matty and the girls where out doing their thing. the girls, having skipped work, were at the brog (shoe) because it wasn't the shel because the shel was too close to work. matty was too close to work because he didn't want to miss some of his training. langer.
i had met up with brian at the shel and we left from there in a car of steven's because he was heading to a different part of town, but mostly because that's just the sort of thing you do for friends on paddy's day, which is to say everyday of the year. upon getting to the KLM we met terry and the regulars and the pool table named john. we made a point of making plans to go back to a pub near the shel because that's just the sort of thing that happens when you make plans three weeks prior; things change. this also meant that when the girls and matty took a notion to walk our way we'd likely pass them on the road.
a few phone calls, text's and several hours later we still hadn't left the KLM for the pub near the shel at which the girls and matty had been waiting for ... well, several hours. the phone call came in and i answered it and gave it to brian.
'i'm not talking to her'
'wat d'you mean?' asked a bewildered brian 'who's this?' he asked the phone. his face changed from one of a person in control and having a good time to that of a young child who had just been picked up by his father aftering pooping his pants. with eye's wider than most people would have thought possible he passed the phone to the only person who could protect him at all: his mother. who, need i remind you, has been in the pub since noon, which it is now several hours plus a few after.
mama brian delt with the situation the only way she new how which meant not dealing with the situation at all but pretending that she was speaking to a friend of hers whom she could hardly hear through the cell phone's reception which, ironically, was exactly what she thought was happening. brian turned the phone rightside up for her and moments later terry took the phone and gave directions.
the girls and matty turned up some time later and stayed for a bit, but my time has run out and i'll have to complete this again some other time.
[i hope you had a wonderful paddy's day! i posted some pictures on my flicker page, feel free to check them out.]
Showing posts with label steven o'flynn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label steven o'flynn. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 19
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.
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.
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.
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.
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