No Title. Piss Off.

Why haven’t my friends text me? Like, ‘hope things are ok’. A message literally costs nothing to send. We all know that. Only one of my good friends has got the enthusiasm to actually visit me. And the financial means. Which totally doesn’t wash with me. It’s €22 on the bus. When I go to Dublin and suggest we go drinking, their all money for bottles and cans, but bus fare is beyond them?

Boy took 26 hours to text back to 2 enthusiastic messages sent to him. And it was a short reply. And I’m standoffish.

I’m so not in the humour to blog. Remind me to do it tomorrow

You Mean I Have To Come Out Again?!

Fuck indeed kids. These child bearing hips will have to stop hiding the GlitterGlue that wants to spill out of my mouth every time I speak, for good. The girls in work want a shot of sausage, so Steve and I are popping out for a night on the booze. But I can’t kissy no girls because their icky.

So I have to come out again to them, and watch it spread like a forest fire. Or risk potential vaginal intercourse. I know, right

But, the main news is that the cool kids have invited me out. for fun. and drinks. and Chinese food at 2AM. So does that mean I’m one of the gang?

I think so! Inside my head I’m doing a little dance resembling a combination of the Macarena and the HoDown Throwdown. (Google it)

I’m very excited about it. A little too excited, it’s like the only thing on my mind right now, as it happens! I will definitely consume a bottle of my local supermarkets’ finest, cheapest white wine before things kick off!

I’m  workin’ 9 to 5 tomorrow, and I swear the temptation to put rice into tights (or panty ho’s to you Americans – Thank you Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman for teaching me the term) to give myself big fake boobies, throw on a cheap blonde wig (aka Miley Steward to Hannah Montanna) and roll into work at 9 warbling like Dolly is unreal. Might even save on the coming out thing. Who knows?

I’m getting my Dell Inspiron 1501 fixed. The fan and hinges on it are fucked, but I found a man in the phonebook, rang him for quotes and got a written on emailed to me for €70. If you recall, the hinges looked like this, with the lid closed:

So yes, I’m thinking, use the old flatscreen, stick it on my desk, plug in a USB mouse,keyboard, throw speakers in there too and have it as a standing computer with my 320GB USB hard drive thrown into the mix too? Marvellous. I’ll use it at my desk, and keep the laptop downstairs.

The Police are flavour of the week. Force yourself to listen to one or two tracks, neither of which being Roxanne, and you’ll like them again too.

Things with not boyfriend are good. I went to his, we talked, I called him the wrong name when we were in bed. You know yourself…

But seriously, he makes me happy, and he’s really funny. I just hope this doesn’t come crumbling down like a set of cardboard stairs in a house fire.

Like when I’m not there, I’m all like “ooh, where’s this going??” but when we see each other, it just works. I don’t know. It just makes sense.

Isn’t it funny, that despite the fact that I’ve no desire to hook up with anyone now, I messaged this fella weeks ago on Squirt and he never got back to me. Until I put a picture of my willy up, showing it to be longer and wider than a can of right guard. And now he messages me, with his number. Not a reply, but a new message.

What a cunt.

I’m pretty happy anyway, so I’m going to end it here. I’m in work in 8 hours. So I’ll see what tomorrow brings ;)

Only A Northern Song

Jesus Christ on a bicycle it’s been an eventful week.

So I went back to Dublin on Tuesday evening, and had a fight with the parents. It had been too long. I shrugged it off as a welcome home! Then I went to meet sexy footballer straight boy thing. And he told me that he’d '”never felt this was about another bloke” which simultaneously killed my erection slightly and make me think “oh fuck. shit mother of fucks. what the fuck do I do”. So I kept my cool, and said “it’s not love, it’s lust. believe me, you’re not in love with me.”.

How did he prove his love for me?

By Swallowing. Classy stuff, right?

He’s flicking through wedding magazines beside me right now, trying to pick a table layout for the reception. Who said love was easy?

 

And on to the my week. Right, so that was Tuesday. Wednesday was spent studying for my repeats, getting help off Jack, and planning the fill my parents house with booze and good friends without them knowing. It went off a smashing success. Much vodka, cider and Chinese food was consumed, and the house smelt like hormones all the next day. Wonderful.

Then Thursday, more studying, and out to meet the not boyfriend. Late, as per usual, we got the tram to his new house. Pokey as fuck, small, dingy, not a happy place. Anyway, he proceeded to offer me cake. I ate said cake and seemingly lost 9 hours of my life. I think there might have been something funny in it. It was so funny, and himself and I spend like loads of time together. He kissed me in front of his friends, which I think is a kind of important step? I could be wrong, I don’t really know. Anyway, I woke up at midday Friday, went home and finished a project!

Then Friday night, I knew I was getting up early to go back north on Saturday, but I went anyway, and like, met some people there, had a good night, and got home at a reasonable hour. The Saturday was eventless, apart from a talk with mammy, and I just explained what’s going on with me, and she said she didn’t know about all the things I was dealing with and she’d try be more supportive!

Oh, I tried to MSN Jack, but I just keep getting an error message, so I’ll blog it instead. I mentioned to my mother that a straight guy I met in February, whose 26 , and is recently widowed just so happens to be coming to Ireland. She offered him the house I’m in right now, the north house. I mentioned that he was going west, and she was very enthusiastic about me going with him, and showing him around.

Then I mentioned that I’d need a helmet for the motorbike. And she hit the roof. “It’s a step lower than drugs. If you get on the bike, you can find a different place to live”. I nearly laughed at the drugs thing, by the way.

So like, I don’t know. She’s spooked about a man on a bike, who has just learnt to drive it, on the left hand side of the road, on twisty little country roads, compared to the great roads of the European Mainland. So it’ll have to be hammered out. But everything is negotiable. And I have money, a passport and a brain. So I can disappear if needs.

Remind me to blog about the unionist in work that hates me. Later though, this post is too long already!

Garden

I’ve been working on my garden since the start of June and now It’s nearly finished!

 

 

And After!

 

 

Grass has still to go down, but that can’t be done until September!

Magnetic North

July 12th is like, the hot shit in Northern Ireland. It’s all to do with the Battle of the Boyne!

I'm going to put on Jeans and explain it to ye now :)

Now, as ye all know, the UK occupies the north of Ireland. It’s part of British rule, and the rest is the Irish Free State. Before that, however, The UK rules all of Ireland, as a result of the Battle of the Boyne.

King Billy and King James fought at the River Boyne, and the English one (I’m not sure which is which) won. And that victory started the UK rule in Ireland.

So July 12th is the day the Unionists, those who want British Rule in Ireland, celebrate the victory at the battle of the Boyne. There’s marches, and bonfires and a public holiday.

Which means that the hotel I’m working in will be out the fucking door with people off for the 3 day weekend. I couldn’t give a shite about who won what!

I believe that northern Ireland is better. I think that the people up here are so much more adaptable, and it seems that they appreciate what they’ve got. It feels like Switzerland (I was there in 2005). I’ve been accepted up here, and I haven’t had one problem.

The honeymoon period has well and truly worn off, and I still love it. It just seems to be a happier place. All I need is friends and a car and thing would be perfect. I could see myself living here full time.

And I never thought it possible! I love Dublin, but it’s got such an air of action not yet taken about it. Like the north is over all it’s action, being the paramilitary's, and the troubles that scarred the people. Now all everyone wants to do is live full lives and have fun. In Dublin, nothing real has happened. Not since 1916 anyway.

The Perverted Teenager

So I’m now old. And mean. But I am not a pervert!

Today, Tuesday, I’ve a day off work. I went and saw my cousins, went to the town, got a few things, and came home, to my big end house.

This house is empty most of the year, it’s our second home, a holiday house. Easter, Christmas, Summer, it gets used for a brief period. Apart from that, it just lies empty.

So naturally the local kids, the residents of this particular estate know that if they play in my big corner house garden, their not going to be disturbed. But now that I’m living here, things have changed.

Today, a girl, no older than 6 knocked on my front door, and asked if they could play in my back garden please.

I said no. For fear of a child going home and proudly saying ‘that man in the end house let us play in his garden’. I’d then have to deal with angry parents calling me a pervert. It just didn’t seem worth the risk to me then.

Imagine yourself as a parent hearing that a person you don’t know let your kids into his garden to play. If it were my kids, I’d have such a problem with it.

Does that make me the enemy, the mean old man? I think so.

But I’d rather the kids hate me, than their parents.

I Kiss Boys. Fuck You Katy Perry

Katy Perry was spot on, however. Up and down says it all really. Seems to be the theme of my life. Borders, ‘Boyfriends’, Wages. Fuck me sideways it’s been 7 days since my last post.

I wouldn’t ride him into battle is my new favourite put down. I just need an excuse to use it like.

And the lesbian and gay contact has ruined my ability to interact with straight girls. I have to stop accidentally flirting with the straight waitresses. But I’m just talking to them, like I’d be with the girls back home who know I’m a homo. I’m just close.

Oh, and I came out. Again. Fuck sake like, how many times does a gay come out in him/her lifetime? I' did it again at a house party there on Thursday night, to one of the girls in Ventures. She was like, genuinely shocked, but it was nice, because she was so cool about it.

I just worked a fifteen hour day. And I’m only getting €70 for it. Someone pass the lemons, I’m feeling bitter.

The noisettes album is actually rocking my socks right now like. It’s sheer awesome. It’s like No Doubt, mixed with Cyndi Lauper, mixed with The White Stripes. And a bit My Winehousey as well. It’s a flavour of the week, despite the song “Don’t upset the rhythm” Makes me want to tear my ears off and fuck them in a blender.

Don’t forget, I do have MSN! vodkaandcrackers@hotmail.com