April 25, 2006

Karma Police

Well would you look at this! Three neuro entries in a month! You must think all your birthdays have come at once! Well, they haven't. And while we're at it, don't ever forget that one day you will die. And so will EVERYONE you love. Ooh who's in a bad mood then? the camp ones among you are limp-wristedly saying. I think the answer is obvious. ME. Why? Because I've been given a new entry for Neuro's Big Book of Rejections. UCD don't want me. They've only offered places to students with their undergrads from UCD. Also they said they were upset about my poem and the photograph of me was disturbing. Then they said I have literacy problems and I would be a liability in the class. They included half a pound of raw minced beef in the envelope. They wrote a poem about me that went like this:

Dear neuro-praxis,

Fin.

Today has been a bit of a kick in the nuts, I can tell you. There is no solution. I need a path. Perhaps you, my friends, might scrabble together, clear the leaves and lay some concrete slabs for me to walk on, going in a particular direction. I shall expect this path to be laid by Friday at the very latest.

neuro-praxis -- Not A Potential Sexy Librarian

April 23, 2006

The End Is Nigh

Well, I'm not yet sure if I've sobered up from the hen weekend, but thankfully Zoomspouse has done enough sobering up for the both of us by filling out the census with a most unsettling zeal. We are now officially a pair of beered up statistics, and he couldn't be happier about it. You should see him on the days he gets to use his vote! Creepy.

WELL NOW I EAT MY HAT

Or perhaps my words, whichever proves tastier. Although I just ate some pork and rice which I am not sure anything could top, taste-wise. Fact is, the hen weekend was a weekend to top all girly weekends. Decent hotel, tasty food, copious beers, rides in police cars (really!), great company, private cinemas, champagne receptions, lots of laughing and crying (fist fights). The single piss-poor event was the evening-long contribution of a very intimidating and drunken thirty-something Liverpudlian man also staying at our hotel who hung round our group in the residents' bar insulting the chief bridesmaid and making idiotic comments on our singing like, "You think war is funny? HA HA HA HA HA HA." Please note, he did not laugh: he said HA HA. There were 26 of us. What was he doing?

The following morning I found myself in the lift with him and wait for it: his young WIFE. I was overcome with pity and disgust. I said to him, ""Do you know what a fucktard you were last night? You should be ashamed to call yourself a man." And to his wife: "Get away from him now before you catch his STDs."

Next time, it will be aloud.

Sometimes I wish Presbyterians had confession. I guess this blog is my confession, in a way. Can anyone give me absolution for my self-righteousness and scorn? In return I can sing you a lullaby. It's all about give and take with me, isn't it?

Anyway, I have two full days of loving to catch up on. The poor lamb has been deprived.

neuro-praxis -- Totally Out Of Your Goddamn Mind

April 18, 2006

How Tremendously Well I Did

What's this then? Yeah yeah yeah. I've not been writing because:

1. I've been "busy"
2. I'm boring
3. White bread gives me diarrhoea
4. Dot's dog got knocked down in Eastenders
5. Nobody bought me an easter egg, although my pastor did give me a Cadbury's Creme egg (little un) because I played a blinder on the drums Easter Sunday. He might have given it me if I hadn't played well though.

Still no word from UCD on my future. As I type, I am supposed to be cleaning up the torrid filth in my house while K is at an interview, being responsible, and planning large for our future. I watch soaps, drink tea and mourn my own inactivity. I did have a driving lesson in the Phoenix Park today and I banged the car into a grass bank, but the bank didn't cry. I'll tell you who cried. Not me!

Everybody seems to be getting married and I have been to some hen parties. At one of them we went Go-Karting and ate a bit of hoummus. Hoummus bought in the shop is like, HALF oil, did you know that? There's about a hundred thousand calories in oil, did you know that? I know that because I don't eat calories anymore, only lettuce and such. Apart from the bleeding gums it's all going brill.

So there is another hen weekend approaching, in the land of Galway, where everybody is drunk and wearing plastic tits. Can't wait! It will be just the neuro cup of tea. Also everybody will be wearing new clothes fresh from Sasha while I slump around, grimy and malodorous, in my jeans and that jumper my dad lent me. Even my fabulous new hair won't be looking shiny and glam, as I broke the hairdryer, by using it. Tip: never use your hairdryer - not unless you want to it to break. Ha ha ha!

Meanwhile K goes to Jenny Lewis concerts and hangs out with people who aren't wearing traffic cones for hats. Lucky him. Speaking of K, he just rang! He got the job! Thank goodness, because I am a frightening LEECH! A drain on resources! And he is a fabulous smoochable hunk of a man with a great new job that makes him happy. Good times. If you check in here in an hour, we will both be blinding drunk, possibly drunk enough to catch STDs off strangers! Only messing. It's only Fair City giving me mad ideas. I'm like a sponge at the moment. Or perhaps a large empty vessell. But clanging, I assure thee! P.S. I know one of the girls in the sexy new Magnum ad. She's the one with the Magnum stick as a moustache. Her name is Barbara. What do you think of that? I am a regular celebrity hob-nobber. By hob-nobbing, I do mean "met once and chatted briefly with in the pub" after a show that Betamaxnomates was starring in. By the way Betamaxlotsofmates, I am saddened by your demise. You should write more, not because you want to, but because I say so. And that's the end of that.

And while we are on the subject of Fair City, did you know, I used to date the cousin of one of the actresses, whatsherface blondie girl? When I say "used to date" what I mean of course is that we "went together" for a few weeks when I was fifteen. It was one of those Romeo/Juliet things, doomed from the start. He stabbed himself with a poison knife! No, that part is untrue.

The black man is sad because his daddy got burnt up. And angry! But this does not improve his acting. It is time I turned off the television. K is coming home to a pile of dirty dishes and a shameful neuro. I need to get Wife Lessons. How To Be A Decent Spouse 101. If you know anyone giving grinds in it, it's neuropraxis@gmail.com. I'll pay upwards of half a jaffa cake and a whatever small change is in my pocket.

neuro-praxis -- tHe HoOvEr Is In ThE cOrNeR, yEaH?