So there I was on Saturday sitting on the floor sipping a fine wine from Aldi admiring my newly purchased art. That’s right plebeians! for the first time ever I purchased an honest to god piece of ART!
Not only that but as I sat supping on wine and culture in the oven quietly baking away was a Tart Tatin, that shit is FRENCH! No goddamn normal apple tarts in my chateau de rouge, no sir, pourquoi? a) the three apples it took to make it constitute exactly half of my apple ‘crop’ b) hello, I own art now.
Sometimes I’m so punk rock I scare myself.
p.s. nerdjunkie, you just got served! Observe the delight of my impartial tasters.
Yes, I realise piggy wig could use a wash and no, I can’t find anyone else willing to eat my foods.
I haven’t slept properly since last Sunday, why?
( Faith No More has me jazzed I tells you. JAZZED!!Collapse )
(PRO TIP: museums have the nicest free toilets in any city. You’re welcome).
You remember this post about my inappropriate gift of a garden? of course you do! but it's been sooo long now you're jonesing for a garden update well...
CHECK THIS SHIT OUT!
and all of it's edible! I successfully killed off the tulips, daffodils and something pink that looked like a bunch of gnome hats on a stalk. And replaced them with; mint, parsley, two types of chives, three types of oregano, coriander, sage, rosemary, thyme, a geranium I'm told you can eat but I'm not going there and of course the apple trees.
We had to babysit the crap out of those trees, if we weren't constantly watering them we were spending 15 minutes a day squishing the greenfly and caterpillars that were trying to fuck with my crop! for all that we got one eating apple. ONE!
still awesome though.
sooo updating livejournal is on the backest burner of them all. this is due to a) my new overlords expecting me to perform something analogous to a days work and b) my monitor, in it's new physio-friendly elevated position, being visible not just all in my open plan office but probably from space too.
I could try and post with all I have done since my last update but that would just blow your mind with AWESOME! and that seems irresponsible. instead here's what I did today.
I.Went. To. The. Gym.
sensibleken probably remembers the only other time in my life I ventured into one of these Kellogian nightmares. Ill prepared? I showed up wearing corduroy trousers.
Today was different; I wore short shorts! (which I have sneaking suspicion are supposed to be swimming togs but whatever).
Why go to a gym redd, why?
First, it's supplied free by my job. FREE!
Second, two weeks ago I bought a vest to cycle in. I found out later that this style of vest is more commonly known as a 'muscle-vest'. The sheer irony nearly caused the universe to implode.
yes, that sign over the mirror really does read "Building strength builds our confidence". welcome to my private hell.
Is there anything better than finding a new webcomic and trawling through their backcatalogue?
Busy doesn’t begin to describe what It’s like in the Vodafone mothership but today I plan on making time for this MyFirstDictionary
Todays word is:
Q: is it wrong that I've spent the morning listening to Ladyhawke and The Sisters of Mercy?
A: a thousand times YES! on the plus side I just noticed Señor Cohen in the related videos.
*edit* even better when looking for the squiggle over the N in Señor I refound Señor Coconut's myspace. smooth like a mountain stream.
hey Yesterday redd!
stop being such a nerdlinger, drinking is AWESOME!
( Sunday...Collapse )
Dear redd, this week:
b)dig out the sushi kit you got for xmas and USE IT.
c)manage more than one chin-up without collapsing in a noodley armed heap, your Y-chromosome is embarrassed to be seen with you
d)bake an awesome pie for the Intercontinental Bake-off, you got served by nerdjunkie now BRING IT!
e)don't drink, really, I mean it.
Your Caffeinated Self
Friday was probably the most gig heavy day, we’d planned to spend the rest of the weekend just wandering about enjoying the ATP experience. We were greeted by a gloriously sunny Saturday morning so we killed time and our hangovers cruising the grounds of Butlins refuelling on coffee and trying to guess the gender of the foppish skinny folk. There were cute chicks everywhere!
See what I did there? It’s a pun on the word ‘chick’ because you were thinking… ok fine
Forgive me now?
( Saturday...Collapse )
All Tomorrow’s Parties. We got up at the sinfully early to catch our Ryanair Icarus bucket at 6.30 but at least we were in good company. Joining us on the gale force buffeted tarmac was a veritable army of flannel shirts, black plastic rimmed glasses and beards. It’s a strange thing when a group of mousey hipsters reaches the critical mass more commonly seen in stag parties and rugby tours. Strange in its boisterous similarities; although, the whooping, wolf whistles and cat calls at the automated safety announcements and applause at the Ryanair trumpet-of-arrival-on-time could have been ironic, I’m too old to tell.
( Friday: partypartypartypartypartyCollapse )
*edit: what the fuck is going on with lj cuts? that was a stressful few minutes trying not to overload your friends pages
First they came and turned off the Hot Water
and I said nothing because they left the kettle.
Then they came and fired the Cleaner
and I said nothing because they left the dishwasher
Then they came and took the colour printer
and I still said nothing because we still had the crappy little grayscale one in reception
But then they came
Just for house keeping and posterity. (I wrote this on my mothers laptop and saved the file to my phone on Easter Sunday, I just found it.)
Lent is based on Jesus spending 40 days in the desert right? Trust me it is. What the sneaky bastards neglect to mention in Lent is that Sundays don't actually count as days. I mean I shouldn't have been surprised Christians are forever sweeping the details under the proverbial carpet of reality. Like these French monks living in isolation, who were forbidden from eating any meat but fish on a Friday, famously went to great philosophical and logically twisted lengths to reclassify Rabbits as Fish (I think they started with Toucans*; Toucans dive into water therefore are fish. Toucans live in burrows. Rabbits live in Burrows. BAM,
rabbit fish stew.)
I don't know if Jesus took Sundays off, I doubt it. I mean if he did he's basically pulling a Bear Grylls. Now Ray Mears, there's a human locust I'd want by my side in a desert. He's trumped the cheese eating surrender monks by reclassifying the entire natural world as food. Actually I think he might have trumped all of Christianity. Loaves and Fishes? Bitch please, how'd you like loaves, fishes, a side salad of rocket and hazelnuts with a main of roast venison? Water into wine? Ray know the leaves that'll get you more off your nut than ketamine and will ease you back from Kaleidoscopeland with a nutrient packed drink made from a tree. A Fucking Tree! What's more you know Ray Mears' religion would be completely awesome; all canoe rides, short pants and, to paraphrase Billy Connolly, you can eat as much as you like. Sign me up.
eh, I digress...Where's the veganism?
"I'm in the bin..."
the full final list is behind the cut, I wouldn't bother; it just a list, like.
( this is the end, my non-belly friend...Collapse )
*edit Cormorants not Toucans, but you knew that. it was a test.
|Subject:||Ace of bass|
Squarepusher; My Brain! My Eyes! My Funk! And this time, despite the pre gig wine-ing, I can remember the entirety of the gig, woop! The last two times I saw him was at ATP and I was somewhat viscous amnesious by the time he hit the stage.
The first time I saw him, about 5 or 6 years ago, was with thejamie at the same venue as last Saturday. That time, though, he taunted the poor kids coming up on pills for 45 minutes with silence randomly interrupted by high pitched beeps. Then, just as they were foaming at the mouth, he rolled up his sleeves ,spat on the floor and smashed them in the face with a baseball-bat-with-nails-in of a set .
( Trash Funk and a Public Service warningCollapse )
I’ve been going to a physiotherapist for the past 420 euro and I have to say the results are slow, painful and less than dramatic. More importantly; you know the way they say don’t be embarrassed, doctors have heard it all before? I fucking doubt it. I was telling her about a pain I get in my leg:
‘so when is it at it’s worst’ she inquired. ‘Um, when I’m doing cartwheels’. The pen stops, she looks up over her glasses at my, deadpan, bearded, very much not a 12 year old girl’s, face; ‘cartwheels? Like..’ * she mimes the start of a cartwheel*. ‘ that’s the one’. We pause for awkwardness. ‘I’m a ninja’ I offer as way of explanation. Mastercard couldn’t buy the look she gives me.
Last night she was talking at me while pummelling my spine. It’s a particularly unfair and one-sided form of communication due to me being rendered somewhat speechless by her repeated pressing down on my lung space.
‘We’ were on the subject of running and she was admonishing me for running on the footpath. You’re not doing yourself any favours, you shouldn’t run unless you’re running on grass. What I wanted to say in reply was something along the lines of ‘the fuck, lady? a) check out the hundreds of runners out there on the concrete every day and b) I live in Dublin, the biggest piece of grass near me is a green with about a 100m circumference and excuse me if I’d rathe not be the human equivalent of a hamster in a wheel’ what I did manage to wheeze out was a less than defiant ‘I… Like… Run…’. ‘Very good, but on grass now you hear’. If rolling eyes made a sound she’s be deafened.
Aside from being prodded an poked to have enough new pain to forget my original complaint I do have a raft of amusing looking exercises to do at home and work. These do not make me look cool. I have one where I have to swing my legs while sitting at my desk; this is just curling hair around my finger and batting my eyelashes away from looking like I’m flirting with my desk neighbour. Another where I have to loll my head (and I mean this in the nicest way) like I belong on the special bus. Then there’s the one where I pretend to be a windmill. Anyday now I fully expect Don Quixote to pop by and tilt at me.
in an unrelated note *wink* belated happy birthday to psi