Archive for May, 2011

Just Got The Hang Of Thursdays

I spend a lot of time giving out about where I am from, you guys. I’m pretty harsh when it comes to Offaly. And you know, that’s not really fair of me, because no matter how much I complain, it’s still a pretty hilarious place to live. It’s kinda like my life in general really- I mean you wouldn’t choose it, but if you are stuck there, you start to see the funny side. And Banagher is pretty legendary in an ‘Oh My God Is This Real Life’ kind of way. I bet there is no other place in the world in which a guy in a wheelchair can lead a horse around town, and nobody bats an eyelid. Perfectly normal behaviour, right there. Not that it isn’t ok for dudes in wheelchairs to own horses- dudes in wheelchairs can own anything, capitalism is for everyone- but usually they leave the walking of the horse to other people. You know, people who can actually walk.

Anyway, basically what I’m saying is that I am from a strange place. Not only is it the gay capital of the midlands, but I’m pretty confidant that when those hilarious chaps sat down and decided to write father Ted, they really meant to set it here. Unfortunately they had to make up an island, since Banagher was copywrited [they had to wait to set a show here until they had a bigger budget, like they did with Pure Mule. What the hell was THAT show about, by the way? I never got it. I’m pretty sure it was supposed to be sexy, and that makes me so unbelievably sad when I think about what it was actually like. For shame, RTE, for shame.] or some shit, but they didn’t pull the wool over my eyes. You would not believe how hairy some of the babies here are, basically, is what I’m saying.

It’s kind of hard for me to describe how ridiculous this place is sometimes, while still being believed. Most people who I told about the infamous Unwed Mothers float for St. Patricks day a few years ago didn’t believe me until I had photographic evidence, so it is with some trepidition that I announce to all you dudes out ther that today is the greatest day in the history of Banagher- there is a monkey loose in the village.

A genuine, real life, no fooling CIRCUS MONKEY has apparently escaped it’s life of servitude and gone on the lam. In Banagher.

You couldn’t make it up.

At first, I was as incredulous as the next person, because I found out from an 8 year old, and usually those dudes are not great as news sources[Although Side Note: I found a notebook in work today that turned out to be a little kids diary and it was a fucking unbelievable read]. But then about an hour later a lady came into the shop looking pretty worried, and she asked if I’d seen a monkey, which: possibly the greatest customer service enquiry in the history of Supervalu. I hadn’t, so she asked me to keep an eye out, because they were missing one at the circus. Up until this point I had no idea there was a circus in town, so the awesome level of this conversation was pretty fucking high. Anyway, she was like ‘Chap, we pure need this monkey back though, for tricks and shit. If you see him, call us, adn we’ll give you a reward’. Which got me thinking two things:

1: If I found the monkey, I could be rich beyond my wildest dreams [circuses are secret cash cows, y’all]

2:If I found the monkey, I could have a fricking circus monkey in my house forever.

I think we all know which of these options I’m planning on taking, right? Imma be literally covered in bitches if I own a genuine circus monkey- that’s a monkey that can theoretically do magic tricks you guys. No brainer, right there.

Anyway, Imma catch this bad boy, so you guys can dick off this time, BUT I’m gonna show you how it is done, in case your life ever turns into a badly written sitcom where zany adventures are always just around the corner, like mine did. It’s really simple actually-


You will need-

-One tree house

My treehouse is obviously the best choice

Don’t you wish your treehouse was hot, like mine

-One Skipping Rope

Ability to skip: Unnecessary

Also a vague knowledge of how slipknots work is good, too.

– One Large Cardboard Box

Lol, I totally said box just now

There are so many jokes to go with here, pretend I made them all

-One Brick

Breaking down a wall is not encouraged [much]

If you're lame, you could just use a rock or something.

-Some Monkey Friends

The loveheart is just for us

If you don't have a stuffed monkey, why are you even reading this shit? Go home.

– Monkeybait

First a box joke, and now THIS?

Warning: Do not accidentally eat your monkeybait.


I see you the middle distance.. in the middle distance

Warning: Objects in the binoculars may appear nearer than in reality. See above Fr. Ted reference

-Tea [optional]

Biscuits are also a solid life choice

Not Optional: More Tea

-Not Pictured: Way Too Much Time On Your Hands


– Place your monkey bait and monkey friends in an appealing pose in your treehouse.

– Tie your skipping rope to your box [this part is tricky depending on how your mind works]

– Lower your box/ skipping rope over your Monkeybait and Friends, like so

Those decoy monkeys look like they are having a good time

The angle is very important, it must be exactly Steep

-Tie your skipping rope in a slipknot, or in a loose ass knot for all you kids who never went to scouts/brownies or anything, call that a childhood do you? Pah! You guys are gonna find monkey catching harder than you thought.

-Put your brick behind the box, to stop it blowing around like a bastard.

Close up, what you have now looks like this:

Those decoy monkeys are looking seriously chilled

In real life, this will probably be more in focus. Probably.

-Go hide behind your box [Again, depending on how your mind works, this is either easily done or a mindblowing experience for everyone involved] and look out for monkeys using your binoculars.

The steering wheel is an allegory

Remember ladies: Covered In Bitches

-When you sight a monkey through your binoculars, entice it with your fantastic Monkey impressions. When it comes closer, it will become entranced with the tree house, as it will remind the monkey of his childhood, and also maybe the circus. Then it will see it’s monkey buddies having a picnic and chilling, and go join them, like a rad bastard.

-As soon as the monkey picks up the Monkeybait, pull the rope to drop the box. Then put the brick on top to keep him there. Once the monkey has fallen asleep from rage/ fear, take him out and break his spirit until you have a new BFF.

– Inform PETA accordingly [PSYCHE]

Foolproof plans are my specialty right now.


Hulking Out

I just accidentally told Mary Cleary a lie, which I kind of feel bad about because mostly she’s rad [You guys should read her blog too and check that shit out for yourselves ]. I mean, I don’t feel all the way bad about it because she thinks twincest is hilarious so this could be pretty crappy revenge maybe?

The lie I told her was that I would write a blog post about being angry and embarrassing, and the sad fact is that anger very rarely makes me embarrassing. Not because I am class at it, more the exact opposite. I am super bad at anger, you guys, it’s a serious issue I have in my life.

You guys have probably read some other posts I made here, and you’d be forgiven for thinking ‘Why are you blowing smoke up my ass, chap, you seemed pretty good at anger those times you were angry back then. Clearly you are telling me lies now’. If only, guys. Imma lay some harsh truth on you right now:

I pretty much could not give a shit about what that dude said about Gay Marriage anymore.

That shit is old news to me, whatevs like. If he says it again, Imma be super pissed, but now that it’s already happened I couldn’t care less. Because my anger problem is not that I can’t get angry, it’s that I can’t stay angry.

I am actually incapable of giving a shit about anything for longer than a day or two, unless it’s a medical problem or I’ve fallen in love with it. Everything else falls off my radar wicked fast. It’s like serious issues that I really truly believe in keep accidentally putting on red shirts in the morning before they come visit me, and so what happens is they get hyper important for about half an hour, and then an alien shoots them and we all learn a lesson about Intergalactic politics or some shit.

Even right this second I am arguing with a dude on twitter [who is cool here? That’s right, I am. Salient arguments condensed into 140 characters right here, bitches] about racism [I’m personally against it], and the sad thing is that at some stage I am going to get SO BORED of him that even racism won’t be enough to make me wanna communicate anymore. I will pretty much lose interest after he goes to sleep and never speak of it again.  And that’s basically how I operate on every level most of the time. Which is kinda super embarrassing now that I think about it, because he’s probably not gonna forget that he’s a racist, but I am until the next time he says something racist, and then the whole thing will start all over again, and really, that’s bad enough in real life, but I’ll be double spamming everyone’s twitter feeds, and I just don’t need that guilt.

I’m pretty sure the only reason I keep updating this blog is that I keep getting reminded about it by gmail, so it’s fresh in my mind. Maybe I need a similar feature for ‘shit I’m supposed to be mad at’. Does google offer a ‘these people disagree with you morally’ add- on? They should. I could use that app.

It’s not just the big issues though, I pretty much forget that I’m mad at everyone in my life. That was wicked annoying as a teenager, when I’d do fantastic storming out of the sitting room, slamming doors, yelling all kinds of sweet- ass insults at my mother- and then after playing Grand Theft Auto for like five minutes, make her a cup of tea without even thinking. That’s why I never got my xbox, right there. Or a pony.

So I suppose I actually am, in a roundabout way, almost constantly embarrassed by my anger. I am constantly having conversations like:

PERSON: ‘Hey, you know Ignatio? Turns out he really DID eat that sandwich?’

ME: ‘NO WAY?!  Who and what are we talking about again?’

PERSON: ‘You know, yesterday, you had a sandwich, we starred in that Pedro Almodovar movie, suddenly you had no sandwich? You were pretty pissed about it? It was Chicken Salad? No?’

ME: *stares blankly into the distance thinking about Spain and also being transgendered* ‘Man, I am hungry, lets get some sandwiches or some shit..’

Is it just me that this happens to, or do you think Fred Phelps is like phoning it in some days? Like he actually woke up one day and was like ‘You know, I am actually not that mad at homos anymore, but we’re already at the funeral, at this stage it’s more hassle to cancel’, and ever since then he’s been caught up in his own steam? He  doesn’t want to be a homophobe anymore, but he has this whole career made out of it now, and he’s protesting everywhere just so he doesn’t lose face? Just in case, I think someone ought to ask him. Via the medium of partyboy.

Oh and something about Oprah. You’re right, Cleary, the lady has class. And probably has no embarrassing emotions at all, probably she gives out her emotions to the people in her audience who aren’t lucky enough to get a wicked car or something. ‘If everyone looks under their seats, you’ll find a free gift! That’s right, it’s a bottle of  ‘Oprah being inappropriately turned on while watching  Toy Story. HAVE A GREAT DAY’

Some people can paint

I don’t wanna sound big headed, but there are some things in this world that I excel at. Everyone has badass talents that nobody is as good at as them, and I am  no exception. Some of my fantastic abilities are1) Being able to keep my face really still for a long time. Like seriously, for HOURS [probably]. If people pretending to be statues didn’t creep me out in the extreme, I’d beat them so hard at that game. I could be the best busker ever. 2) Puns. Especially puns where puns are definitely not the appropriate response- that shit is my bread and butter. 3) Remembering the rude/sexy part of everything I’ve ever learned in my life [alright, hands up- that’s pretty much all there is to Classics, so maybe that isn’t a talent in itself. It was probably just ‘learning’.

Basically, my talents would be incredibly useful if I was a clown or a jester or some shit. The sad thing is I am not in fact that kind of creepy bastard, and so they are almost entirely useless.  This has started to bother me lately, because I’ve realised that I am ridiculously bad at other things. Other, useful things. Things like tying my laces, not falling over and finding a job.

I’m pretty much the worst at finding a job. I know, I know, you are sitting there thinking that is impossible. ‘How’, you are saying, ‘How can you be bad at getting a job? You have a degree in Latin and ancient sexy parties and reading books- THAT IS SO APPLICABLE TO LIFE!’ Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you guys- when anyone in a TED talk says we need more people studying the humanities, they are talking out of their asses. The only thing I could ever be hired for with my credentials is Dinner Guest. I am amazing at dinner parties. I’m pretty sure nobody is interested in hiring a dinner guest, though. Even the very lonely are having a recession, like.

I’m still looking though. I spend all my free time pimping myself out on [not literally, I mean, it’s no craigslist, I do have standards like] and the like, but so far, no matter how amazing my cover letters are, everyone thinks I am a bit crap for work. Which I do not understand, because I have never not had a job. I guess maybe I’ve already reached my hiring quota. Still, hand out enough CVs and someone is bound to hire me, right? Right?

Below I have mapped out exactly how to hand out CVs if you are me:

1: Get The Little One to call you before she goes to work

2: Decide to not get up then because you have fallen asleep and that’s pretty rad. Set alarm for 11

3:Wake up at 1, disorientated and afraid of the future

4: Shower and put on clean and impressive clothes

5: Realise you don’t own grown up clothes [again. Resolve to remember this next time]

6: Spend some time playing Professor Leyton. Remember what you were supposed to do. Be disappointed in self.

7: Rebel against doctors by wearing skinny jeans. realise that not wearing them in a while means you have to stretch them a bit so you can move.

8: Do lunges

9: Have neighbour spot you doing lunges through your window.

10: Wave at neighbour.

11: Lose balance

12: Remember the point again. Look for CVs.

13: Fail to find CVs. Decide to print more out in town somewhere

14: Accidentally lock coat inside apartment. Curse.

15: Go into town

16: Find internet cafe

17: Print CVs. Congratulate self on grown up behaviour. Develop spring in step.

18: Leave internet cafe and walk towards Grafton street.

19: Notice it is drizzling

20: Notice it is in fact pouring rain.

21: No, actually, it is also hailstoning. And raining. Hard.

22: Try to keep CV’s dry in shirt.

23: Realise shirt is also soaking wet.

24: Take pulpy pile of CVs out of shirt

25: Scare passers by.

26: Give up and wait for bus

27: Develop chest infection.

Hey, maybe I can get a job at wikihow!

Also, I’m pretty much afraid of being alive right now. Steven Moffat has actually ruined any chance I ever had of being a normal human being. No spoilers, but just so you guys know- I’m pretty sure that

1) dude has a massive boner for blind people

2) His kids probably have nightmares like you wouldn’t believe.

Basically you guys, I’ve been wandering around scared out of my mind for a couple days now, not getting hired, and it’s really getting in the way of my life. You know, like whatever my life is. Supervalu, basically. But luckily for me, Supervalu has got my back sometimes. The dudes who are in charge of it got together this week and said ‘Yo guys, our supermarket chain is fine and everything, but it’s Pretty Dull. If only we could make it more exciting, like with lasers or some shit except less dangerous and costly’, and then one of them came up with the best idea ever. He was like ‘Chaps- I have the solution to our boring shopping experience. Something that is literally gonna make heads explode with the very idea of it. You guys, you know what we need?



SPINY RAVE FRUIT YOU GUYS! Who the hell looked at one of those things and said ‘I need to have that thing in my stomach like right this second’. Someone pretty rad, that’s who.

This fruit should not exist. It looks like a trippy pineapple. But not only is it a fucking real thing you can put in your stomach to create awesomeness, it’s frickin ridiculously good for you. If you eat this thing all the time, it will cure your asthma. This spiny motherfucker get’s all up in your lungs and makes them respect. Not good enough for you? It also is wicked useful if you are diabetic, it’s all like ‘Blood sugar GET IN LINE’ and your blood sugar totally does. And you know what else? It helps you lose weight.

Yeah, you heard.

Dragon Fruit [Also known as LADY OF THE FUCKING NIGHT[!]] is a badass, spine covered, bright pink kind of weightwatchers.

Based on this, I have set myself two life goals:

1: Get a job

2: Be as awesome as this fruit.

Life plans are the best.