I must apologise if every time you've come here recently you're assaulted with advertisements for FUN CASINO POKER NIGHTS FUN FOR ALL WORLD'S BIGGEST POKER GAME FREE MONEY or better still IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND UNHAPPY WITH YOUR LOW SP€RM C0UNT? WE HAVE THE CHEAPEST DR-|_|G$ ON THE INTERNET!!! WWW.VIAGRACHEAPEST606688121.COM
I'm being spammed to death. I suppose it serves me right. What goes around comes around. I really must stop writing those viruses and emailing them to every address my spyware can scramble from blogger.com and okcupid.
I feel like a six year old on Christmas eve. A happy child now, not one of those dying ones in the third world. I am sure they don't feel much different on Christmas eve than any other night. DO THEY KNOW IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME AT ALL? One of the deeper questions.
Well it's because the husbandry unit returns from foreign land tomorrow. He has had a furry Russian hat surgically implanted into his head in place of the usual toupée. Which is a relief. At least that's what the postcard says, so here's hoping.
How am I? Well ok, thank you for asking. Up to my eyeballs at work, but thankfully I shut the door on the office every evening and am free to go home to drink myself into a delirious stupor, at which point I ring my friends and cry for a while. Then I accuse them of having affairs with K, or of putting toilet rolls into their bag from my bathroom the last time they were round. My mother resents these accusations more than most. But then an adulterating thief would be indignant, wouldn't they.
This week I ate my first giant mushroom vol au vent. I may have spelt that incorrectly. It was the size of my head. It was prepared by L. Kudos to L and his giant mushroom food product making skills. Also his wine purchasing skills proved excellent, and I demonstrated my gratitude by drinking it, and providing him with a copy of the children's mini-book Mr. Clever. I thought I was paying L a compliment. Turns out Mr. Clever is a thick shit. Sorry, L. I didn't know children's books were ironic. That's postmodernism for you. Thanks a bunch Andy Warhol.
That's it for now. I am going to cook my husband's favourite meal and we'll have it tomorrow night when he flies in. BOY WILL HIS ARMS BE TIRED. Where's a drummer when you need a good ba dum tsch? It will be a microwaved delight. No, it won't. I am making a chilli, which tastes so much better when it's been left overnight to absorb the flavours. By the way, I watched the Druid Chef programme thing on TG4 tonight and that chef needs some vocab lessons. Nice man, but please don't say lovely more than once in any sentence, and don't say a sentence with lovely in it more than once every five sentences.
"Now, I am going to put our lovely stew into our lovely blue bowl with all the lovely noodles and the lovely juices and aromas and lovely herbs and here we are by the lovely stream and the sun is shining and this is lovely, this is what the monks did five hundred years ago, the communcal cooking, it was lovely then and this is lovely now."
neuro-praxis -- Having A Lovely Time In Her Lovely House
So there I have been, bounding from hospital to hospital in ambulance after ambulance, spurting out blood and urine and sucking up drugs and weak tea. Oh joy! Oh rapture! My soul knows peace at last!
Hyperbole or not, I have been in the hospital, and I got there in an ambulance, and it was me that had ruddied up insides. Something exploded in my ovarian regions and the memory of the pain will keep me awake on many a lonely night while the husband has been stolen away on his mission to rob Ukrainian cars and recycle them into cheap quality cutlery.
Luckily for me on the night in question of said inner explosion, my friend A was staying over and competently organised my recuperation. She's rather good. I think I'll keep her.
In other news, I have had to go to work in spite of the combustion because Colleague Number One is puking with a horrible virus and Colleague Number Two is in Florida, swallowing hurricane dust and talking to unhappy Americans. Also, it would seem that the weather is one million degrees at present, and all of the degrees are right up IN MY FACE making me so hot I could vomit. Vomit like it was 1999 and I was Colleague Number One! Work has been a living nightmare with boils on and a zimmerframe. I managed to keep going in spite of the agony until midday yesterday when I rang my mother and sobbed down the telephone about how I needed to quit. In her usual off-centre way, she advised me to lock the office door and lie on the floor for half an hour.
So it's been quite a week.
OTHER THINGS
My parents came for the weekend (pre-explosion) and went to see the Ha'penny bridge which is apparently about as much fun as soiling yourself. My brother came round and we had a barbeque, so I was quite the familial little flower. Friend A came over for dinner and beer and consequently, hospital-help. Work has been a disaster and I saw Aimee Mann in concert. Not ideal timing but wild horses couldn't keep me from Vicar Street to see that skinny woman holler!
Now there is water and bed and TOILET IS FORBIDDEN. I have an ultrasound in the morning and if I do it without a full bladder THEY SEND ME TO PRISON. The letter is very firm and angry and underlines many useful things.
DO NOT GO TO THE TOILET. IF YOU DO, THIS WILL CAUSE DELAYS.
Yes hospital. Sorry hospital. I would not want to make a delay by my urine! My urine is bad for making a delay! I will slap the urine when it comes out!
They even add,
WHEN THE EXAMINATION IS FINISHED YOU MAY GO TO THE TOILET.
Aaaaah, that's the life. Permission granted at last!
neuro-praxis -- An Bfhuil Cead Agam Dul Go Dtí An Leithreas?
The Delightful Housemates have gone to Cavan for a wedding. I didn't even know Cavan people were into that. The husband still refuses to come back from Ukraine. Tis merely me, but I bask in the quiet.
While basking quietly, like a large whale on the verge of death, I did a number of stupid things today.
The bombs in London, which I will not be blogging about, have me quite depressed. Why, oh why, does anyone believe that humans are inherently good? The opposite is so painfully obviously the case. The human race is a large sack of evil bastards.
I am slayed with heartburn recently. Anyone know a good cure? Answers on a postcard to your mother. (We're having lunch tomorrow. She'll pass it on.) I try chewing carefully, I eat rennies like e tabs, I drink milk (but not too much, because the experts tell me that while this produces immediate relief, it is short lived as more acid is produced to digest the milk), I cast spells. Nada. What with my football injury and firey stabbing in the throatal/chest area (medical term, that) I am a crock.
Bed for the crock. Tomorrow I wear new shoes. I need to get my rest for that.
neuro-praxis -- Her Milkshake Brings All The Toys to the Lard
The guilt! It sits on me! I have neglected my blog, through what I have done and what I have failed to do!
I'm busy. I've been damn busy a while now. I am a grown up with a grown-up's job earning a (meagre) grown-up's salary and enjoying a hideous routine that involves being alert and perky and cheerful and at my desk at an ungodly hour of the morning.
I also received my exam results. I got 68% overall. A 2.1. While I should have been happy, I wasn't. 2% off a 1.1 is just a little too close for me. I was disappointed. NO MORE OPPORTUNITIES! I shouted. I AM AVERAGE! I mourned. As though it all depended on an extra 2%!
Anyway, I received a sharpish phonecall (and this is the point where I brag) inviting me to lunch with the head of the philosophy department. When I turned up, there were four others there. I was informed that I had received a record 90% (NINETY PER CENT! IT'S UNHEARD OF!) in my thesis and, along with the others, had been selected as having exceptional promise. We were wined and dined and invited to begin postgraduate study with the department. I'm bowled over by the whole affair. I still plan to work for this year, but I will be putting together a research masters proposal with a view to a phd. Yes. Oh yes I will...Yes. YES.
I am currently working on my second degree, known as the B Phil., which takes its form in one thesis of a Christian philosophy nature. If I get a 1.1 in this, I will be royally satisfied.
Very exciting altogether.
I have done a whole heap of crap since my last visit. Is it interesting to you? Undoubtedly not. WELL SUCK IT UP.
REM. They were crap. Moby was alright. War of the Worlds is a king amongst movies. Batman, on the other hand, can lick my boots. FOOTBALL. Now this is something I am currently enjoying. I have been "playing" it on Sunday afternoons recently. Apart from the mishap this weekend where Charlie landed on me full force and bruised my entire right side and upper right arm, it has been funtastic. I am still plastered in Deep Heat and munching Ibuprofen like there's no tomorrow, but you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be on that pitch again on Sunday.
My young and sexy husband (who, might I add, left my room filled with flowers yesterday) has gone to Ukraine to eat pea soup and fix toasters. No he's not doing that. It's for work. Something to do with communism. Or something. Anyway, he will not be in my bed for over two weeks. Bah. Worse than that, he took the car with him. I have been forced to construct a crude vehicle from an old boat, some cardboard wheels and a lot of wishing.
I just saw an ad on the tv for an air freshener FOR YOUR DISHWASHER. I consulted my old friend google and indeed it would seem that this is not a rare thing. Why is it not rare? What kind of person puts an air freshener in the dishwasher? What next? Bicycles for monkeys?
neuro-praxis -- Not Worth Your Money