan I'd been working on for more than two years. It had been my plan
from day one to run my own restaurant, and the document that lay before me was
my ticket out.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Unfortunately,
with my business acumen such as it is (non-existent), I don't foresee
entrepreneurial prosperity in my future. This is a serious problem as Bert's
antics are growing increasingly outrageous and I have a sneaking suspicion that
unemployment may be on the cards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;">Retire to bed at a very early
hour but sleep is impossible. Ike is playing the drums again. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">I can't help but notice every
time he plays, Tina looks a little worse for wear. I knock on their door and
suggest he play the drums elsewhere. The look of confusion on his face says it
all. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; line-height: 200%;">Goodbye Tina, you were a great,
albeit noisy neighbour and I'll miss you.</span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-30597784251544461932012-06-11T09:38:00.000+01:002012-06-11T09:38:23.752+01:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Friday 12<sup>th</sup> August, 2011<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was woken up at some obscene hour by loud banging next
door. My neighbour is either learning to play the drums or beating the hell out
of his girlfriend. I'm not sure which would piss me off more, but either way,
one of them had better quieten down. Awoken again an hour later by more of the
same; this is either the drum solo to rival all others, or that girl is taking
a serious hammering. Twenty minutes later and there is a decidedly different
sort of banging coming from next door. Aw...Ike and Tina made up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Late for work again! Definitely no time to stop for coffee,
but I can't resist the urge to check my black coffee/white coffee theory. I
order; tall skinny latte with an extra shot of skimmed milk. If history has taught
us anything, it is this one simple rule: the whiter the better. Ordered, served
and out the door within five minutes. Finally...racism I can get on board with.
Seriously late now and the boss is not amused. Amid a lengthy lecture on the
importance of time keeping and general job keeping, I notice Newbie is taking
in the show from behind a stack of milk crates. Half-wit doesn't realise I can
see him. Bloody crates are holier than the pope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Brief sidebar with Bert Plan: kill Newbie. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Longer sidebar Revised plan: annoy
Newbie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bert and I spent the better part of the morning devising a
plan, discussing its various merits, and predicting the possible outcome that
might result upon completion of the plan. Unemployment for example and in one
of Bert's more extreme plans....death. We eventually reached a compromise and
Bert left to “see a man about a dog”. Ten minutes before lunch service and the
plan was set in motion. Dave joined us for coffee. Black coffee for me (no
waiting), coffee with cream for Bert, and a generous mix of coffee and finely
ground Viagra for Newbie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I really shouldn't
give him such a “hard” time. I mean he's not that much of a “dick”. He is after
all a “member” of staff. </i>Damn, out of penis euphemisms.<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Plan went down beautifully. It was almost too easy...like a
paedo in a playground, fish in a barrel, piss up in a brewery. Newbie Junior
caused mayhem. The boss burst into the kitchen in a blind panic, but Bert
advised her to see the silver lining; more productive now Newbie can carry an
extra plate. Eyes are bloodshot from crying. Bert convinced him that drinking
water would help lower the sails, and after forcing six pints of water down his
neck we waited once more. Wasn't long...Newbie walked out of the bathroom looking
like he was pitching a tent but got caught in the rain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a particularly busy service and several of the wait
staff complained about being a man down, to which Bert pointed out that if
anything they were a man up. Newbie was sent home in what must have been the
longest and most awkward taxi ride in history, a trip made considerably more
awkward by his choice of the front seat.<o:p></o:p></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-39498687500999537052012-06-10T10:41:00.001+01:002012-06-10T10:42:31.705+01:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Thursday 11<sup>th</sup> August, 2011<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Late for work again. Greenpeas, my own patch of hell
and place of work, is a small portioned, overpriced “Yaw” talking snob fest in
the heart of Dublin. I recommend it to those of meagre appetite and ample
means. A place to see and to be seen. Unless you're the staff, or as the
customers affectionately call us “the help”. Having worked there for over two
years, I have come to think of my fellow staff members as family, which is to
say, I see them only when I have to, and pretend to like them when I do. The
only exception is the head chef Bert. At fifty six, he has a shock of dark
brown hair only recently greying at the temples, and large pale blue eyes. His
sombre countenance often belies his true nature, and the subtle but permanent
arch in his eyebrow is his only tell. He is an evil genius.<span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Despite being more than ten minutes late, I stopped
for coffee. Brambles and Vines, bragging “the best cup of coffee this side of
The Liffey” has recently opened on my doorstep, although considering they
reside on the North side I'm not sure how much of a boast this is. In true
Irish fashion, the service was leisurely, and though their lips moved at
breakneck speed, all other movements were imperceptible. I stood in line for
twenty minutes for coffee, black coffee. Possible racist establishment? I'll
ask for white next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I took the 130 bus to work and was forced to stand
for the entire journey as some git with a dog and a cane got on before me and
took the last two seats. I made a not so subtle attempt at luring the dog away
with the remains of my breakfast. The owner was understandably oblivious, the
mutt was having none of it, and the other passengers didn't look too impressed
either. No sense of humour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It didn't get much funnier as the day went on, as I
arrived at work thirty five minutes late. Nor did the mood improve an hour
later when I sent the new guy (Dave) to the shops for “a long wait” and he was
gone for two hours during lunch service. The final nail in the coffin came just
before dinner service, when Newbie was sent to get 12lb's of mince. Though his
return was prompt, his stupidity is now unquestionable. I sensed he did not
fully understand the purpose of the restaurant as he arrived back carrying
12lb’s of Mints.<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"> </span></span>Dave
is no longer allowed to leave the restaurant during work hours. Very
disappointing! Bert had planned an elbow grease expedition for him for
tomorrow. We've decided to come up some with indoor games for him instead. Let
it not be said that Bert and I are quitters. We will teach Newbie the ways of
the kitchen, even if it kills him. I mean us, even if it kills us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902217856923975557.post-72262225525879486202012-06-07T12:05:00.002+01:002012-11-15T15:48:14.210+00:00<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">My
sorry tale begins in Ireland’s fair capital, in the height of "summer". </span>The
month was July. The year...2011. The mood? Sombre. Thousands of years of rain
may have dampened our brogues, our spirits and our Aran sweaters but it has not
dampened our resolve. We seem determined to be staggered by this continuing
precipitation...Can you believe this rain??</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nor has the recession improved conditions. Despite countless
governmental cock ups Ireland cannot believe its bank balance. Due to a
complete lack of foresight the Irish are now broke and wet. To stave off the
wet weather and save money, some communities are umbrella pooling and others
are renting out their hot presses to the damp and down on their luck. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am
one of the more fortunate. I do not have to umbrella pool, or sublet my hot
press. I do however have to country share with every other miserable git on
this god forsaken island. And make no mistake...he has forsaken us.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
EJ Carrollhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598178856357860750noreply@blogger.com0