And so the Christmas season is upon us again. Ah the lights, the smells the good will. I absolutely love it. Today Christmas officially began for me. The Coke cola ad was on this morning as I was leaving the house. You know the one. Hhhholidays are comin’, hhholidays are comin’ FA LA LA LA LA L A LA LA LA etc. Soon my favourite day in the run up will be here. THE DAY OF THE PUTTING UP OF THE TREE. For years it was my job to pick out the tree. I would spend hours browsing forcing daddy or mammy to drive the streets of Dublin until I found the perfect tree. Alas in the last year I have given up because my perfect tree cannot be found. They only have those stupid ones that are bald on the top and fat at the bottom with horizontal branches. I like an evenly spaced tree with  a consistent tapered slope and fake is the only way that my tree OCD can be eased so I don’t end up spinning it around in it’s stand with a handful of tinsel sobbing “you can see trunk, you caaaan see trruuunk” My other favourite day is the DAY OF THE WRAPPING OF THE PRESENTS. This is usually done while drinking and without the use of gift cards. I find this makes it much more interesting as you try and remember what shape gift you got who? It’s like giving yourself a present as you can get as much of a surprise when it’s unwrapped.

The only problem is, as much as I love Christmas and all that comes with it, it also has one of my least favourite days. The day of the buying of the presents. See it’s not so much the shopping part. I like shopping. I just don’t like the volume of other people doing it. Seriously why can’t they all internet shop like normal people and leave me alone to browse and ooh and aah at all the lovely Christmassy things. It is impossible to walk through a shop without having to touch people as you do it. I’m not like a weirdo or anything. I just don’t like people TOUCHING ME. Personal space people, personal space!!!!! Then there’s all the kids with their sticky fingers and screaming and running. The shop is usually upside down and things all over the place and then there is the queues. Do NOT get me started on the queues. I am not the most patient of people as anyone who as seen me at an ATM machine shouting “faster FASTER I SAID” will attest to but some places are a joke. Those people in front of you in a queue who then get to the top and start asking stupid questions. “Do you have this in another colour in stock, can you go get it” “Does this need batteries, Can you go get me some?” “Do  you think this is something a 15 year old would want,  could you go get me something better”  There should be 2 types of check outs. 1 for people who go into a shop find what they want and buy it at the counter and one for fucking muppets who do not realize there are people waiting in line who have actually picked out something they want and have brought it to the till to actually purchase it. Not discuss whether it’s age appropriate or to have the people behind the till act like their own personal shoppers. I have better things to do with my time like go into another shop and hug the wall/dive into a rail to avoid brushing up against a total stranger who will then turn around and wallop you with their massive bags of heavy pointy things. Seriously do they buy cube shaped cannonballs because I have bruises that will prove it? The whole experience makes me twitchy and majorly saps my Christmas spirit.

Although the boyfriend has come up with a clever ploy to avoid all of this hassle. Simply pick a shop with no queue. A couple of Christmases ago he found himself on Christmas Eve with no presents. So he trekked into town took one look at the hoards of manic people and thought “ What will I do?” So while pondering his dilemma he strolled past a shop that was happily quite. In he went bought all of his Christmas shopping in about 15 minutes and was home in time for Charlie and the Chocolate factory. So imagine my surprise when on Christmas day I opened my present and it’s some furry handcuffs and underwear and other things of an adult nature. His other friend (also my friend) got a sex book and a police womans outfit. His cousin got some massage oils and a whip. His mam chocolate willys, his dad a musical thong and his brother, porn. Yes although the queues where not an issue somehow I think Ann Summers may not be an appropriate store to buy all of your Christmas presents for friends and family. Think about it. You can’t return any of that. Even with a receipt!

Ok so I have mentioned in the past my crazy dog and equally crazed daddy, but up until today I was blissfully unaware of the guerilla warfare campaign that they waged against each other while I was absent from the house.

Seriously I wish I was making this stuff up.

When daddy and doggy were first introduced they where not as friendly as they are now. In the beginning daddy would try hard to get along with doggie but doggie was having none of it. She was not a bitch, she was THE bitch and it was Miss Bitch to him. When I was not around daddy would try and fail to get her to do the simplest things like move or simply notice him. This became a problem as she is a little dog with a little bladder and can’t hold things in the whole day I’m at work. Daddy would try to call her, lift her, coax her but nothing would work. She simply ignored him and stayed in her own doggie world and peed when the need took her.

So daddy stepped up the tactics. The first one wasn’t that successful. It involved a golf umbrella. While she was on the chair he brought in said golf umbrella and proceeded to rapidly open and close it at her. This startled her but basically it just meant that he spent 10 minutes running around the sitting room flapping an umbrella at a dog (think Sean Connery in The Last Crusade) who was jumping from chair to chair over the table and under the furniture and generally making a mess.

So daddy went back to the drawing board. This time he watched his target. Looking for weaknesses to exploit. He knew that she would never leave the room if he was still there. Likewise she would not go wandering around the house unless she was sure he was upstairs out of the way. A plan formed.

He waited for the opportune moment. Before doggie came downstairs at 12pm (as was her habit) daddy took a length of clear plastic string and tied it to the door handle of the sitting room. After a while of her staring him down he got up and went out to the kitchen and poured some food into her bowl loud enough for her to hear. He went back to the sitting room and looked in. She had taken the bait. Ears were alert, head was cocked. She wanted that food but would never go for it if he was in the way. So daddy quietly picked up the other end of the string and made a big production of walking upstairs. He waited for his moment. Sure enough as soon as he reached the top he heard her claws on the floor and saw her creep out the door as soon as she was out enough he yanked the string cutting of her retreat, then pounded back down the stairs leaving the kitchen as her only escape. He chased and shut the kitchen door behind him. The only option open to her now. THE BACK GARDEN. Success she was out, she did her business. daddy had managed to outwit a terrier (it’s quite a feat they are very intelligent)

But it didn’t  end there. Oh no, doggie obviously took serious offence to being tricked so she launched her counter attack. Not quite so sophisticated in its exacution but still effective. It basically involved her holding in a little something till about 3 in the morning. She would then poop in strategically placed points around the room. For example the side of the bed he got out of in the morning. Or at the window. Basically places he would stand without looking first. Occasionally she would even go so far as to do the deed then bark so as to wake daddy up to see what the fuss was about and, well, he put his foot in it. This was quite bold of her I think. She did it so she could see the look on his face and he would know it was her. ( well I would hope he knew it was her cause it sure as hell wasn’t me)

all of this I found out today sitting on the sofa watching daddy and doggie cuddle in his chair. They have had their differences but  in their campaign of terror they found something else. Respect. They were Nemesis but now have agreed that are equals and a ceasefire has been called. The world is at ease, I can sleep now knowing I will not wake up to shouting and cursing at 4 in the morning. I no longer have to come home to a house that while tidy looks ever so slightly ascue. But most of, most of all I don’t have to clean up poop!

Ben got kicked out of the ‘prentice last night. 2-3 weeks ago I would of done a last dance in my living room when it happened, but now over the last 2 weeks or so he’s become more bearable, almost human like. Which kinda makes me hate him more cause I don’t want to like someone who threatens to “bite my teeth out”  or goes around like a knob making little camera frames out of his hands but somehow I didn’t want to rip  my own skin of watching him last night. Istead I now focus all my anger on that bumhole shaped mouth, giant sqauare faced wagon that is Deborah. Come on Sralan. Kick that bitch to the curb! For God sake she was around children on the last task. She probably ate at least one of them. The public arn’t safe I tells ya

Ahhh, watching big men in tight shorts and t-shirts. Is there anything better? Now most of the time I don’t give a crap about sport, unless it’s the Eurovision (say what you like but if you’ve watched it in my house then you know it’s a sport)
I tend to jump on the bandwagon with sport. If we win I like it. Also I take after my Dad in the sence that it’s all good “as long as we beat the Brits”
So on Saturday I ventured into town to watch the match. To be fair to myself I have seen every other game and have a fair idea of how rugby is played (the pointy ball no longer confuses me) Me and a mate met up in a Bar in town and eventually managed to settle into a corner. We had no option but to drink pitchers of Bulmers as getting a pint would of been stupid cause you would of had the thing drank by the time you managed to get back from the bar. Unfortuntely if I have a drink I tend to drink it quite fast, this includes everything from tea to fizz. Everyone who knows me will agree. So even with my giant pitcher of cider, it still only took me about the same time to finish as it would a pint.
This meant I got very merry very quickly. The group of boys next to us took us in. They ranged from dirty old man to jailbait. They all seemed to like us equal amounts. We stood there gripping on to one another with the excitment “Go on Ireland, Wales are just empty crips packet blowing in the wind” seemed to be the chant of the day.
Half time we emptyed out into to cold evening air for a cigarette (I was drinking it doesn’t count) The jailbait boys followed us. We talked and laughed with each other, the doormen, random people walking by. I might of held a conversation with the lamppost I’m not sure but the point is we where happy.      

We regrouped back upstairs for the climax. I found myself getting caught up in the whole thing. The blood lust was starting to take hold. “Kill them, KILL THEM FOR F*CK SAKE” I found my self screaming. When Wales took the lead in the final minutes I nearly passed out and I’m pretty sure my friend still has my fingernail marks in her arm. As Ronan O’ Gara took his kick I willed him and the big country head on him to just make it, make it please. The place erupted with shouts of joy as the ball sailed between the posts. The place was electric. We only had to hold on for just over a minute and we had it in the bag. It all came down to the final kick by Wales. The whole place was silent as the ball went up. You could feel it building up in the crowd the tension was expanding at such a massive rate there was going to be an explotion. Time seemed to stand still. Everyone was holding one to everyone. The ball started to fall. It was too far. It wasn’t going to make the post. It touched ground just short of the posts.

It was like the whole bar had one big collective orgasm. Complete madness. It’s how I imagine a Roman orgy was. People where just grabbing strangers and kissing them. Grown men where crying. People where taking of their tops ans swinging them around there heads. I was picked up and put on one of the jail baits shoulders (and yet did not spill a drop of my drink which frankly I think was just as impressive as us winning) We sang, we screamed, we laughed. I can’t remember the last time I was out and about and everyone you met just wanted to have a laugh and a chat and a good time. It was the best day ever and one that I will remember for a long time.

Well kinda, my friend told me what happened. I had like 6 pitchers and can’t remember a bloody thing, but from the pictures and bruises I now have I certainly seemed to enjoy it.

ps I would like to issue the boyfriend with a public apology. For still being in town drinking when he got to my house at 4am. For making him come collect me. For talking absolute bollix for about an hour.For making him have to remove my shoes and getting me water cause I had the spinnies then falling asleep and attempting to smother him with my arm while in a drunken coma. And all after he had been working and missed the game and he’s the one who actually watches it for the love of the game not the men in shorts.

Ok it has come to my attention that my last post was a little serious and dramtic, to lighten the mood here are my favorite funny moment from hospital ever.

no.5 The skangers from last night who sent their mate out to get a Mc Donalds then started complaining about the other patients being too sick and asked could he be moved to a more young and lively area.

no4. The guy from the last time I was in hospital who was at his 21st and managed to “sit” on a bottle but magically not rip or tear his pants or even get blood on them.

no3 The crazy German lady from the time my brother had his jaw broken. She kept getting out of bed and calling the nurses bad names in english then telling them that she couldn’t speak it.

no2. When my mam did the I like to move it move it dance from Madacasger. Also the same day where she said giving birth to me was like pushing out a baby elephant with a really big head.

no2 the look on my boyfriend’s at the times face when he was told I had been sent down for an ultrasound (it was for my liver not womb but I didn’t tell him that.)

no1 This is only funny for other people not me I’m still traumatised. The time when I was first admitted to hospital with the betes and the stupid doctor measured my head in front of a load of hot medical students. Then said my hands were very large, almost goalie like in proportion.

It’s hard to be positive these days, especially when everything you hear is bad news and the forecast is that it’s only going to get worse. You can easily start to lose faith in people and goodness.

But then something might happen that changes your outlook. A random act of kindness or generosity. This happened to me today.

My boyfriend is, well a boy and into boy things like sports. This involves both watching and participating. After playing a well earned victory today against some tough opponents in a GAA match he hit the showers said well done to the other team then headed back to the car where normally he tosses his gear bag in the back and I nearly asphyxiate from the stink of sweaty boy shorts.

But today was different, there was no excited “Did you see me? Did you see me?” Instead there was heavy breathing and eyes that weren’t focusing. He said he was just tired after all the running. His breathing got worse. He said he was fine. He stepped out of the car. He said he needed some air. He fell on the ground and he said nothing. I called an ambulance.

I didn’t know what else to do. I was too weak to lift him and I couldn’t drive him anywhere anyway. I was scared. I was very scared and didn’t know what to do. Then the last 2 cars that were leaving the game pulled up beside us, they asked had I called an ambulance I said yes. They said call them back, say that we’re driving him to the hospital instead it will be quicker. They lifted him up to put him in the back seat. A man called Noel drove the car to the hospital. This man was the most calming influence I could of had. My boyfriend looked and sounded like he was dying. He was transparent, his was barely getting in a breath and his eyes where rolling back in his head and he was so so cold. In any other circumstance I would have been hitting the ceiling, but this man just sat calmly driving and gently saying every so often soothing things, normal things. That for some strange reason seemed to bring me back to planet earth and help me focus on trying to help my boyfriend in the back seat. His two friends followed behind in another car and as we pulled into A&E they raced ahead inside to get someone outside to help him. They parked his car. They stayed with me while he was being examined. They got me tea. They asked was there anyone they could call. They did everything they could do for two complete strangers who they had no obligation to. They could driven by and not stopped to help. They could of just left when we got to the hospital, they could of just stayed till an ambulance came but they did much more than I could of asked. After he had be looked at they left but only after taking my number and making me promise to let them know later on how he was doing.

Everyone is suspicious these days. Wondering if someone is offering to help just because they can get something out of it. Most people keep their heads down not wanting to get involved in something that doesn’t concern them. But there are good people out there, people that see someone in need and do all they can to help just because it’s the right thing to do. I want to be one of these people. The smallest things can make the biggest difference. Just asking someone do they need help can save the day. My eternal thanks to Noel, Tracy and Fats for being my angels.

Ps. He’s fine now. He had a chest x-ray and ECG and oxygen and after some observation they let him go home.

So lent  is upon us again and as usaul I quit smoking. For the next 40 days and nights I will no longer be friends with Mr Nick O’Teen. But is this really a good thing?

I know all the health reasons blah blah blah every cigarette is doing you damage but what about the poeple around me? Are they really better of with me as a non smoker?

For example last year round about day 3 I came home from work, attempted to butter a slice of bread, which ripped in the middle cause the butter was too hard, so I then thought it was a good idea to have a complete micky fit and  throw the whole sliced pan at my dad’s head. (he did not take it well) But think, what if that had of been a knife? What if he was allegic to gluten? I could of killed my own father for my own selfish health reasons. My friends are quite wary of me at this time too, One of my oldest friends flat out refuses to be anywhere near me after what is now refered to as the “incident”

I’m not a very scary person. In fact I’m a big wuss and very non confrontational or at least I am with the nicotine holding me back. But as it is I’m this close to bringing a shotgun to work an mowing the lot of them down. I fear that ciggarettes are the last line of defence between me and complete pyhcoticness.

So maybe this year I won’t be selfish and quit. I will protect my family and work coleuges. Well maybe just my family………………. smoking is illegal in the work place after all.

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