Ze Darkness

I was dreading the winter weather this year, imagining lashing down rain every morning but I have to say that it's really not been that bad. There have only been a few mornings where I've had to bring the 'brolly. And stranger still, it has yet to dip below 40 degrees. I'm gonna be in for a serious shock when I visit Boston in February. The hardest thing about Irish winter is something I hadn't anticipated at all and that's the dark. During the shortest days - the sun doesn't even rise until 8:30am and it's pitch black again by 4:30pm. Thankfully, I've noticed that the sky is a lighter, brighter shade of blue in the mornings than it has been which gives me hope. I can't wait for Spring. I guess I'm in the mood for a new beginning. Although I've lived here nearly a year now, I really haven't settled in as much as I'd like. I've heard it said that it takes a year to really get comfortable in a place so I guess I'm looking forward to finding my stride here. Hopefully my next employment will be more well considered than my current one. I really made a balls of that one. The next time I'm about to make a really bad decision like that, can someone please talk me out of it!

On a good note, I'm going to join a casual softball team this spring and the cliquey North Dublin Ladies in my yoga class are actually starting to talk to me now that I've come back for a second semester. Assuming I find a job with less of a commute and more of a social atmosphere, maybe I'll even make a few friends of my own...Imagine that. ;)

I went to a leadership training this week that stressed how important it was to have a bit of craic at work...you know, banter, going out for a pint now and then, eating lunch with someone other than your computer, a bit of goofiness, a christmas party...whatever works. And it is so true. I realised that the jobs I've loved most all had great people and a somewhat social, positive atmosphere.

Well, Here's Hopin'. Please send out good vibes (or sumthin') that I won't become the chronically unemployed, broke as a joke, hermit in this town and that my luck is about to change...

On the Up and Up

I am full of blogging guilt...I've neglected my lonely wee blog for nearly 10 days now...whoops. Well, since I will be leaving my job in 8 days (but who's counting) I'll have lots of time to blog my little heart out (as long as blogging continues to be free cuz I'll be broke as a joke in no time ;) ) Am really looking forward to having a bit of down time and to be bidding farewell to my three hours of commuting every day. I'll miss my cheese and tomahhhhto toasties at the Black Bull on Fridays but when I'm lying in my bed on Feb 1st at 8:07am (instead of sitting on the commuter train) I don't think I'll mind at all.

Am still hoping to win Euro Millions so I can spend my days lying on the beach drinking Mojitos but barring that, I suppose I will have to either become freelancer extraordinaire or get myself another 9-5pm. sigh. I'm such an office bitch. Heard the other day that one has more likelihood of being in three plane crashes than winning said yoyo millions (and thankfully the probability of being in even one plane crash is quite low.) But a girl can dream right? Sugar Daddy where are you?! I simply must work on my tan (and I'm not talking tan-in-a-can here. ;) )

Spent the weekend in Belfast which was surpisingly relaxing. Ate pizza, went for a hike, helped Tom's mum make a veggie lasagna for her book club...Am I becoming too domesticated these days? Shit, I hope I'm not becoming more Desperate Housewives than Sex in the City. I'd rather be Miranda than Susan (who bears a frightening resemblance to Michael Jackson if you look closely) anyday. Well, nonetheless, I got my cook on this weekend (and my eat and drink on as well of course...)

On Saturday afternoon post-hike, Tom and I went into the city centre and finally, designed and ordered an engagement ring...nothing too fancy mind you and no diamonds (just can't get into those) but I think it will be lovely when it's ready....just have to wait four to six weeks. After exercising Tommy's Visa card, we decided to check out this new fancy-pants bar called The Vaudeville. The whole place is full on Art Nouveau...It's like Rennie MacIntosh Tearoom meets a whore's bedroom...lotsa curves, red and black chandeliers with lots of little lampshades, super high ceilings, mosaics, faux-marbles, floor to ceiling mirrors etc.. etc.. The whole effect is slightly tacky but kind of cool. And they have tasty passionfruit martinis to boot. yum.

So starts another week. I'm off to lie on my bed with the electric blanket on full blast reading the Sunday Times...mmmm. Hope you're all well and keepin' warm.

I'm yours

Was walking around city centre today on an errand to pick up a print project at a shop along the quays. It was spitting on me all morning - that light misty rain that just makes you feel damp and frizzy - but it was warmish and I had my ipod so I was enjoying being out and about.

Had some time to kill before the train to Drudgeda so I took myself shopping...well, window shopping anyway. The closest I came to a purchase was a red pleather studded belt that was the enticing price of four euros - but do I really need a red pleather studded belt?? Penney's (nearly) strikes again. While I do love my red, pink and white striped velour track bottoms purchased for six quid at Penneys, they don't always come out with stunning gems such as those... ;) (They're kind of hideous but I really do love them...pure cat in the hat.) At the moment, they have a (not so) charming line of baby tees out for spring that only someone under 14 yrs. old or over 300 pounds ever seem to be seen wearing. You know the kind I'm talking about...T-shirts with two strategically placed peaches, t-shirts that say, cutie pie or maneater, or what are you lookin' at? But today's gem was one that said, "I'm his because he appreciates perfection." Ironically, it seems that the further from perfection that a person actually is, the more likely they are to wear that t-shirt. Skanger - o - matic. Not to get all analytic on y'all but don't you think it's a bit odd that the phrase is I'm his? You would think that if one were in fact the picture of perfection (whatever that is) that you would be claiming this perfection appreciating man as belonging to you, not the other way round. Come lick my boots fecker. (I own you, you sad little worshipping, foot licking man who realises that I am in fact way out of your league but appreciates my flawlessness and therefore I will allow you to do all my cooking and cleaning for an occasional snog.)

I should probably be asking myself how my time came to be spent pondering the grammar of t-shirts purchased by illiterates. (You would have to be illiterate to wear some of these shirts, I'm telling you.) Maybe I should go back and buy the one that says 'Geek' or how 'bout, 'Desperately seeking social contact with people who don't smell.' I'm just sayin'.

It can't be good if you don't feel bad

Okay so people are known to overindulge come the holidays...too much Christmas Pudding...too much strong ale...or whatever else you choose to eat, drink or smoke come December, but apparently we are all supposed to pay for it come January. I know this is a somewhat universal phenomenon (at least in developed nations celebrating winter holidays) but it seems the debauchary and penance are on a whole other level in the olde country - at least in this olde country. The Christmas holidays are long (most people have about 7-10 days off) and Christmas is a BIG DEAL, followed by Boxing day which is just an excuse to keep Christmas going a little longer (not that I'm compaining about any of that.) Point being, that people really get into it...it being Christmas...as well as turkey, ham, stuffing. potatoes (roast, boiled, mashed - usually multiple tatty dishes at each meal), lager, wine (red, white, mulled...even a white zinfandel if yer lucky ;) ), Christmas Cake, Christmas Pudding, Christmas Trifle, Chocolate biscuits, even the occasional (or not so occasional) line of coke, handful of pills or other mind-altering bad boys if yer that way inclined. It is the time to indulge with a capital I. And if I thought the indulgences were extreme, the time to repent is just as intense. Every single billboard between the train station and home is telling me how to, "lose a jean size in two weeks" (just eat crunchy nut cornflakes twice a day - you might be toothless but at least you'll be skinny.) Last night, there were three different documentaries about food, the Detox Diet, Super Size Me and my favorite, a documentary about people who can't stop eating... The first thing I saw tonight when I got off the train was a sign announcing the debut of a book called, "The Family GI Index." Ah, just what every family needs...Honey I think your blood sugar is too high... And my favorite morning radio show read off a list of the top twelve worst toxins to ingest - with the number one baddy being "fizzy drinks," - phew at least there's one thing I don't drink (unless you count the all those jack and cokes I drank last week.)

So, Repent sinners, put down thy chicken leg...get yer fat ass on ye olde treadmill and commune with whole grains and flax seed oil. Catholic guilt is alive and well. I expect this to last about a week before that Guinness arm starts gettin' a wee bit twitchy and you just can't help but exercise - your right to party...up goes the pint, down goes the wallet...hee hee. Happy New Year Everybody. And put down that cookie. ;)

Spotted Dick (no custard)

Spotted_Dick
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

and Microwaveable too!

Spotted Dick with Custard

No, this is not some horrible venereal disease you learn about in sex ed. but is in fact, a (supposedly) desirable and tasty dessert. I was wandering the aisles of Asda (which I recently learned is owned by Walmart...booooooo to the evil empire of Sam) and I came across this unlovely sounding dessert in the freezer section. It looks like some kind of cakey thing with raisins (or should I say sultanas as they are known here.) I just started laughing out loud and until Tom came over to see what I was looking at, all the other people in the aisle probably thought I was off me rocker. But, really. Do you want to eat spotted dick??? Truth really is stranger than fiction.