June 09, 2005

Title going down for maintenance NOW!

So, in my absence, I have been sunburnt delightfully, so that my chest now looks like a large slice of ham. I am a hammy woman. HAM HAM HAM! BUT YOU CAN'T EAT THIS HAM PRODUCT, THAT'S ILLEGAL!

So I saw Tori Amos play at Vicar Street, and my goodness me, she is an electric sexual onstage presence. She writhes on that piano stool like there's no tomorrow. It was quite a show, but stupidly I forgot my camera so I have no picturey delights for you to behold. She is also staggeringly beautiful - I really hadn't realised quite how fabulously gorgeous she is. And her voice sounds like a wild animal crossed with...something...less vicious...and more melodic. Yes. Seeing Tori live was a dream realised. Hurray for neuro-praxis.

So I went away for a few days, but before I did, I whipped out the scissors and I decided to give my hair a quick trim. I quickly got carried away and lopped a full ten inches off it, restoring my mop to its former scraggly glory of my teenage years. Short hair suits me. Long hair is gay and it doesn't suit me and I am against it. I only grew it for the wedding, but I just looked stupid on the wedding day - I should have shaved it all off, what with it being a special occasion with the cake and everything. But anyway, here it is. If you look closely you can see the deformity on my forehead which is really only visible when I frown, which is most of the time.

In that beautiful photo I am sitting in the car in the Phoenix park while K is fast asleep beside me. This was because he can't get to sleep unless it's in public. This makes most nights quite a tedious ordeal. This problem comes from his childhood where his parents occasionally said "no" to him, filling him with an intense fear that eventually caused all kinds of psychological damage.

Speaking of parents causing psychological damage, part of my trip away was with some friends in the stupid unsunny south east. These friends have acquired for themselves a daughter whom I am in love with (in the innocent way) because she plays the drums using a doll as her drumstick. Now that's what I call innovative.

She is marvellous company. She currently has a vocabulary of about twelve words, but this is expanding every day. Most of her communication involves loud requests for CHEEEEEESE, JUUUUUICE, SHREK and WO-WOS. What are wo-wos, I hear you cry. Why they are raisins of course, what else would they be? She impressively got her mouth round my name too, before I left...neuro-praxis is not an easy one to say but she just about managed it. I was inspired.

So we stayed in a pretty rubbish hotel which I recommend you avoid. It is this one and the assistant manager is very bad at his job. But we had a lot of fun, because we are VICARIOUS and VIBRANT and VIVACIOUS (yay! three v-adjectives!) and altogether I am convinced that holidays are the way forward, and work and stress are the way firmly back to the luddite stone-age days, and nobody wants to go there, do they? And if they do they're naff, and probably still wear poodle socks and eat Push-Pops, which is just so sad.

I got some wonderful scenic pictures with my superb 10 x optical zoom camera (wedding present) but I won't post them here because you'd quite possibly fall asleep with boredom. Actually I won't post them here because uploading takes a good while and I am desperate for a nap. But what I will post instead is a photograph I took of the delectable Mr. Ben Folds who I saw in concert last night at Vicar Street. BEST GIG EVER.

If I were to actually write a review of this concert, there would be enough gushing to take you white-water rafting, so I shall decline. I implore thee: if thou ever hast a chance to seeth the divine Ben in the flesh, do so, or live with the regret. Amen.

Other news? I saw the League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse in the cinema the other night, and I attended the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland (ha ha, ASS-embly) today and really folks, there wasn't that much difference between them. It's a movie that's got its moments, but if the house was on fire and I owned the dvd, I wouldn't go back into the house to retrieve it, unless I thought I could get a fiver for it off a sympathetic neighbour. At times like those you need all the cash you can get. The General Assembly is the annual meeting of all of the Presbyterian church leaders in the country. K and I took the opportunity to take a road trip to Belfast with our pastor for it. It was duller than a book by Thomas Hardy, but thankfully there was free tap water, as much as a man can contain! It was worth it for the hanging out and the chatting and that packet of crisps I got in a petrol station in Dundalk. The thrill! I cannot handle it!

Other thing: I braved a shopping centre and purchased work clothing. SENSIBLE SEPARATES. That means they are boring enough to match everything. To my surprise, they're mostly brown. I don't usually buy brown, but it suits me. Why am I wasting my hard earned dolla on brown clothes when I could just roll around in muck, or smear poo on myself and get the same effect? I think we all know the answer to that. I am allergic to muck.

Aye-oop, I am thirsty because it is a very humid day. Stupid sunless hotness. It makes me angry! Angry enough to go to bed! Now I angrily go to bed, dreaming of all that tap water. Where is it now when I need it? It's in bloody Belfast. English bastards rob everything!

neuro-praxis -- High

Posted by neuro-praxis on June 9, 2005 10:40 PM, in the category