bonne fete!
...i hope there are no dirty words in that last one. mands, please either let me know or tell no one what it says.
Tuesday, February 26
Monday, February 25
my syst'r heheher
there is a girl at work. her name is Fionnula ... or something, but no one calls her that. so Finn is a girl at work who is a blast to work with, even more so after i learned that the pissed off look she wears on her face is not anger but more of a focusing on how much she doesn't want to be there. as it turns out it's not how i work while at the pub that makes her angry, but simply the fact that she has to be there at all. once we all get laughing the day goes much smoother and people frown less.
we write the orders on dockets ... paper bits that get handed to the chef so that she can make something entirely different and cause the customer to frown at me when i explain to them, to their uncaring eyes, that it wasn't my fault and i'd be happy to pee in a free cup of coffee for them. the never take it. we post these dockets above a toaster which has an interesting habit of biting our four arms when we reach over it. i did this on the first day with my first docket, cursed a little and said to myself, and to anyone listening who turned out to be more than the no one i had assumed, this must be the tattoo that everyone gets. since at the time i figured no one had heard me, i went about the rest of my shift fumbling over new menu items and general way of doing things while all the while smiling to myself at how incredibly clever i was.
two weeks later, while she was explaining to me that it wasn't me she hated at work but work itself, Finn told me that she had heard me curse and be clever but didn't have the time to respond because she was too focused on hating work and making wrong sandwiches. we laughed and laughed and reminisced about that day, today at work, nearly four months later. she showed me her scar from getting burned by the toaster. a scar, can you believe it? i hadn't burnt myself since that first day, but she had burned herself often enough for it to leave a scar.
Steven had been taking the piss* out of Finn all lunch hour because she had mispronounced pajama and was unable to pronounce it correctly again. we all laughed and laughed except Finn who just laughed. then i told a story about achee achee achee are and her summer job and her struggles with snanisnics. everyone laughed a bit and it took the pressure off Finn the same bit. what then took another moment off Finn was when, only moments after getting the laugh from H's story, i reached and posted my docket above the toaster and curse a bit and said to myself, and everyone around, that maybe i would get that scar after all.
Finn laughed the hardest.
we write the orders on dockets ... paper bits that get handed to the chef so that she can make something entirely different and cause the customer to frown at me when i explain to them, to their uncaring eyes, that it wasn't my fault and i'd be happy to pee in a free cup of coffee for them. the never take it. we post these dockets above a toaster which has an interesting habit of biting our four arms when we reach over it. i did this on the first day with my first docket, cursed a little and said to myself, and to anyone listening who turned out to be more than the no one i had assumed, this must be the tattoo that everyone gets. since at the time i figured no one had heard me, i went about the rest of my shift fumbling over new menu items and general way of doing things while all the while smiling to myself at how incredibly clever i was.
two weeks later, while she was explaining to me that it wasn't me she hated at work but work itself, Finn told me that she had heard me curse and be clever but didn't have the time to respond because she was too focused on hating work and making wrong sandwiches. we laughed and laughed and reminisced about that day, today at work, nearly four months later. she showed me her scar from getting burned by the toaster. a scar, can you believe it? i hadn't burnt myself since that first day, but she had burned herself often enough for it to leave a scar.
Steven had been taking the piss* out of Finn all lunch hour because she had mispronounced pajama and was unable to pronounce it correctly again. we all laughed and laughed except Finn who just laughed. then i told a story about achee achee achee are and her summer job and her struggles with snanisnics. everyone laughed a bit and it took the pressure off Finn the same bit. what then took another moment off Finn was when, only moments after getting the laugh from H's story, i reached and posted my docket above the toaster and curse a bit and said to myself, and everyone around, that maybe i would get that scar after all.
Finn laughed the hardest.
Friday, February 22
point and check
today my sweater the sweater smells of camp fires and longs nights on porches with memebers of staff and their roommates and matty and big angry brothers of staff who are unimpressed with the levels of noises at four in the morning when they have to work at six. but i don't mind, because it and me gives it character.
wednesday i was a bit bummed and i had nothing to do other than walk to work. my walk to work is a quiet twelve and a half or thirteen minute walk, depending on lights and determination, from my house. i bob my head from side to side, counting the steps and looking at the series of clocks along the way providing check points for my journy. none of them say the correct time, nor do they keep the same time, nor am i sure that all of them are clocks; most importantly, though, is that very rarely are any of them people with which i can chat. thus, a quiet walk.
i was bummed because i was bummed and i was quiet because the clocks weren't talking. but today the ones that weren't clocks were people and they did talk. i ran into milo, whom you haven't met but may hear about him again; and i ran into my bc friend who gave me a hug and a promise of a story that gave here licence to be loud in the plaza we were standing in involving rips and embearassment and hours and halfs that elapsed before strangers told her of it;
and i ran into mitch and his partner (a girl) who were on their way back from the grocery store. i spoke at length with each of them and never once said i had to walk away and get to work, except to ang who invited me along with her roommate to salsa lessons, and to milo who was out with fifteen of his closest friends, and to mitch who had walked across the road with me but not his partner because traffic was being traffic and we were paying less attention.
my clocks that where people checked my points and adjusted my direction and while i didn't know the time i now knew where i was going. at work i was no longer bummed and felt less like a slug and more like a feather.
[you haven't met mitch either but you might hear more of him later too. he started as the new ahmed last week because the old ahmed left for dublin. mitch and his partner are kiwi's.]
wednesday i was a bit bummed and i had nothing to do other than walk to work. my walk to work is a quiet twelve and a half or thirteen minute walk, depending on lights and determination, from my house. i bob my head from side to side, counting the steps and looking at the series of clocks along the way providing check points for my journy. none of them say the correct time, nor do they keep the same time, nor am i sure that all of them are clocks; most importantly, though, is that very rarely are any of them people with which i can chat. thus, a quiet walk.
i was bummed because i was bummed and i was quiet because the clocks weren't talking. but today the ones that weren't clocks were people and they did talk. i ran into milo, whom you haven't met but may hear about him again; and i ran into my bc friend who gave me a hug and a promise of a story that gave here licence to be loud in the plaza we were standing in involving rips and embearassment and hours and halfs that elapsed before strangers told her of it;
and i ran into mitch and his partner (a girl) who were on their way back from the grocery store. i spoke at length with each of them and never once said i had to walk away and get to work, except to ang who invited me along with her roommate to salsa lessons, and to milo who was out with fifteen of his closest friends, and to mitch who had walked across the road with me but not his partner because traffic was being traffic and we were paying less attention.
my clocks that where people checked my points and adjusted my direction and while i didn't know the time i now knew where i was going. at work i was no longer bummed and felt less like a slug and more like a feather.
[you haven't met mitch either but you might hear more of him later too. he started as the new ahmed last week because the old ahmed left for dublin. mitch and his partner are kiwi's.]
Wednesday, February 20
interview
first night in cork
barman: you all right?me: yeah fine. you?
??? ... what can i get you?
oh, a beamish please
where're you from?
canada. here working, traveling, and whatever. hoping to find work in a pub if i can
you've any experience?
sure, about a year's worth at home.
come see me tomorrow.
wow. sure. what's your name?
steve.
second day in cork
bargirl: youl right der?me: sure, fine. is the manager in?
ya, ina meeting doh. come back at af'four, maybe?
sure. thanks. what's your name?
finn.
thanks. and what's his name again?
steve.
great. thanks.
16:28, second day in cork
steve is running circles
steve: you all right der?steve is running circles
me: fine. you.
fine. fine. you want something? a coffee? tea? coke? you're brad, right?
coffee. thanks. yes.
so you've experience at home, have you? it's different here. very different. y'no wat i mean like. think you can learn?
i'm sure i ...
good. good. c'meer, here, drink up. you'll be called a yank too, no one will know the difference and frankly no one will care. you can handle that?
yea..
good. fine. great. that's frank, he's a regular. that's john to your left, he's a regular. i might have a spot clearing up in a week or so so i'll call you then if something comes up you've a seevee?
yea..
numberonit?
yes
good. good. well, this has probably been the easiest interview you've ever had. isn't it.
yes. i think i can honestly say ..
well yank, thanks for coming in. interview's over and i'll call you in a few days. if i don't, drop in.
thanks. what do i owe for the coffee?
nothing, it's on me. besides i've already drank it on you. see you again in a few days, yank.
sure. thank you.
Tuesday, February 19
cove, cobh, kov
we went to cobh two days ago. we would have been matty as well, however he got caught up with an issue at the house and had to wait for the landlord to show up. i gave him a call and he said he'd be here as soon as he could. i sure hope he gets this room to stop spinning.
i had been up for a few hours already and had packed a lunch. turns out it was better for him not to come because i ate the whole thing. however, had he of found the floor he likely wouldn't have been eating all the much.
with tickets bought and seats on the train chosen we sat patiently and talked of all the wonderful things we'd see today. the titanic monument, the catherdal, the baptism (that one we hadn't planned on and obviously didn't talk about before we left) and the lusitania exhibit. perhaps a pub or two along the way as well. we small talked for a good long while, and for a good long while we didn't realize that the train hadn't gone anywhere. then people sitting farther ahead of us dismounted and went about their way back to the station which was confusing because they would have a hard time getting to cobh (cove) if they stayed at the station.
turned out that we were going to be the ones in trouble beause the train was taking the day off and giving the bus company all the buisness. instead of a nice comfy train ride the whole group, four more than bus capasity, packed together and rode the road to queenstown (cobh).
we walked to the cathedral, stayed only a moment because the next service wasn't until seven, it was noon thirty at the time, which was also the kick off time for the baptism i meantioned earlier. we went to a museum which was also taking an undefined holiday, giving all it's buisness to the cathedral which was hosting the private party. so we went to the bench park and watched the ocean for a while and ate sandwhiches and oranges and talked about grass stains.
we went to another museum and learned about the titanic, emigration, lusitanian and something else that didn't make the cut for the days memory bank. we sat in the cafe and talked about overloading information and tried to guess what time it was. sarah always won.
the bus train came back for us, which was nice because cobh was cold and done with us. we tried to go to african lion safari's little brother but the train driver was confused with the hours. we saw some trees instead. they were big and green and brown and read and asked me to climb them. i politely refused for a while, but at last succum to their hospitality. i climbed and climbed and loved it very much.
i slepted like a baby that night.
i had been up for a few hours already and had packed a lunch. turns out it was better for him not to come because i ate the whole thing. however, had he of found the floor he likely wouldn't have been eating all the much.
with tickets bought and seats on the train chosen we sat patiently and talked of all the wonderful things we'd see today. the titanic monument, the catherdal, the baptism (that one we hadn't planned on and obviously didn't talk about before we left) and the lusitania exhibit. perhaps a pub or two along the way as well. we small talked for a good long while, and for a good long while we didn't realize that the train hadn't gone anywhere. then people sitting farther ahead of us dismounted and went about their way back to the station which was confusing because they would have a hard time getting to cobh (cove) if they stayed at the station.
turned out that we were going to be the ones in trouble beause the train was taking the day off and giving the bus company all the buisness. instead of a nice comfy train ride the whole group, four more than bus capasity, packed together and rode the road to queenstown (cobh).
we walked to the cathedral, stayed only a moment because the next service wasn't until seven, it was noon thirty at the time, which was also the kick off time for the baptism i meantioned earlier. we went to a museum which was also taking an undefined holiday, giving all it's buisness to the cathedral which was hosting the private party. so we went to the bench park and watched the ocean for a while and ate sandwhiches and oranges and talked about grass stains.
we went to another museum and learned about the titanic, emigration, lusitanian and something else that didn't make the cut for the days memory bank. we sat in the cafe and talked about overloading information and tried to guess what time it was. sarah always won.
the bus train came back for us, which was nice because cobh was cold and done with us. we tried to go to african lion safari's little brother but the train driver was confused with the hours. we saw some trees instead. they were big and green and brown and read and asked me to climb them. i politely refused for a while, but at last succum to their hospitality. i climbed and climbed and loved it very much.
i slepted like a baby that night.
Saturday, February 16
locked in
st valentines day i spent at work. which is fine because my mother/valentine is a world away. matty had a night on the town with our two new travel buddies, sarah and nolan. they went out to dinner someplace and and drinks at other places and came to visit me at the end of it all.
roy and i had an entertaining night. i wished all the regulars (men, mind you) a happy valintines day which, for the most part, they shrugged away any concern they might have had which was minimal to begin with. earlier that day at lunch i had wished the same to steve who said he'd give me a kiss later.
he didn't.
as the trio waited around for me to clean up slash decided between cards (matty has learned how to play euchre which really means he tries to play poker with every hand) and going out to a late bar. i suggested we stay at this late bar, not this in the sense that i was about to suggest a particular one but this as in immediately located under out feet. fifteen minutes later, when i had explained the concept of a lock-in* to the girls, i had finished cleaning and we sat down for a good three hours of deep conversation and eighties music. roy, myself, the trio and a new character, kevin (whom i have yet to talk about but might at some other occasion) liberated several pints from the taps and spent a wonderful valentines with the closest thing to a family i have this side of the atlantic because, as well all know, this day is all about family.
unfortunately, i had missed two calls from my valentine because the eighties were too loud and my phone was vibrating in a jacket too far away from me to be warn. she left some nice message though.
nolan spent most of the next day in a coma.
*lock-in: the bartenders kick everyone out save for their friends and the best regulars and the small party of people say "locked in" the pub until the large or at least medium sized morning hours.
roy and i had an entertaining night. i wished all the regulars (men, mind you) a happy valintines day which, for the most part, they shrugged away any concern they might have had which was minimal to begin with. earlier that day at lunch i had wished the same to steve who said he'd give me a kiss later.
he didn't.
as the trio waited around for me to clean up slash decided between cards (matty has learned how to play euchre which really means he tries to play poker with every hand) and going out to a late bar. i suggested we stay at this late bar, not this in the sense that i was about to suggest a particular one but this as in immediately located under out feet. fifteen minutes later, when i had explained the concept of a lock-in* to the girls, i had finished cleaning and we sat down for a good three hours of deep conversation and eighties music. roy, myself, the trio and a new character, kevin (whom i have yet to talk about but might at some other occasion) liberated several pints from the taps and spent a wonderful valentines with the closest thing to a family i have this side of the atlantic because, as well all know, this day is all about family.
unfortunately, i had missed two calls from my valentine because the eighties were too loud and my phone was vibrating in a jacket too far away from me to be warn. she left some nice message though.
nolan spent most of the next day in a coma.
*lock-in: the bartenders kick everyone out save for their friends and the best regulars and the small party of people say "locked in" the pub until the large or at least medium sized morning hours.
Thursday, February 14
happy candy day
to everyone who reads, happy valentines day.
i miss you all.
hope you like the pretty colour...
--bbb
i miss you all.
hope you like the pretty colour...
--bbb
Tuesday, February 12
advent
A few days ago, five really, i went to hang out with this guy. a bunch of other people came too, which was pretty cool because it'd been a while since i'd been to a spot with a mass amounts of people that i didn't have to serve drink* to. the guy talked for a while, then spent a bit of time letting other people talk, then some others sang. this all stopped to allow everyone to go for a quick jog around the building. when the got back to their seats they all had spots on their foreheads. weird, but i didn't want to be left out so i joined in.
at the end of it all i felt like i should give up chocolate or something. but since i don't eat chocolate to begin with i decided on television. i told matty about this experience and he decided to watch more television and more trashy television. also, he would try and get me to watch it too. now, when i sit in the kitchen studying french and reading my one book a week (at the end of it all i felt like i should not only give up something, but add something too) he makes enormous sounds from his spot dans la canapé that might be laughter if i didn't know he was watching simple life:interns which isn't so much funny as embarrassing to humans everywhere.
*in ireland the word drink can be both singular and plural. i suppose it is because they use the word so often that it saves a mass amount of time if they drop the last letter.
at the end of it all i felt like i should give up chocolate or something. but since i don't eat chocolate to begin with i decided on television. i told matty about this experience and he decided to watch more television and more trashy television. also, he would try and get me to watch it too. now, when i sit in the kitchen studying french and reading my one book a week (at the end of it all i felt like i should not only give up something, but add something too) he makes enormous sounds from his spot dans la canapé that might be laughter if i didn't know he was watching simple life:interns which isn't so much funny as embarrassing to humans everywhere.
*in ireland the word drink can be both singular and plural. i suppose it is because they use the word so often that it saves a mass amount of time if they drop the last letter.
Monday, February 11
Living Profile No. 1
in loo of tommy telling me the great news that a book i just read, jPod, has been made into a television show on the CBC ... i would like to play a game with all of you.
it's from the book and i'm going to steal it. thank you douglas coupland. you can see more on the book's website. complete them in the third person, because it'll be funnier.
-----------------------------------------------
Name: Birdley Janet Joseph Morley
Name people actually use: Yank; Bird
Reason for unusual name people actually use: Being from Canada his boss thinks it's both ironic and insulting to call him an american. what steve doesn't know is that it's not that Canadians don't like americans ... but that you don't like them and that that mistaking him for someone you don't like before you've got to know him // his mom called him birdley when he was in trouble and he needed a name that wasn't associated with broken vases, pocketed cookies and pooped pants.
Smokes: No
Preferred Room Temperature: 20°c
Favourite Video Game: donkey kong country for snes
Preferred Simpsons Character: Gill
Preferred Karaoke Song: that one the whole of 141 sung at the last night out at that bar we never went to until our last year because it was a shady, scuzzy, beer fly trap before.
Most Disturbing Trait: he blogs stories about you without consulting you. you being each and every one of you.
does this make most readers frightened that they might end up in an expose on salutmaman: yes
is he aware that no one reads his blog and therefor it doesn't matter: no
-----------------------------------------------
now it's your turn. complete them in the third person because it'll be funnier.
it's from the book and i'm going to steal it. thank you douglas coupland. you can see more on the book's website. complete them in the third person, because it'll be funnier.
-----------------------------------------------
Name: Birdley Janet Joseph Morley
Name people actually use: Yank; Bird
Reason for unusual name people actually use: Being from Canada his boss thinks it's both ironic and insulting to call him an american. what steve doesn't know is that it's not that Canadians don't like americans ... but that you don't like them and that that mistaking him for someone you don't like before you've got to know him // his mom called him birdley when he was in trouble and he needed a name that wasn't associated with broken vases, pocketed cookies and pooped pants.
Smokes: No
Preferred Room Temperature: 20°c
Favourite Video Game: donkey kong country for snes
Preferred Simpsons Character: Gill
Preferred Karaoke Song: that one the whole of 141 sung at the last night out at that bar we never went to until our last year because it was a shady, scuzzy, beer fly trap before.
Most Disturbing Trait: he blogs stories about you without consulting you. you being each and every one of you.
does this make most readers frightened that they might end up in an expose on salutmaman: yes
is he aware that no one reads his blog and therefor it doesn't matter: no
-----------------------------------------------
now it's your turn. complete them in the third person because it'll be funnier.
Saturday, February 9
and the world spins madly on
nolan arrived a week ago and has a job and a house and a group of pubs we can all call home. she met a friend in dublin (sarah maloney) who turned out to be a friend of a girl matty and know from school. it also turned out she was in the same residence building as mandy when she was a first year don "are-eh".
small world.
last night we had our staff christmas party and everyone took the opportunity to wish to everyone many more times than was necessary a happy christmas. we had dinner at captian america's and they all commented how "american" it was which got me thinking how flashy everyone must think america is. i also noticed how the restaurant resembled a kelsie's or boston pizza's on steriods. then i realised that it really was a kelsie's or boston pizza's except that it had captian ameria comic books on all the walls, not sports parifanalia or old wooden cart wheels.
small world.
i finished jPod the other day. i'm going to read on the road now. jPod is written by a west coast canadian and it was great to read a story that used names of cities i new of and associated with home even though i have never been to any of them. on the road is written by an american who was born in montreal and is his story of traveling across america. at least i think it is. is it ironic that i travel to another continent and read authors from home?
and the small world spins madly on.
miss you all.
--(bb)b
small world.
last night we had our staff christmas party and everyone took the opportunity to wish to everyone many more times than was necessary a happy christmas. we had dinner at captian america's and they all commented how "american" it was which got me thinking how flashy everyone must think america is. i also noticed how the restaurant resembled a kelsie's or boston pizza's on steriods. then i realised that it really was a kelsie's or boston pizza's except that it had captian ameria comic books on all the walls, not sports parifanalia or old wooden cart wheels.
small world.
i finished jPod the other day. i'm going to read on the road now. jPod is written by a west coast canadian and it was great to read a story that used names of cities i new of and associated with home even though i have never been to any of them. on the road is written by an american who was born in montreal and is his story of traveling across america. at least i think it is. is it ironic that i travel to another continent and read authors from home?
and the small world spins madly on.
miss you all.
--(bb)b
Wednesday, February 6
steven o'flynn
steve and i have a healthy relationship, at least as far as i know. he calls me a yank but i know he does it because he likes me. he says it like it's supposed to be an insult but i know it's not, he's just taking the piss out of me.
that means to make fun of a person.
if we close together he gives me a ride home which is always welcome because in ireland it rains a lot and most times you are outside it is raining. since i have to be outside to walk home i usually end up getting rained on.
one particular day he gave me a ride home it had not been raining, it had been snowing. but snow in ireland doesn't stay for long and by the time we had finished up the snow had melted and froze again and made ice on the windshield of his car which was made worse by irish weather because it had decided, again, to rain.
being a canadian i knew this was easily fixed by the ice scraper that everyone keeps in the entrance of their houses for just such occasions like this. as an irishman he knew nothing of this practice, called me a yank and asked for the bottle of water at my feet because the whipper fluid wasn't working. i thought, for a moment, but only a moment, how he knew there was a bottle at my feet only to realize that my car would likely have had a bottle on the passenger side; not because i had remember putting it there but simply because passenger sides always have water bottles on the floor (check for yourself, but i know you know it's true).
he sprayed the water on the windshield and the ice began melting and in the same moment that i was thinking "wow, this is the greatest idea ever why didn't i think of that" he hit the whippers and i realized that it was also the worst idea ever. not because he didn't have those dumb canadian tire ice-muncher things that only work because the whole commercial is shot indoors but because he was now covered in icey-shush water that was much better off safely contained in the water bottle he was still holding.
in as many movements that he takes to make a trip around the bar he frantically grabbed for the switches, stop the cold from getting to him and will the past three seconds out of existence. in the car, covering my mouth and thinking unfunny thoughts i sat trying not to get fired for laughing hysterically at my boss.
that means to make fun of a person.
if we close together he gives me a ride home which is always welcome because in ireland it rains a lot and most times you are outside it is raining. since i have to be outside to walk home i usually end up getting rained on.
one particular day he gave me a ride home it had not been raining, it had been snowing. but snow in ireland doesn't stay for long and by the time we had finished up the snow had melted and froze again and made ice on the windshield of his car which was made worse by irish weather because it had decided, again, to rain.
being a canadian i knew this was easily fixed by the ice scraper that everyone keeps in the entrance of their houses for just such occasions like this. as an irishman he knew nothing of this practice, called me a yank and asked for the bottle of water at my feet because the whipper fluid wasn't working. i thought, for a moment, but only a moment, how he knew there was a bottle at my feet only to realize that my car would likely have had a bottle on the passenger side; not because i had remember putting it there but simply because passenger sides always have water bottles on the floor (check for yourself, but i know you know it's true).
he sprayed the water on the windshield and the ice began melting and in the same moment that i was thinking "wow, this is the greatest idea ever why didn't i think of that" he hit the whippers and i realized that it was also the worst idea ever. not because he didn't have those dumb canadian tire ice-muncher things that only work because the whole commercial is shot indoors but because he was now covered in icey-shush water that was much better off safely contained in the water bottle he was still holding.
in as many movements that he takes to make a trip around the bar he frantically grabbed for the switches, stop the cold from getting to him and will the past three seconds out of existence. in the car, covering my mouth and thinking unfunny thoughts i sat trying not to get fired for laughing hysterically at my boss.
laugh it up, yank. laugh hard. this is the only time you'll ever get to do this. so laugh good and hard.for whole trip home the incident was my fault.
Tuesday, February 5
steve
my manager's name is steve. you remember steve, don't you? he's the one who was in tears over my keg stacking during the jazz fest.
well, quite often he gets rammy. he'll go running around the pub, making himself more worked up than he was before feeding his ulcer with a cup of coffee every few minutes. i keep telling him he should lay off the caffeine lest it stunt his growth. he keeps telling me that at 27 five foot five is as tall as he gets. then i'll make a joke about being a leprechaun, he'll call me a yank and then run circles round the pub.
a wise man once told me that a wise man once told him that he never repeats a step he's taken. he takes his time and makes sure to bring with him the tools he needs. i don't think that was meant to be a metaphor or anything, but i still like to think about it sometimes and how it, you know, like, makes thoughts think.
while my thoughts were thinking about whether i was to share this bit of knowledge with him they all generally decided that it is better not to share advice that was not asked for. this, also, came from a wise man i know. at least, that is what they would have concluded had steve not interrupted my day dream by asking why the sink was over flowing and the pint i was pulling had filled the floor. he handed me a coffee and a bit of paper that said getyourheadinthegame. i smiled and failed. i tried again and failed again.
steve was looking at me.
i pictured steve in a green suit with a little green hat and a little bowl of lucky charms and smiled. he shook his head, took a bite of the charms and walked away.
well, quite often he gets rammy. he'll go running around the pub, making himself more worked up than he was before feeding his ulcer with a cup of coffee every few minutes. i keep telling him he should lay off the caffeine lest it stunt his growth. he keeps telling me that at 27 five foot five is as tall as he gets. then i'll make a joke about being a leprechaun, he'll call me a yank and then run circles round the pub.
a wise man once told me that a wise man once told him that he never repeats a step he's taken. he takes his time and makes sure to bring with him the tools he needs. i don't think that was meant to be a metaphor or anything, but i still like to think about it sometimes and how it, you know, like, makes thoughts think.
while my thoughts were thinking about whether i was to share this bit of knowledge with him they all generally decided that it is better not to share advice that was not asked for. this, also, came from a wise man i know. at least, that is what they would have concluded had steve not interrupted my day dream by asking why the sink was over flowing and the pint i was pulling had filled the floor. he handed me a coffee and a bit of paper that said getyourheadinthegame. i smiled and failed. i tried again and failed again.
steve was looking at me.
i pictured steve in a green suit with a little green hat and a little bowl of lucky charms and smiled. he shook his head, took a bite of the charms and walked away.
Saturday, February 2
simple and snowy
happy groundhog day!
the irish lift their heads briefly from their pints to take the piss out of the dumb yankee and his silly traditions. Ha, i say to myself ... little do they know ...
it snowed here yesterday morning, in big meaty flakes. a yard in canada would have been covered in a thin fluffy sheet, ready to be tramped or shaped or folded into boulders. however, the concrete covered yard in ireland ate them, all of them. they fell to the concrete reluctantly joining the growing water slick. it was odd, disappointing almost; seeing the snow, knowing it's potential, and then ... nothing. like irish soil rejected the idea of snow. all that snow falling and nothing to show for it. waking up an hour later i wouldn't have believed it had snowed at all.
the snow fell harder. my view from the kitchen window cut out the yard floor and, unless i stepped out into the yard, it looked like the whole world was snow white. it was great, a bit of home. one of those things eh ... don't know until it's gone. i had my moment though. seeing a bit of snow recharged me more than a week of sleep.
i've given my one month's notice at which time i'll depart on my trip around europe and maybe ireland. before i left i was told i should travel without flying.
i'll let you know if it's possible since i've failed so far.
the irish lift their heads briefly from their pints to take the piss out of the dumb yankee and his silly traditions. Ha, i say to myself ... little do they know ...
Prior to the conversion of the Irish Celts, Saint Brigit's Day was known as Imbolc, one of four seasonal junctions in the pagan calendar of Ireland. It was the start of spring, and its name refers to "ewes' milk" and to the birth of farm animals. Imbolc was dedicated to the Celtic goddess Brigit, who was associated with learning, poetry, crafts and healing. Many of her pagan characteristics were retained when she was made a saint. [source]but try bringing that up in bar conversation without more ridicule. i guess i'll just have to just bask in my own brilliance and ability to perform simple internet searches.
it snowed here yesterday morning, in big meaty flakes. a yard in canada would have been covered in a thin fluffy sheet, ready to be tramped or shaped or folded into boulders. however, the concrete covered yard in ireland ate them, all of them. they fell to the concrete reluctantly joining the growing water slick. it was odd, disappointing almost; seeing the snow, knowing it's potential, and then ... nothing. like irish soil rejected the idea of snow. all that snow falling and nothing to show for it. waking up an hour later i wouldn't have believed it had snowed at all.
the snow fell harder. my view from the kitchen window cut out the yard floor and, unless i stepped out into the yard, it looked like the whole world was snow white. it was great, a bit of home. one of those things eh ... don't know until it's gone. i had my moment though. seeing a bit of snow recharged me more than a week of sleep.
i've given my one month's notice at which time i'll depart on my trip around europe and maybe ireland. before i left i was told i should travel without flying.
i'll let you know if it's possible since i've failed so far.
Friday, February 1
complete concern
[occasionally i cheat to make it look like i've been more diligent with posting stories than i actually have been. if you happen across a story when you're scrolling down the page that you can't believe you didn't see before because you've been checking daily and nothing slips by you ... then chances are that it wasn't there before and i've just added today.
not to worry though because i'll also likely have posted something on the 'real' day and linked back to it.]
a few days ago i went to the pharmacy next door to pick up some tools for the surgery i was about to undertake: it was time my stitches came out. a few short minutes pasted as i circled round the displays. the beautician came up to me and confirmed my suspicions that i was in the wrong section because it was very likely that i did not want coverup or ... whatever else it was i was looking at. it all looked like scissors and tweezors to me.
i explained to the pharmacist what my task was and asked what tools she felt i might need. she answered me with a look that told me she had never been more concerned before in her life and she had seen her seven children through diapers, school and their own births. my desire to remove my own stitches trumped them all.
not to worry though because i'll also likely have posted something on the 'real' day and linked back to it.]
a few days ago i went to the pharmacy next door to pick up some tools for the surgery i was about to undertake: it was time my stitches came out. a few short minutes pasted as i circled round the displays. the beautician came up to me and confirmed my suspicions that i was in the wrong section because it was very likely that i did not want coverup or ... whatever else it was i was looking at. it all looked like scissors and tweezors to me.
i explained to the pharmacist what my task was and asked what tools she felt i might need. she answered me with a look that told me she had never been more concerned before in her life and she had seen her seven children through diapers, school and their own births. my desire to remove my own stitches trumped them all.
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