Secret Fire Revisited
While I write this, there is somebody learning to juggle, and there is somebody learning to play piano. They are of course seperate people. I am the fly on their garden fences, that strangelady nosy neighbour. Enjoy!!! Tomorrow I may even be videoing paint drying.
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For any straggler readers that may have read my old post ‘The Secret Fire’, for which I was very happy to win a pretty shiny thing last year and a phone which I still do abuse and adore, there is a nopportunity for you to enjoy a Deja Vu for your very own self. If you can’t make it, don’t waste brainage with wasted excuses this time, for these people do seem to appear every year, at much the same time. Without fail, they are a true constant. I’m sure you may make it some day in your own way. I’m here just to remind you.
It’s in Wicklow, in the Parish Church on Church Hill, where two into one cars will not divide. It is Vivaldi with his Four Seasons in Summer mode. It is also J.S. Bach with his Suite in B Minor for Flute and Orchestra, it is Paganini with his heartbreaking Moses Variations and it is Tchaikovski remembering I.W. Samarin.
If you DO make it Wicklow Townward this year at eight bells on August 9th, you’ll find me at the back. I’ll be the one with the kid and the baby and the boy in the wheelchair that gleans strange amusements from stringy vibrations. I have a noisy bunch, for that I apologise in advance, but I just had to be there. You understand! I hope the locals will too. Eep.
I.B.A Happy Bunny
I never did thank you for nominating this mess for an Irish Blog Award, did I? Considering its content is a bit on the confused side and reflects the fact that the author has no idea whether she’s coming or going, and the sidebar doesn’t really seem to know what it’s doing, and the blogroll’s a complete mess, it was seriously sweet of you to see past that and give it an aul’ vote .
Then me aul’ one points out to me that it’s made it to the Personal Blog shortlist, too! This means that some poor sap(s) have had to wade through these pages when they most likely had something much better to be getting on with at the time, and gave it their thumbs up despite its misgivings. That was seriously sweet too.
Shucks.
Thanks lads :)
If the due-date for this kid wasn’t so close, and if the lengthy journey to Galway didn’t pose a threat for serious arse-cramps, I would be there with bells on. Instead though, I’ll be stalking the event via live blogging and (sigh) Twitter from a safe distance and crossing my oedema’d fingers for the rest of yiz.
Fair play to Microsoft Ireland’s Developer and Platform Group for sponsoring the category!
April's Dog's Bollocks
Dammit I’ve been meaning to do this for ages… poor Thrifty needed adequate mourning time though in all fairness.
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April’s Dog’s Bollocks Award goes to a lady who posts stuff extraordinary all the time but I keep forgetting. Her’s is one of those blogs that I find through linky-love and remember, but never remember to link to, so she’s my ‘happy surprise’ blog. Does that make any sense?
Not any more. Linked officially from here on in.
Voodoolady is the Dog’s Bollocks of the moment because of posts like these:
- ‘Cause he’s fuckin good lookin’ for a knacker
- I’m behind you!! (because I can really identify with this post)
- Voodoolady is updating her status now.
That blog is what this blog should be. I want to post every day, about stuff that annoys me or fickles my tancy, the every-day normal people stuff that gives blogging its humanity. I’d love to not give a shit, but sometimes when that happens, the paranoia overloads and I hate that feeling. To be honest, this blogging lark freaks me out a bit… the worst moment is trying to watch a film shortly after posting a weird blog post. It’s hard to concentrate when you feel like a muppet.
In the words of Voodoolady herself,
“I need to grow a pair.”
How to win sex-toys and influence people
So my prize arrived in the post yesterday morning!! The postman raised an eyebrow as I signed for it and I knew right then and there that he had ESP. The Accidental Terrorist’s eyebrow raised even higher as I unclothed its packaging and since then, well… he’s getting a great buzz out of it let’s just say.
What? Oh yeah!!!
I WON!!!
(Just in time for the honeymoon, too, heheh)
Jealous? So you should be. Have a shot at it, you know you want to!
Also you should have a visit of www.sex-toys.ie… if not at least just to find out what a finger flipper is?! I accidentally left the browser open one day while carefully choosing my prize… TAT’s friend and a few visiting plumbers from the County Council copped an eyeful and gave me some seriously strange looks when I returned from the shop, especially when I offered them a cup of the hot stuff… ah well. It’s not like my reputation wasn’t shot to hell already.
This is the winning post in which I confess things I probably shouldn’t have, but am mighty glad I did now, I tells ya:
Long live on-line filth!
The Irish Blog Awards '09 and some more dead braincells
I fell in love on Saturday night at the Irish Blog Awards. When his big brown eyes locked gazes with mine… I almost dropped my cocktail. It would have been improper to approach him though, for he had important work to do but happily, later on in the night, he approached me! Or rather his owner did. Digital Darragh, you have the most beautiful Labrador in the world and it was wonderful meeting you both. I would’ve loved to speak to you and Emma a bit longer, but there’s always next year.
I got to play mindgames with Tinman18 at the start of the evening. How do you recognise somebody in person from their writing style? It’s not easy, unless you have their mobile number and you know you’re both in the same room. All you need to do is to some kinky texting, and watch out for the giggling bloke. Thumbs up. What a sound character! Thanks for the juice, dude.
I stuck by Robert Sweetnam for a good while, completely addicted to his Corkish accent, but I’m totally at a loss trying to remember what it was exactly that we spoke about. That’s a sign of a good night. I robbed this photo while he wasn’t looking:
Point of note… that’s the Accidental Terrorist second from the left. He is responsible for Rick O’Shea’s beard, though it’s a little known fact. There’s nothing like a bit of fuzz to boost a man’s sex appeal, I was beside myself from hugging them both on the night, I’ll never wash these cheeks again.
I also got to see a bride on a bouncy twister castle. I’ve scrapped the wedding plans and have re-arranged them from scratch. I am that inspired.
This bobbing bride is Ciara Crossan of Wedding Dates.ie, I got so much great advice from herself and Ellybabes, the support bowled me over. A definite highlight of the evening was Elly’s surprise gift… a handmade choker (something new!) to go with my wedding dress… it’s beautiful, I couldn’t believe she made it just for me. Thank you so much again, Ellybabes.
Here’s a rather nice shot of Darren Byrne’s arse…
…and a photograph of some people blatantly ignoring the rules of bouncy twister:
And a shot of Grandad delivering the punchline to what was probably a filthy joke to Robert Sweetnam:
The rest of the photos are somewhat blurry as my demeanor got more and more hazy throughout the night, but I do remember swaying to Bock the Robber’s theories for a better world through a haze of Jack Daniels and laughy tears, and being poked fervently by Darragh Doyle, not for the first time either I might add. The following is his Wossy/Brand YouTube pisstake made with Maxi Cane… it was an honour to have my reputation so blatantly flaunted like that baby yeah!!!
The night was brilliant, thanks to Damien Mulley and his crew… I was bowled over with my award for best post (Thanks to KRO IT Solutions for sponsoring!), but even more so by the well wishings I got from people, it was an atmosphere dense with serial friendliness. Although I got to meet some of my favourite leg-ends… John Braine, Elfinamsterdam, Nick, Lottie, HairyBen (gorgeous he is) and Willknott (thanks for the badge, dude!) and Grannymar, I was gutted to have missed out on meeting some other fine heads I heard were there.
I honestly have to say I was equally gutted to find Xbox4NappyRash, the Sexy Pedestrian and Manuel so cruelly robbed of their trophies, for I was rooting for them something rotten, but blogging is a fickle thing and I know their time will undoubtedly come again.
Mostly I want to thank everyone for nominating The Secret Fire… the world seems dominated by paranoia and negativity, for they are the things that catch the headlines. To have so many people recognise the goodness in the little things, the fleeting beauty that can be found in the strangest of places… it’s wonderful to see. I hope, if anything, it gave people the ability to open their eyes and search for these tiny things, these small redeemers of humanity, for they are everywhere if you look hard enough. Blogging is a powerful tool… use it for the greater good. Follow in the good footsteps of Maman Poulet… we all have a voice.
Don't break my child
Today I be mostly writing up an instruction manual for Laughingboy for the babysitters while I’m away at the Blog Awards.
So far there are thirty two pages.
Who says kids don’t come with manuals?!?! Mine does, and it’s a pain in the ass trying to remember how he works. It’s like trying to describe how to operate a stick-shift.
After all, our babysitters are both male… one is a DHL delivery man, the other is a chef. They have never looked after my kids before, nor do they know what they’re getting themselves into. I think they’re planning a party while we’re away…. heheh… good luck, lads.
February's Dog's Bollocks
This month’s Dog’s Bollocks award goes to the man who came up with the following statements:
My inner caveman desires wide open spaces to hunt, not fucking Tesco whispering ‘Every little helps’ in my shell-like while getting busy Shawshank Redemption style on my butt.
and…
Yes, I am pissed again, but this time I am cross too. Cross at the little scumbags that fecked a bottle at me from the bus as it went past when I was walking home. Missed me. Fuckers. Hope your knobs fall off.
and…
“I like to think of it in terms of a society having a goal, this helps define individual purpose. If a society has a common goal, as can be brought about by a disaster or crisis, people pull together and have a purpose, they have the freedom to act to make their world better. In the case of negative freedom, it become random and base. People revert to their fundamental nature, consuming and rutting and fighting, with or without a thin veneer of civilisation”
Right on, brother.
Thrift Criminal, you’re a great buzz, your posts are clever and with a unique sort of humour… please don’t bugger off in March and have us fend for ourselves!! I don’t know what I’d do without your smartarse comments in my inbox.
We’ll miss you something rotten. You’re the Dog’s Bollocks mate.
January's Dog's Bollocks
I’m going to try and keep this short and sweet, but you must understand that there’s a lot of passion being supressed. This post could go on ’till next Autumn for all the potential content involved, but time’s short and the Chinese is on its way, fair play to him.
January’s Dog’s Bollocks award goes to Mr. Rick O’Shea.
Rick’s radio show has been my touchstone for humanity for the longest time. He saw me through freezing weather in my forlorn days of window cleaning… his banter kept my soul nice and toasty. It also broke the ice somewhat given my situation – a bunch of belligerent blokes with a female driver, my territory here (you understand) was somewhat ‘spurious, but Rick levelled us to the same domain with perfection.
Then came my taxi driving boredom. From hackney to cabbie, the lost hours… those spent biting nails and scanning newspapers, waiting desperately for someone to fancy the thought of being driven anywhere… somewhere… the suspense of the next fare was healed by Rick O’Shea and his inane questions – questions that levelled Ireland to the same base instincts, the same issues, the same mistakes. I felt so at home, so entertained… I actually cursed fares that interrupted my concentration on Rick’s show between 2pm and 5pm.
Now it’s gone.
This is the facebook protest if you’re into that sort of thing. (I hope the link works!)
2fm have seen it fit to call a halt to chat radio. They seem to think that they’re the only radio station playing pop music, that they have the edge on popular radio, but the sad thing is (from my point of view), is that the only thing they have going for them is Rick, and Nikki Hayes, the popculture guru that can be heard before Rick’s slot. These are the shows that determine real entertainment, something worth listening to. They call out to the general public, they hand the day’s subject matter to us, to you and me, and in my opinion it’s genius.
“What’s the last thing you tore up?”
“When’s the last time you told someone you loved them?”
“What’s the most embarrasing thing you’ve ever done?”
It’s the closest thing to a radio blog… inviting the public to create an atmosphere that nobody else can match… it grounds us all and lets us know that we’re not alone, that we’re all human underneath. I miss it so.
Rick’s slot is not gone yet, but his show is now lacklustre. He has no more questions, he plays music that everyone else plays, his voice carries dampened undertones as though his baby has left home for good. I hope he doesn’t mind me saying this, but his show (since he returned from New York) has joined the ranks of banality and I sense that this isn’t his fault. He’s been shot down.
Why?
Fuck knows.
Cut Gerry (perve) Ryan’s salary, bring back Rick. Oh ok, I love Gerry too, but seriously… he’s not worth that much. Ray D’Arcy fills my slot far more adequately most of the morning time, so to speak.
Long live Rick O’Shea, he is indeed the Dog’s Bollocks.
Goodbye 2fm, you’ve lost a listener.
The birth of the Dog's Bollocks award
Have you ever had somebody remind you of something you’d long forgotten about, asking you about a specific detail that escapes you and annoys the hell out of you for hours afterwards?
For example: What was the name of the giants that lived above the hill in ‘Fraggle Rock’?
It happened to me this morning, and it must be fixed or I’ll go insane.
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This month’s Dog’s Bollox is Grandad, as you’ll see from my last post. He wrote his acceptance speech this morning, asking me who the previous winners were, so I listed off his four predecessors, starting with Jennifer Farley over at Laughing Lion designs.
Jennifer was first to comment, claiming that she wasn’t aware of such a thing! Horrified, I frantically began searching ‘Dog’s bollocks, photoshop guru, Farley, award… etc’, then gave up and began to trawl through my entire blog looking for the mention.
(It was in the re-reading of the content of this blog that I realised how inane the posts are – what a wakeup call! Cringeworthy stuff indeed! Oh well.)
Then it clicked.
Back in July this year, I’d decided that my blogroll was too long, that it needed categories to break it up a bit. So, I invented some idiotic temporary categories that sort of… stuck. One of these was the category ‘Dog’s Bollocks of the month’.
This category was originally designed to show my favourite blog of the moment, it wasn’t an award at all, just a link meant to stick out a bit. The first name to appear there was Laughing Lion Designs, a website I trawl around regularly for Photoshop ideas. It’s class, very user friendly and extremely educational if you’re into that sort of thing. Therefore Jennifer Farley and her associated blog is the founding mother of the Dog’s Bollocks award… but she only found out today!
When the next month arrived, I replaced her name with Kirk M’s, at Just Thinkin’, but mentioned nothing to him until a later post, to which he replied;
I get a Dog’s Bollocks award? Cool! What is it? Does it have a logo? I hope so, I want to stick in my sidebar for all to see.
So how does this award refer to me exactly?
1. (UK, vulgar) The testicles (sometimes used in the singular)
2. (UK, vulgar) Nonsense or information deliberately intended to mislead.
3. (Ireland, vulgar) An idiot, an ignorant or disagreeable person.
Don’t mind him; he’s only an oul’ bollocks!Perhaps I shouldn’t ask?
This was the birth of the official Dog’s Bollocks award, a whole lot of nonsense that has no real definition at all… other than to tell people that I think their blog is the Dog’s Bollocks, the Cat’s Pyjamas, the Bees Knees… and that being the Dog’s Bollocks is most definitely a good thing.
This award doesn’t mean you’re the best, or any worse than the winner before you, it just that I found your blog particularly ticklish that month. Gettit?
The only catch is that you won’t ever find the Dog’s Bollocks award on this here sight. If you’d like to see it, you’ll have to visit the sites it has been awarded to and you might be lucky enough to find it somewhere in their side-bar territory.
Here is the list of winners, which will be updated every month from here on in:
- Jennifer Farley Photography (July ’08)
- Just Thinkin’ (August ’08)
- Maxi Cane (September ’08)
- Sam, Problem Child Bride (October ’08)
- Headrambles (November ’08)
- (December’s Dog’s Bollocks got a bit cold and went for a cup of cocoa instead for a change of scenery)
- Rick O’Shea (January ’09)
- Thrift Criminal (February ’09)
- (March’s Dog’s Bollocks stepped down in respect to Thrifty)
- Voodoolady(April ’09)
November's Dog's Bollocks
Nahh, I hadn’t forgotten… I just live longer months than everyone else. It’s great.
I’m so proud of my Daddyo. I have the manuscript for his book sitting on my living-room table. I use it as a kettle-boiler, something to read while waiting for the toaster to pop… you know what I mean. I called it a ‘Bathroom Buddy’ to his face this morning and he went very quiet, it’s probably not a nice thing to have your magnum opus associated with… erm… number twos.
Puppychild always gets curious when I pick up the seemingly clear A4 pages and sees it as a cue. She roots around for a marker and wields it around like a Jedi, feeling the force of the blank page.
“Ya wanna draw a picture?” she’d ask.
“No I’m reading Grandad’s book.” I’d reply.
*Long Pause*
“Draw a picture of Grandad!!” No amount of refusing will get her off my back when creativity is concerned, so I always end up having to go and get another scrap of paper and draw a beardy-stick-man on it. She then sits happily drawing Grandads and singing Grandad songs while I read his book in the corner, chuckling every now and then.
Puppychild would look up occasionally after I’d let out a giggle…
“Whya laughing, mommy?”
“Grandad’s crazy.”
“Oh” she’d laugh… ”Yeah! Grandad’s crazy. It’s ok, he’s allowed.”
… and we’d go back to doing Grandad things.
So on behalf of myself and my daughter, I extend a warm You’re the Dog’s Bollocks! to my dear old pop, one of my bestest fwends, a man who really does know everything. We two are your biggest fans.
P.S. Whatever you read about me in this book of his, it’s all lies, don’t believe a word of it.
