The Modern Congregation

When it came down to it, writing an essay wasn't as fun as I thought it would be. In fact, it's damn hard work. So I didn't do it. I have been given some food for thought though and I have exercised my brain more than I have in a long time (unless you count doing crosswords and playing with Rubicks cubes, which I don't).

Nelly's title made me ponder mental illness with regards to celebrity culture. It seems that celebrities are keen to share their personal lives, warts and all, and many famous people; artists, musicians, actors, etc. have well publicised histories of mental illness. Does this make them seem more human, like the rest of us? Some would argue yes, it does. Others may claim that it is easier for celebrities to admit they have mental health problems. After all, they have the money to book themselves into the Priory clinic while us mere mortals have to contend with the NHS and 'care in the community' services and we all know how useful these are. Some say that famous people who suffer from mental health problems are bathed in glory. Take Kurt Cobain for example, who suffered from severe depression, drug abuse and suicidal fantasies. The man may as well be the messiah as far as his fans were concerned. The common people are merely judged and stigmatised if they are labelled mentally ill.

So, does celebrity status lead some people to develop mental illness due to the pressures of fame, or are mentally ill people more likely to seek out stardom due to some form of narcissum. I'd argue both. The fact is that celebrities are normal people like you and me and just as a percentage of us will suffer from mental illness so will a percentage of celebrities. It is up to the individual how they deal with it. If celebrities want to shout it from the roof tops or deny it even though it's blatantly obvious then that is their choice.

Anyway, moving on to Mr. Toaster's suggestion of a modern day replacement for Satan. Do we need one? That doesn't matter anyway, there will always be something, or someone, to represent the evil, horned, red man. Some politicians spring to mind. George W. Bush could well be the devil in disguise but I doubt it. I think the modern day replacement for Satan is more likely to have taken the form of the interweb. Think about it, anybody, anywhere in the world has 24/7 access to all types of evil via the net. So next time your innocently chatting to dirrtydevil666 maybe, just maybe, you are chatting to the devil himself. I've heard he's a regualr reader of Nelly's Garden. Oh, and another obvious modern day replacement for Satan would be Santa but he doesn't exist.

And, fianlly, on to Ed's suggestion. The classical orgins of well-established Neighbour's characters. I found this the hardest subject of all so maybe I'm not much of an expert on Neighbours after all. I'm afraid Ed, I'll have to lose the marks for references to non-biblical works published before 1700. Jamie always says that Neighbours is like the modern congregation. Millions of people tune in at the same time everyday and learn good old fashioned morals and values. With that in mind, Harold Bishop is obviously John the Baptist. Helen Daniels was the Virgin Mary herself. Jim Robinson and Anne Daniels were Adam and Eve which inevitably means that Scott Robinson was Abel and Paul Robinson was Cain. Lou Carpenter is Zeus the tax collector. Unfortunately I can't work Karl and Susan Kennedy into the equation but I do remember one of my friends (not Dirt Bird) decided to name her breasts after them so I guess that's their classical origin.

Thankyou all for the input. I hope I didn't disappoint by being a lame arse and not actually writing any essays atall but I'd fogotten what a pain in the bum researching and referencing and structuring could be. I enjoyed giving my brain a work out but I'm just glad that I'm not being tested on it anymore.

Back To School

For a while now I've been feeling restless and discontent. I have a desire to be creative but I'm totally uninspired. I think I know what's wrong with me though. I miss education. Even though I hated school and hate exams and deadlines I love to learn. I just like doing it in my own time. So how do I go about this problem? Well, I put it to you, my readers (all 3 of them, Nelly, Jamie and Stray Toaster) to set me an essay title so that I can expand my mind. Bear in mind though that I was a sociology student so no essays about quantum physics Mr. Toaster. My specialist subjects are: Neighbours, dogs, how to sell the new Autumn/Winter Next Directory and Courtney Love (I actually did manage to write an essay about Courtney Love for my degree. I wrote 3000 words on it which nearly killed me and found out after I handed it in that it was only meant to be a 1000 word essay. Damn!)

Working in a shop turns the brain to mush and sucks the soul clean out of you so I need to keep my mind active otherwise I'll get senile dementia at the age of 30 and nobody wants that. Anyway, the essay title doesn't have to be on one of my specialist subjects. It wouldn't be challenging enough and I need a challenge. It can be on anything you so desire, except quantum physics.

No Such Thing As Satan

A few weeks ago when we were down visiting the Derry Man for his birthday we got chatting about Santa Claus and how we came to find out that he didn't exist. The Sniper (a lovely friend of mine) said when he found out there was no such thing as Santa he wasn't upset that he didn't exist but he was extremely pissed at his parents for lying to him for all those years.

How I came to find out that Santa didn't exist was partly due to my incessant nagging at my mum to get me a Space buggy that cost a million pounds. I think I was about 7 at the time and mum tried to explain that although Santa delivered the presents it was in fact the parents who had to pay for them. I was too young to understand the concept of money and continued to nag and nag and nag until mum yelled at me to give over sure there was no such thing in Santa anyway. Although people often say 'awww' when I tell them this story really it done me no harm whatsoever. Christmas was always a special time in our family and knowing that Santa didn't exist meant I had weeks of fun before Christmas finding out what mum and dad had hidden away for me.

Once I had established that Santa didn't exist it opened up whole new possibilities for me. If Santa didn't exist then the Devil probably didn't either. I had hours of fun at school telling the other kids that I didn't believe in the Devil. I loved the way they looked at me in disbelief and then told me I would go to hell for sure. I loved smiling back at them and saying 'how can I go to hell if I don't believe it exists'.

But of course, Santa does exist. I know because I worked for him. And he's no where near as fat as he used to be. I think Gillian McKieth had words with him.

Swisser Vs Harry

Thanks to Dirt Bird my otherwise sophisticated weekend has been tainted with scary mental images of big hairy rockers receiving 'soapy tit wanks' from young bar maids. Brrrrrr. Gives me shivers down my spine. Anyway, not to dwell on such things...

My otherwise sophisticated weekend involved going out for drinks with the girlies on Thursday night (of course Jamie was there, he loves hanging out with the girlies). We came home at a reasonable hour but after having drunk an unreasonable amount of whiskey in a short space of time and so the wee head was feeling a bit fragile the next day.

After we got over our hangovers we dolled ourselves up for an evening out at chez Nellybert's where we were entertained by Swisser chasing Harry ze C**t around the kitchen going 'Shoo! Shoo' and telling him to get out. That wasn't the funny bit though. The funny bit was the way Harry just looked at her like she was mad. Which she is. In a good way. And then as Swisser was bragging about how she'd 'seen to the cat' and 'I showed him' and there he was lounging on the kitchen floor behind her. Laughing his wee head off.

We woke up this morning and took the doglets for a walk. We took them to Portglenone forest as our second hangovers rendered us unable to think of somewhere different. The dogs didn't complain though. Rosie was a bit disappointed that we didn't take her round the forest for a second time but Paddy was fading a bit and so were we so we took them back.

All in all it was a pleasant weekend. Tonight we chill and watch the first coupla episodes of the 3rd series of Lost. And maybe a coupla episodes of Neighbours. Karl and Susan are back together and are spreading joy in Ramsay Street. Yay!

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

I am determined to suss out this buisness of linking. Hell, even Nelly can do it. Anyway, I came across this

If you're a Jack Black fan you should like. Or if your an LSD fan you should like it. In fact, you should just like it 'cos it's absolutely hilarious.

Hope it works!

The Dumb Things People Say

Everyone says stupid things. Here are some examples of the stupid things I say:

'Who is Mo Mowlam anyway?' My mum would swear this is the dumbest thing I've ever said but I think it is a perfectly reasonable question to ask.

'Are Buzzards called buzzards because the buzz?' At the time this seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to ask but now looking back I realise that it is a little bit silly.

Last night while watching a wildlife programme with Jamie and Bert. Jamie said he seen a dragonfly at work the other day. Bert says to him maybe it was a damsel fly he saw. Jamie reckoned it maybe coulda been. I says,

'Is it Kingfishers that are the wee blue ones?'

Jamie says, 'A Kingfisher's a bird Hannah'

'Oh aye, so it is.'


The funniest thing I've heard anyone say came from the mouth of Bertram. It was years ago and Jaffa cakes were doing a promotional thing where if you collected tokens and sent them away they would send you a glow-in-the-dark toy. I can't remember what the toy was but Bert was sat at the kitchen table scoffing the Jaffa's and investigating the box when he rips a Jaffa cake open and says,

'Do these things really glow in the dark?'

God only knows what damage we'd be doing to our internal organs if we really ate glow in the dark Jaffa cakes but Bert didn't seem to mind too much.

Careers Advise

So what exciting thing did I do on my day off? I went for an interview with a careers advisor. And was it inspiring and insightful? Of course it wasn't. I told the lady my position (working in retail, degree in sociology). I told her my plans for the future (further study, possibly a course in counselling or teacher training and then specialising in special needs tutoring) And was she encouraging? Was she f**k. She told me that counselling was difficult to get a full-time profession out of and it is more common to do counselling within a professional career such as nursing or social work. She told me they would be unlikely to accept me for a PGCE course as my degree wasn't relevant enough and, even then, to branch off into specialised tutoring was difficult to make a full-time career out of. She then asked me if I was interested in buisness, admin, office work or call-centres to which I promptly answered No. She then proceeded to encourage me to look into social work and nursing both of which I would rather avoid. It got to the point where I just wanted to yell at her 'Forget it, tell me how to become a carpenter.'

Damn!

I just checked to see if my link worked. It doesn't. Boooo! One more try then I give up. Click here to see the the new man of dreams. And if that doesn't work the correct web adress to access it (the one below is wrong, typical) http://www.fat-pie.com/chavs.htm

My New Darling

Our good friend Big Hand D, who was also in Derry with us last night, introduced us to this
charming young fellow. I think he's lovely and if I had the good fortune to meet this handsome fellow I would snap him up straight away and not waste a second before introducing him to my granny. This link probably won't work so if you're wondering what gorgeous sexy person I'm talking about you can also find him at www.fat-pie.com and scroll to the bottom for an interview with the beautiful Darren Banks, my future-to-be husband. Thanks Big Hand D for saving me from a future of misery with Jamie when my heart belongs to a greater man.

Derry and Dogs

Me and the mister have just got back from Derry after celebrating the big Derry Man's birthday. His lovely girlfriend Magda organised a surprise party for him and we were the surprise. We bought him a bottle of wine and a copy of the Beano. The Derry Man's family were also there and what a lovely family they are. They forced me to sing a song on the guitar and even though I was shaky and nervous they told me it was lovely. Steve;s mum said I had a lovely voice but I just need to work on my confidence. Derry definitely seems like a good place to move for a while. Me and Jamie like the vibe down there. At the minute anywhere seems better than Ballymena.

Me and Jamie and Zoe took the dogs a walk down the back lane at Nellybert's one day last week. Zoe wanted to find a field to throw ball for the dogs. The first field had cows so we walked on. Jamie stayed to talk to the cows for a bit. Zoe and I and the dogs moved on to the next field. The dogs were running round the field and Jamie started walking down to us and the cows started following him. It was then that we realised that it was the same field. We yelled at Jamie to stop walking as all the cows were running behind him. It was too late. Gracie had spotted the cows and charged full steam ahead. She chased them cows and once she was on their trail there was no stopping her. We yelled for ages and she eventually came back but not without giving us all heart attacks. Even though the cows were scared of her if one had stood on her or kicked her that would've been the end of Gracie Grew. For such a tiny dog she has the bravery of a T Rex.

Who'd Live In A Town LikeThis?

The weather's been awful for the past 2 days. Pissing rain and winds from hell. It's to be even worse tomorrow. Today the wind blew the clouds away and the sun was shining. This is the calm before the storm. The weather certainly reflects the mood in Ballymena at the minute. Moody and gloomy. Maybe it just reflects my mood but with the recent events I think everyone is feeling a bit unsettled.

I don't want to bring my kids up here. I'd like to bring them up in Ireland but not Ballymena. I love this town but I hate it. I think about my qualifications and what I can do with them in this town. Nothing. I never regret moving back here. There was little opportunity in Stoke for me either. One shit hole town's the same as the next shit hole town except that the shits who occupy the town have different accents.

It's a shame that when I do finally write something it's a moan but I don't feel taht fluffy at the minute. Even before the bad weather, the bad happenings and the bad vibes I was feeling washed out and angry with this town. I feel like it's stifling me. Sucking up my creative juices and leaving me totally uninspired. So that's inspired me to get a computer. If I can't find inspiration in my surroundings I'm gonna have to seek it out elsewhere. And since Jamie is surgically attached to his computer I have to get my own one.

What Kind Of Pirate Am I?

As always with me when I try to link up to something it never works but I thought I'd give it a go anyway.

What kind of pirate am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

The Blind First Aider

I've never won a competition just because. I've always had to work my ass off for it. I came 3rd in the Directory competition and got 50 squids cash and 30 squids of vouchers (Next vouchers though, wouldn't you know). I'm just glad I don' t have to stand by that car anymore.

The weather is so bad that me and Jamie are just keeping a low profile. We haven't taken Paddy and Rosie anywhere for ages. They probably hate us now. Even though I got the picture of them blown up for mum's birthday.

They sent the first aid certificates to work a few days ago and the boss said we had to have our pictures taken and put up on the wall. In my photo I blinked, sort of kind of in purpose, so I wouldn't get blinded by the flash. I have my eyes shut and the biggest cheesiest grin. When I saw it this morning I went straight in and told Emma she had to take another picture. Another girl had her eyes half closed and some of the stockroom folk were laughing saying that she looked chinese and the other girl looked like a simpleton. Someone says,

'And what about Hannah what does she look like?'

'Well, she's got her eyes shut and a big silly grin. She's their love child.'

Then there were great roars of laughter. I don't know who I feel more sorry for, the Chinese, the simpleton or the love child.

Happy Birthday Nellymoms

Moms
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

No, this isn't mum's new hair do but it is quite similar to her new do. I know that there will probably be much protesting at this picture but I happen to think it is a lovely shot of Nelly. Anyway, photos and hair dos is not what's important. It's Nellymoms' birthday and that's what's important.


Happy Birthday Mum

Love you lots xx

Lost For Words Cos There's Too Many

I am totally lost for inspiration at the minute. I don't know why but I thought I'd look over some old books I used to write in to see if it would encourage me. I found something which made me smile. Seems that I am always lost for inspiration.

I feel sad beacuse I can't write anything beautiful. I can't create anything beautiful. Everything I think, I think it's all been thought before, so even if it's beautiful it won't belong to me. People say that being creative can make you happy and it's true. My eldest sister is the most contented person I know and she is always painting, knitting, crafting and cooking. She is a domestic goddess but that's not what makes her happy, that's what makes her boyfriend happy. I am rubbish at all of these. I can't paint, have no patience for knitting and get all hot and bothered in the kitchen. I am the furthest thing away from a domestic goddess. And I'm not that tidy either.

My other sister is a career girl. She is determined and independent. She is focused and strong-willed. She is also creative. But I'm not a career girl either. Nowhere near ambitious enough. Or hardwroking enough. And I've always believed that I'm not really that much good at anything except anagrams. But being good at anagrams doesn't get you that far in life. It just helps you do crosswords, I always thought that by improving my vocabulary I'd become a better writer but it becomes harder because there are more words to choose from.

I am no more inspired than I was to begin with but now there are more pressing matters at hand, like getting Nellymoms a birthday present.

Tinkerton Is Tempting

I'm seriously thinking about going for Nelly's job in Tinkerton when she quits it. Even that would be better than standing in front of a car, with a clip board, asking people if they want a copy of the Next Directory. Poeple are so untrusting of people standing in front of cars with clip boards. I don't blame them for I am too.

I am sick of all the bullshit that goes with my job. How the workers are not only expected to work their asses off bending over backwards for ungrateful customers but also act as walking advertisements for the merchandise. One week the manager is telling us she wants to see us in lots of nice accessories, the next week she's saying no more jewellery, it's too hard to tell if people are buying it on discount or stealing it. You wouldn't want to but the jewellery anyway, it falls to pieces in weeks.

Me and Jamface joined Bert and some of his chums for a day's frolicking in Portglenone. Me and Jamie didn't stay to see the Red Hot Chili Pipers but we enjoyed some local talent in O'Connell's and if Bert had seen those weans on the whistles he'd have been green with jealousy. Apart from that we have done nothing but watch Neighbours. Evil Rob Rob's not defeated yet.

It is only now that I am getting chance to write about my week. A very good one it was too. To ease our hangovers on Saturday we took Gravy Dave a drive around the country. We took him to Slemish but he didn't want to climb it 'cos there wasn't a pub at the top. So we took him to Ballycastle aswell and got excited about the Llama's Fair.

That evening we picked up one of my bestest friends Dirt Bird and her boyfriend Marc and took them out to see Nelly and Bert. As always Nelly had been working her magic in the kitchen and produced a mean Cheese, onion and spinach pie and a delicious apple and blackberry sponge. Gravy Dave provided the after dinner entertainment with a bit of poetry and Dirt Bird was reminded of her debauched antics from way back when.

On Sunday evening we drove Gravy and Dirt Bird and Marc down to Derry except that we forgot Dirt Bird and Marc at first and had to turn back to get them. We were going down to visit 2 of our lovely friends, the Derry Man and his beautiful Polish girlfriend Magdamigos. Everyone else stayed down their but me and Jamie had to head back for work work in the morning.

Tuesday after work I had a qick drink with one of the hottest chicks in Ballymena, the girl that Gravy Dave scored with on Friday. She told me that she really dug the Gravy boy and that he had lovely hair. Dirt Bird and Marc called round later with their chips from the Merchant fish bar, all folorn because they fry everything in beef stock and they're both veggies. We then headed out to meet Scullion and Big Hand D for a coupla drinks. We'd already decided on the way up to the bar that we would take a detour down Badtoad street to see if their were any Badtoads about. The Badtoads are a family in Ballymena that all look the same. They all have the same bowl haircut and wear their trousers pulled up to their nipples. Dirt Bird hadn't seen them in years and Marc and Jamie had never seen them so we thought we'd treat ourselves.

On the way up I kept saying that it was too dark and cold for the Badtoads to be standing outside their door watching the world go by but lo and behold they were out. We didn't even have to go down their street as they were walking to Mcgroggan's for some midnight snacks. I asked Marc if he had a chance to see them properly but he hadn't. So Dirt Bird suggested we go to McGroggan's aswell. We did but I couldn't keep a straight face in the shop especially after Mammy Badtoad asked Son Badtoad if he wanted a pot noodle. Marc had to leave the shop and all Jamie cared about was getting a wham bar. Me and Dirt Bird laughed are heads off though.

Then we had a wee drinky with Scullion and Big Hand D who have just recently got engaged so congratulations to them. The reason we call Scullion's finacee Big Hand D is because he cut his hand on glass when he was really drunk, it got infected and his hand swoll up 3 times the size. He said when he was in hospital the meanest nurse in the world stood over his bed and demanded that he got up and had a shower. Big Hand D said he felt so awful that he wanted just to lie there in his own dirt and he didn't care if there were flies buzzing around him. Jamie said he could picture him wafting the flies away with his massive swollen hand.

On wednesday night I called round to the birthday girl's and gave her birthday wine and a birthday voucher for Waterstones. I normally avoid birthday vouchers but I wanted to give someone their birthday present on their actual birthday for the first time and I couldn't find anything that she would've liked.

So that brings me to this morning. I have had a lovely lie in while poor Jamie's gone to work and I plan to take things easy this weekend. There's something going down at Portglenone this weekend so we might head down for a bit of banter and a few swallies but other than that I'll be doing nathin'

Leaping Gracie

Leaping Gracie
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

This a picture of Gracie running to give her mum birthday licks. I would've posted a pic of the birthday girl herself but I don't have any recent ones.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZOE

Hope that Gracie and Dave are spoiling you.

Go Gravy Dave

I'vve never done a drunken post before but hey, there's a first time for everything. It's been a good night. Gravy Dave has been here for a mere 24 hours and already managed to score with one of the hottest chicks in Ballymena. So proud of him. The girl involved is a dear friend of mine and who better to kiss her than another dear friend of mine. Go Gravy Dave. High five!

We also made some new friends tonight. Sometimes I hate this town but every once in a while you meet some people who surprise you. I also caught up with some old freinds. Always a pleasure. Well, nearly always.

So, yeah, drunken posts. They're really not all they're cracked up to be. Bit of a chore actually. I thought it would be a good idea but I'm beginning to diasagree with myself now. Sleep would be more fun.

Jamie the Brave

It's almost like someone is trying to tell Jamie that he shouldn't drive. Yesterday he was performing death defying stunts in it. He rolled the car over. It was either that or drive into the back of someone and although it was the more dangerous of the 2 options it was just as well he did. Miraculously there isn't a scratch on Jamie but the car is a write-off.

All the poor boy could think of afterwards was how was he going to get to work. So Nellybert came to the rescue. Bert picked Jamie and the wreck up and mum has lent Jamie the Nellymobile to get to work for the next few days. It's times like this I realise how big and strong and brave Jamie is. Not one single bump or lump on him and then back in behind the wheel of a car after a couple of hours. So brave.

The car has been a nightmare from the start and it hadn't been cleaned since our last camping holiday and was really starting to smell bad so I'm glad to see it go. Jamie is gutted but then it's his first car and I guess it's similar to your first love. It's a pain in the arse about the cost but at least my boy's not broken. I haven't seen the car yet but I'll make sure there's pictures on flickr.

Happy Big Face Jamie

Jamie on his hols
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

This should've been posted last Saturday but I'm lame.


Happy 30Th Birthday Jamie Big Face now your face will grow even bigger. I love you pineapple eyes, more than the KenNedy's from Neighbours.

First Aid For Eejits

Today was the first day of my First Aid training course. The verdict: If anyone needs any First Aid I'll remember to shout for help and phone an ambulance (apparently a lot of people do forget to do this), if you need put in the recovery position that's no bother and I'll check you for broken bones and make sure you don't choke on your puke, but if you've stopped breathing and need ressucitated you will probably die. I couldn't make the button click on the dummy when I was ressuctating it and have been advised by the course leader to eat my weetabix tomorrow morning. I'm gonna practice on Jamie when he gets in tonight.

The course isn't too bad. It's a break from work. I like being back in the classroom. I like being a student again. Although I relaise this time I actually have to take it seriously as it's people's lives we're learning to save. I just hope I'm never in a situation where I need to use it.

As always there's some total eejit that says something stupid and, as always, it's me who says it. We were given several letters. G C L I P S. We were told they were the 1st letter to several words that were all different types of blood-loss wounds. He gave us the answer to G (graze) and told us to figure out the rest. We worked in groups and each group got the same answers. We all got all but one right. We all thought C was for cut but when the guy said they were all kinds of cuts and what else could it be, I yelled out

'Castration'

'Sorry, what?' yer fella says.

'Castration' says I 'You know when your hand is cut off or something'

'You mean amputation Hannah?' he says with a smile.

'Aye that's what I mean.'

'Castration's something else Hannah but we'll chat about that later' he says, still smiling, everyone laughing.

'Aye but it's still a blood-loss wound' says I, going bright red.

Is Blogger Trying To Tell Me Something?

I used all my Flickr allowance this month so I hijacked Jamie's flickr account. He never uses it anyway. I have added the link but Blogger is being a pain and won't show me the update so I don't know if it's worked.

Jamie says both gigs went well and that he had a good birthday. I spent last night round at Nellybert's laughing my head off at those Young Banjoes and eating homemade fudge that Zoe and I had made earlier in the day. It's a damn hard sweet to perfect but it doesn't matter what way it turns out it always tastes good.

This week I'm being relieved from the boredom of work and being sent on a First Aid course. I'm sure it will prepare me for any kind of emergency, and I won't just panic and forget everything I've been taught at the first sight of blood.

Jamie's back tomorrow and, as always, I'll be glad to see him. You can't help but miss abody when they go away. I didn't even send the poor babe a birthday card. I have an allergic reaction to birthdays, I can never get birthday cards or presents on time. My Granny's birthday card still sits here in my living room. Shame on me*

Gravy Dave's visit is in the horizon. I look forward to showing Ballymena to Gravy. He is already quite well versed in the lingo so he should get on fine. I think people will have more trouble understanding him than he will them. He'll love the dogs and he'll love Harry. Harry will probably like Dave as he's one of them cat magnets. Rosie will probably want to marry him and Paddy will knock him to the ground if they play tugger. Fun will be had by all.

* No, really, shame on me.

In Dreams

It has always been my dream to travel. Although really, I would like to make that dream a reality. But until it becomes a reality, there are always dreams. Last night I dreamt I was in Kenya. It was the most amazing feeling. I could hear all the jungle noises and I had this overwhelming sense of achievement that I had actually made it. I was in Africa. I climbed up to a wooden platform where I was meant to board an elephant. Only they weren't elephants but camels. I was petrified of getting on to one at first but when I did it was easier than riding a horse. The hump gave extra support which made me feel secure.

I love dreams like that. The only one that comes close to it is a dream I had about a guy who took his pet lion to the pub. The lion took a disliking to me and pinned me up against the wall. It beared it's teeth and I knew in my heart it was going to bite my face off. I was filled with fear and knew that the lion would sense that and kill me. It's owner was shouting in the background, You have to look at it the right way. I used all my power and might to look at the lion in the right way which involoved not being scared anymore. I had to force myself to relax (while still pinned up against the wall by it). After a few seconds I saw something in the lion's eyes and I knew it wasbn't going to kill me anymore. I put my hands on the lion and ruffled it's mane like it was a doggy. That was my best dream ever. Only in dreams can we come so close to something so wild. Unless your crocdile dundee.

I Hear You Got Rid Of Your Tache

I was wondering whether to go to Sainsbury's or Tesco to get my biscuits and bread today. I decided upon Tesco as I'd been to Sainsbury's the last time and Tesco is closer. I'm so glad I did. The guy who worked at the deli was shouting something to a middle-aged female customer. It sounded like, he told me you got rid of your tache. I thought I must've heard him wrong as it would be an incredibly rude thing to say to a middle-aged lady, even if you knew her. I looked at the lady to see if she had a moustache but she didn't appear to. She also hadn't been sure of what he'd said and asked him to repeat himself. He went over to her and said 'He told me you'd got rid of your tache'. So I had heard him right. The lady self-consciously put her hand to her top lip and said 'No I haven't' , to which the deli man replied 'Well that's what he told me, maybe he was talking about another type of tache' and then he walked off chuckling. I couldn't help but chuckle too but the lady was not amused. I can't really blame her. A lady should not have her body hair disussed between men. It did make my day though.

Why The Wind Annoys Me

Today I'm in such a bad mood that I feel compelled to write a list of the things that have put me in a bad mood. They are in no particular order of how annoying I find them, just some of the things that have made me seethe. They wouldn't always annoy me but I'm feeling a bit stressed anyway.

1. The wind. It's a bully. I feel like pushing it around and messing up it's hair like it does to me but I can't and that annoys me even more.

2. Shoppers. Goddam, irritating, lazy, ungrateful bastards. Though some are so nice.

3. Coming home to find that Jamie has left for England for 5 days, has used all the milk and hasn't bothered his arse to go and get some more.

4. People who don't say thankyou. Rude, rude, just plain rude.

5. Babies and kids squealing their ugly little faces off. I think a consumer environment is bad for children. All those things they see that they want and they can't have. It's bound to end in tears. Kids should be banned from shops.

Well, I could only think of 5 and 3 of them are work related and the wind can't get me when I'm indoors and maybe it's not so bad after all. And when I think of some of the tragedies that some people have to go through I know that really I am lucky.

Wayer Brownies

Jamie was in the kitchen making brownies. Not tasty homemade ones. Just some from a packet. He shouts out to me,



I think I put too much water in.

How much were you meant to put in?

75 Mls

How much did you put in?

750 Mls

Aye, you put too much water in.

I think it should be ok.

Do you think? I think if it says 75 mls then 750 mls is too much water. You ruined it.

I diasagree. I think it will be ok. It looks ok.

Jamie, it does not look ok. You ruined it.

But the picture on the packet shows the water in the jug and thats where I filled it up too.

Jamie, you ruined it.

You ruined it.

Danny Departs

Jamie reckons his car sounds like the Millenium Falcon. I told him I could tell the make of a car by what it sounds like and his sounds like a Renault Clio. The old one. He insisted that it sounded like the Millenium Falcon and I told him that I'd never heard a Millenium Falcon before but his car definitely sounded like a Renault Clio, the old one, and maybe the Millenium Falcon did too.

Danny Boy left this evening but enjoyed his stay. The weather wasn't kind to him but Danny is such an easygoing lad that it didn't bother him. the day that it rained we took him and the dogs for a walk along Cully river path. We took him to Glenariff where we started on the Viewpoint trail, took a detour on the Pixie trail and then finished on the Waterfall trail. Then we took him to Ballycastle, had some food and played on the slots.

Last night we went to The Spinning Mill (that's what you call it when you don't want people to know that it's just the local Whetherspoon's) for a bite to eat. We ran into Kermie and a few old faces and decided to help them out with the most boring pub quizz ever. Their team tied with another and a representative from each team had to go up and answer a tie-breaker. The tie break question was; how many pounds sterling was spent on Viagra per minute for the first 3 months on the market. The other team guessed 3.4 million and Kermie's team guessed 12 million. The answer was 900 and something thousand. It's still lot of money but 12 million per minute is a hell of a lot of money. The whole world would've had to been buying it. In vast quantities.

We Live in Tracksuit City

Danny arrived safe and sound in Norn Iron. His first night here we were all a bit bushwhacked so we just sat around chatting and drinking. Jamie came back from the shop saying that it's like Tracksuit City out there. I've just walked past 7 guys all wearing the same tracksuit.

Danny says I've just had an image of 7 people all in one huge tracksuit.


I'm sure there are people out there with tracksuits so huge 7 people could fit in them. We did have some intelligent conversation though. I have a new project. I'm going to research playground games and how they differ between cultures and decades. Anyone remember British Bulldog or Red Rover? They were some of the games I played as a youngster. Danny also has a new project. To create and maintain The Danny Show, purely for mine and Jamie's benefit only. Jamie's new project is to write about mine and Danny's new projects. So there you go, one night amongst friends and we all have a purpose in life now.

There Was A Fella Named Ed

Nelly asked me to write a poem about Ed. Here goes...

There was a fella named Ed,
And on his pretty wee head,
He had no pimples,
Just lovely dimples,
But if you tell him this he will go red.


So there ya go Ed, I can feel the heat from your face already. Apologies for the cheesiness...Nelly made me do it.

Goodbye Pirate John, Hello Pirate Dan

It used to be that I had too much time on my hands but nothing to write about. Now I have plenty to write about but no time. Pirate John and his Capatains and Admirals left on Tuesday evening. I met with them after work for a drink and asked John for the 117th time what his favourite bit of Ireland was. For the 117th time he replied, 'The Belfast Cow Show', even though he wasn't there and just saw an advert. I asked him again and he said it was all good but that he particularly enjoyed meeting Nelly and Bert. Well John, they enjoyed meeting you too and that wonky legged chicken hasn't seemed right since you left. I think it misses you.

Now it is Thursday and I have another friend coming to visit tonight. Young Danny Boy, who is sweet, young and who has a lot of love to give to the world. Danny is also a bit of a Pirate but only if he has important functions to attend, like fancy dress parties. We'll maybe get one of them organised. I'll go as a cat. Jamie could've been Phil Collins if he hadn't got his hair cut.

Still Lame

Last night mum invited the travelling pirates out to hers for a big feed of spicy chicken drumsticks and apple sponge. I'm sure if you take a wee visit over to Nelly's Garden you'll hear all about it. On Sunday we met with Mr and Mrs. Toaster at the Galgorm Manor Labryinth (formerly known as Gillies). I'm sure if you take a wee visit over to Nelly's Garden you'll hear all about it. On Saturday we went up to Belfast to meet some fellow bloggers. Again, if you take a wee visit over to Nelly's Garden I'm sure you'll hear all about it.

Before all that we were camping in Connermara with the Pirates. I can't pass the buck on to Nelly with that one as she wasn't there but I'm sure you'll hear all about it. Eventually. And there will be some photos. Eventually.

Lame

Lame, lame, I'm so lame.

Please Rescue Me

Rosie
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

Dear Auntie Hannah and Uncle Jamie,

Please can I come and live with you? It's not that I don't love Nelly and Bert, I do, I really do. It's that big lump of a dog Paddy. I just can't abide him anymore. He's so big and stupid and clumsy.

The only reason I ever started scunging was to get away from him but didn't the big lump just follow me. It's that nose of his. I'll gie him credit for that at least, he's a good sniffer dog. But that's besides the point. He's so stupid he's sure to get us shot one day.

So please Auntie Hannah can I come live with you. I'll miss Nelly and Bert but sure I don't ever get a chance to cuddle them anymore since Paddy came along. He's that overbearing and spoilt. He gets so jealous when anybody shows me any attention. People often think they're petting me but when they look down they see it's Paddy. It's because he pushes me out of the way.

Also, he has no concept of a good game. When you and Uncle Jamie try to play with me Paddy just comes along and spoils it. The only game he knows how to play is tugger and my teeth are too old and crumbly to play that now.

So please, please, please can I come and live in the town with you. I promise I'll be good and i'll guard your computer and saxophone and Uncle Jamie's trumpet. I promise I'll be good when that wee brat Gracie comes to visit. And I promise I'll never ever go scunging again.

Your's Loyally,

Rosie

P.S. I don't just want to live with you because Uncle Jamie has all them dog treats, I swear.

ZZZZZZZZZ

If I wasn't so tired I'd take a photograph of my tired face and post it. But I'm too tired so you'll have to imagine what my face looks like this tired. Me and the sexy Man Beast have been expecting a visit from Pirate John, Captain Tor and their respective Kiera Knightley's so I wanted the house looking tidy for their arrival.

We got stuck into it as soon as I finished work at 8 and didn't get finished til 11. Then I had about 3 hours sleep before I was up for work again. The Next Summer Sale, the day where you start work at ridiculous O'clock and realise that a lot of people are just crazed lunatics.

So not only am I suffering from lack of sleep but it's been a harsh 9 and a half hours at work. Jamie the Brave and Pirate John and his trusty crew have gone to conquer Slemish along with Gracie the Midget. I decided to stay at home and catch up on sleep. Reckon I need about 450 winks to feel human again.

Trusty Friends

I'd only been going out with Jamie a couple of months before I started calling him Man Beast. We shared a fantasy that Man Beast was some big strong hero with a trusty side-kick, Dog Beast. Every hero needs a theme song. This is Jamie's:

It's Man Beast, flying through the air,
It's Man Beast, without a single care,
It's Man Beast, with his gorgeous hair,
It's Man hair, although it's barely there.

It's Man Beast, running through the night,
It's Man Beast, ready for a fight,
Oh Man Beast, with his trusty friend,
It's Dog Beast, with him 'til the end.


Oh Dog Beast, bearing all his teeth,
It's Dog Beast ready for some grief,
Oh Dog Beast, with his trusty friend,
It's Man Beast, with him 'til the end.

Although I still call Jamie Man Beast, I'd forgotten all about this wee song. I found it when I was having a massive clear out and it made me smile. Obviously, if Jamie is Man Beast, then I am Dog Beast, bearing all my teeth.

The Hell Bunny From Hell

The other day when we were driving to Cullybackey I saw a rabbit on the side of the road. I don't think it could've been a wild bunny as it was white with tan markings on it's head. It was small so maybe it was a dwarf bunny. It reminded me of the time I looked after Sarah's rabbit for a week

Sarah was a student I worked with. Her granda who lives in Australia was in hospital awaiting heart-bypass surgery. Sarah really wanted to vist him but had no one to look after her bunny. I offered to look after it for her as it was no trouble to me and it meant a lot to her.

The first night I took it home and my dad was just as excited about it as I was. The novelty soon wore off. Apparently dwarf bunnies can make as good a pet as a dog. Aye, right. They make torturous pets for someone like me. It was only a week but it was a week of pure hell. I couldn't coop it up all day so it roamed free in my bedroom but it was so naughty. If it wasn't chewing at something it was digging holes in the carpet. And if it wasn't doing that it was shitting everywhere. It did a massive pee on my bed one night when Jamie was round and it looked so much like a cup of tea that Jamie was nearly physically ill.

As much as I hated the havoc it caused when it was out I couldn't coop it up for long and would only go out for an hour at a time. I'd say to my friends, "Yeah I gotta go home and see to the hell bunny" That rabbit caused me a lot of anxiety when it was with me. The more annoyed I got with it the more annoyed it got with me and by the time Sarah came back it was totally evil. It bit her when she picked it up.

I saw the bunny regularly after that and as it was ruining my house and shitting on my carpet it started seeming cute again. I made a lucky escape and have learnt a lesson. Some animals are cute and quite nice, like dogs. Some animals are cute and can be nice but can be bad too, like cats. Some animals can be just pure evil, like bunnies, or at least Sarah's bunny.

Hannah Vs The Butcher and O'Kanes

Oh the joys of a warm summer's day! They are countless. Everything looks nicer in the sunshine. There's only one thing I hate about a warm day and that's the smell of dead flesh. No, I'm not talking about killing people and letting them fester in the sun, I'm talking about the smell of The Butcher's. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going on an animal rights rant. I eat chicken so I wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

Ever since I was a little girl I've held my nose walking past the butcher. But it doesn't help. The smell seems to get past and burn my nostrils anyway. Depending on whether or not the winds blowing, the smell can travel down the street, meaning I end up holding my breath 'til I can hold it no more and then the first big deep breath I take is pure raw meat.

I know I am making it sound way more gruesome than it actually is but I had a bad experience with black pudding when I was younger. That taste will stay with me for the rest of my life and it ain't a sweet memory. One of my ex boyfriends worked in a butcher's for a bit and when he met me straight after work I could smell it on his clothes and hands. Thank God Jamie is a vegetarian.

It seems a bit cruel to share my feelings on butchers. Hope I don't put anyone off their pork chops. It's just that I have to walk past two butcher's to get to work every morning and when I walk back home again, even though they're closed, I can still faintly smell them. Surely there must be some way to extract the smell away? I can smell O'Kanes quite a bit on these warm days aswell. I won't go into that one but although I said I eat chicken, it might not be that long before I stop.

I'm Happy Just Because

One of my favourite song lyrics of all time has to be from Within You Without You by the Beatles.

When you've seen beyond yourself then you may find peace of mind is waiting there,
And the time will come when you see we're all one and life flows on within you and without you

It was written by George Harrison so that explains the hippy, 'one-love' vibe. I honestly believe that George Harrison was the real musical genius of the Beatles. A very underrate artist. Ok, so he did do some cheese but they all did. Even Lennon would have if he'd lived longer.

I love this lyric and this song because it reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things. I also love this lyric by Bright Eyes,

Oh my morning's coming back,
The whole world's waking up,
All the city buses swimming past,
I'm happy just because,
I found out I am really no-one

When I told my friend that I really liked it he said 'Why?'
I said that I thought it was cool to be happy because you are no-one and he said 'Why? Isn't it better to be someone?'

Is it?

Cute

Cute
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

Me and Jamie fancied a wee spot of camping so we took ourselves up to Murlough Bay yesterday. We made friends with this guy who is obviously well used to being fed by tourists as he was one fat brute. I'd never seen a deer in the wild before let alone one as friendly as this fellow. He liked licking my hand and I'm sure if me and Jamie had any food he would have gladly kicked us in the teeth for it.

Harry Ze Angel

Harry Ze C**t
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

Over at Nelly's, the latest news on Harry is that no matter how evil, wretched and nasty he may be he is to be treated like a prince. This means no more kickings in the hole, no more setting the dogs on him and no more Bert playing machine gun cat with him. Although I'm sure all this will continue behind Nelly's back.

He's not allowed to be called a c**t, f**ker, worm bag or by any other offensive term. He will only answer to Harry and Prince and Prince Harry. He is definitely less evil and wretched than he used to be but he's boring now. There's no lark with him. Takes himself a bit too seriously now that he's a prince.

X=X

My new favourite magazine is Focus. It answers all the sort of questions that I like to ask, such as, Can you cry underwater? Why do clouds float? All them sort of really important life questions that we all have. This month I accidentally skimmed over an article about the Riemann hypothesis. Please don't ask me what this is as I don't know. All I know is that it involves numbers and Maths, both of which I don't like.

The article gave a definition of a complex number. Now I know what a prime number is but a complex number is a little more, well a little more complex really. It is a hybrid number consisting of an ordianry number, (known as the 'real' part) and a second number that is a multiple of the square root of -1 (known as the 'imaginary' part). Maybe it's just my maths phobia but I think square rooting an all that is bad enough without claiming that one part of a number is imaginary. How's anyone supposed to get their head's round that?

It reminds me of a freind that told me about one of his lectures in maths. The lecturer stood up and wrote an extremely long, convoluted equation up on the board. Something like:

X=Y2 - MC4 * Y= Z3 / X4 + XY3

and this means that God doesn't actually exist.

All the students, including my friend, looked on in in silence, dumbfounded. Until one lad shouted out another, equally long equation and said,

'Ah, but that proves that God does actually exist'

Who am I to argue with mathematicians who can prove such things with numbers.

Damn Again!

Ok, so I'm very much on a baby theme these days, which may bore a lot of folk but not me, 'cos I'm broody (although really I think I might just be pining for a dog). My baby theme today is baby names. As I always seem to end up working around kids I can't help but notice the trends in baby names. While the celebs all seem intent on giving their kids unique and unusual names the evryday folk are settling for more common names like Jordan, Britney and Paris.

Flower names seem to be in for celebs and non-celebs alike. Must be everyone getting back in line with Mother Nature. Poppy and Daisy and Venus Fly Catcher are all very popular names these days.

As for boys, it's all back to the old-school names like Tom and Ben and Alexander. There may never be another John or David ever again. Ethan and Harry are popular boy's names at the minute but with very few Brad's, Kurt's or Keanu's. Shame. I think I've heard of a couple of Romeo's but I'm gonna pretend that I didn't because the sound of the name makes my ears bleed.

Well, I'm for calling my first born son Seamus after my granda and Jamie. My second born son will be called Jose after the fella that played at our wedding in the woods. My first born daughter will be called Sky Blue after Sky from Neighbours and my second born daughter will be called Medusa. And we'll have two 2 dogs called Rufus and Woody.

Damn!

Damn those little kiddies in the shop where I work every minute of every day of my life (or so it seems). Damn them for being so cute and smiley and happy and funny. Of course you get the howlers that would drive any mum to insanity but when they're cute you could just eat them. I do actually hate myself for saying things like that but in my defense, I honestly can't help it. I'm a woman with womanly hormones that tell me that babies are cute and I should have them as soon as possible.

At the same time I am not fooled by the cuteness of them. I know for a fact that they are hard work and a lot of responsibility. I know that you have to sacrifice precious sleep to tend to a baby who is hungry, or thirsty, or cold, or bored or who knows what? If only they could tell you. As if it's not hard enough feeding, washing and playing with your baby but you have to be able to read it's mind as well.

So having taken all this into consideration and despite their cunteness, I can wait for the babbies. Espescially the giving birth bit. I don't look forward to that atall, or the morning sickness. But I do look forward to the cravings for popcorn and chilli sauce at 4 in the morning and yelling at Jamie 'You have to go to the shop, it's your fault I'm like this'

I Thought As Much

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"Nice doggy."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

So That's Why I'm Always Cold

You Are Iceman

You tried to live a normal life, but it just wasn't possible A bit of a slacker, you rather tell jokes than cultivate your powers Powers: turning self and others into ice, making ice weapons, becoming nearly invisible

Which of the X-Men Are You?

Ha Ha Ha! My Car Is Being Broke Into!

Jamie's Graduation

Top Left - Jamie's gets his scroll from the Main Man

Tp Right - Mr. G and Jamie. Apparently Mr. G does the same pose for every photograph unless you catch him unaware.

Bottom Left - Mr. David Bell and Jamie. David Bell was Head of the Cultural Studies department. David waited 7 years to see Jamie in his cap 'n' gown. You can tell from his expression that he thought it was well worth the wait.

Bottom Right - Twid (Jamie's mum), Morph (jamie's best mate), Jamie (The Graduate), Mr.G (Jamie's old piano teacher), Auntie Margaret (Jamie's Auntie who's not really his auntie).

Big Smiles

Big Smiles
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

Rosie says "The big smiles are because our lovely Auntie Hannah is holding up a stick for us to catch. I like this photo. Paddy would be sooo handsome if it wasn't for that collar."

Paddy says "We like it when our Auntie Hannah and Uncle Jamie take us out for walks. Although I don't understand why it takes Jamie so long to get anywhere in the car. He's always turning around and going back the way he came."

Rosie says " My favourite place to go is Portglenone Forest. It's great chasing all the wee squirrels. Except Jamie and Hannah always take a rest by the pier and me and Paddy get a bit bored waiting for them. We tried sneaking off a few times but Uncle Jamie has eyes in the back of his head and he can be brave and cross-sounding when he wants to be"

Paddy sats " The next time Hannah and Jamie take us out I'm gonna ask them if we can go to the beach. I was looking at them photos of us and Scruff and Bert down at the beach on Nelly's flickr . D'ye mind that Rosie?"

Rosie says "I do. I'm gonna ask Hannah and Jamie if they'll take me up Slemish again. You'll hardly want to go Paddy with your silly back legs all wobbly an all. You'd never be able to climb Slemish"

Paddy says "I could too climb Slemish. Sure aren't I doing a sponsered climb Slemish thing for Scruff's Auntie who's going to do voluntary work in Africa? What are you doing Rosie?"

Rosie says "I'm doing a sponsered 48 hour scunge. No water. No dinner."

Gravy Dave

Gravy Dave
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

The one and only Gravy Dave. Except he's not the one and only because he has also got a mate called Gravy Dave. Gravy Dave has spent so long in Stoke now that you can play 7 degrees of Gravy Dave. He knows everyone. And even the people he doesn't know, he sort of vaguely recognises. He's well known by the local police for getting so drunk he's forgotten how to get home and writing 'beefcake' on people's steamed up car windows.

Gravy Dave can drink for forty nights in a row and survive on less than 5 hours sleep each night. He's sort of like a Jesus. He'll be at every party and social gathering ever organised and he'll always be the last Gravy standing. He's coming to visit us in the late summer and we'll take him to Slemish and he'll ask,

'Is there a pub up there?'

'Yes Gravy Boy, there is.'

The Men Beasts

I'm not sure if my photos will have uploaded properly. Probably not knowing my problems with technology. I did a search on flickr to see if anyone else has a Man Beast. It seems there a quite a few. The pictures you should be looking at are a small selection of these Men Beasts. It seems that there is one rule, and one rule only, for being classed as a Man Beast and that is to wear white vests. That means Jamie is most definitely a real life Man Beast.

No Way Jose

If I wasn't so devoted to my beloved Jamie boy I'd invite Jose Gonzalez round for tea and buns and ask him to marry me. I would get Zoe or Nelly to bake the buns though so that he'd definitely say yes.

I love him. I love his music, his voice, his accent, his name. When Jo Whiley asked him what he did with all the balls people chucked at him on-stage he said 'I just throw them back at them and hit them in their face' So sweet.

Since I can't marry him, being devoted to Jamie and all that, I want him to play at our wedding in the woods. It's a shame he's so popular. It kind of puts me off him a little but I'm a bit stuck for people to play at my wedding. Georgie Harrison's dead, Brad Nowell from Sublime is dead, Courtney Love would be too high on drugs and stealing my limelight. I won't let Jamie's band Dragon play because it's his wedding night and he'll be dancing in the woods with me.

So Jose will have to do.

What to do?

I need some advice. I'm rotten with a head cold. Symptoms include: blocked nose, splitting head-ache, general feeling of lethargy and an intolerance to loud high pitched noises, like screaming babies. My line manager asked me if I wanted to go home today and I, like the fool that I am, said I was ok. Good thing that I did though as we were busy today and already two men down. It was hard on me though and I'm suffering for it now. My manager let me home 15 minutes early (she's a good woman that one) and told me if I was still feeling bad this evening to phone in later tonight to let them know if I wasn't coming in.

So do I phone them? A day off tommorrow would be so nice. But it's only been about 3 weeks since I was last off sick. And although I do feel poorly I am actually physically capable of working and feel like I'm just being a big wuss. What to do? I'm not used to taking days off work due to sickness. When I did student support I was self-employed so if I didn't work I didn't get paid (although this wasn't always strictly true but you know what them students are like). With it being term-time work and part time, money was always tight so if I was sick I'd do the hours anyway. Except for once when I was dying so badly from a hangover a student sent me home. He was very sweet about it and even offered me the bus fare so I didn't have to walk home.

I have 3 hours to decide whether or not I should go to work tomorrow. I feel a little better now but surely that's because I'm resting and if I wake up early tomorrow I'll probably feel worse. If I do I could still phone in but if I did it tonight I could have a proper lie-in. Or I could just go in tomorrow and keep my sick days for when I really need them because like the ever pessimistic, hypochondriac that I am, I'm sure to get really ill sometime in the near future.

Poor Jamie

Poor Jamie. He graduated on Monday and had a lovely day making his momma proud and posing about in his gown and hat and eating posh nosh only to go back to his car, which had been broken into. Poor Jamie. He has had serious bad luck with this car. Gear boxes and doors and things that I can't remember the names of. Just one thing after the other.

I wonder if it's because he's so superstitous. He always mumbles something when he sees a magpie. I, on the other hand, am completely unsuperstitious. Can't be bothered with them. Too many to remember. Don't step on a crack, don't split posts. I swear it gets to the point where people are just making these things up and people won't eat pasta on every 3rd Thursday of every month because it's bad luck.

I think it's all back to front. The things that are meant to bring you bad luck bring you good luck, and vice versa. On my way to work this morning I walked under a ladder. I was sent home half an hour early. Maybe jamie needs to break some mirrors or something to have some good luck with his car for a change.

Poor Jamie

Poor Jamie. He graduated on Monday and had a lovely day making his momma proud and posing about in his gown and hat and eating posh nosh only to go back to his car, which had been broken into. Poor Jamie. He has had serious bad luck with this car. Gear boxes and doors and things that I can't remember the names of. Just one thing after the other.

I wonder if it's because he's so superstitous. He always mumbles something when he sees a magpie. I, on the other hand, am completely unsuperstitious. Can't be bothered with them. Too many to remember. Don't step on a crack, don't split posts. I swear it gets to the point where people are just making these things up and people won't eat pasta on every 3rd Thursday of every month because it's bad luck.

I think it's all back to front. The things that are meant to bring you bad luck bring you good luck, and vice versa. On my way to work this morning I walked under a ladder. I was sent home half an hour early. Maybe jamie needs to break some mirrors or something to have some good luck with his car for a change.

I have must have this look on my face that says 'anyone working for a charitable organisation please approach me and I will give you all my money' I never do though. I always have some excuse about being a student, or having a crap job and then I quickly divert attention by asking them how I could get a job working for their organisation. Today it was the Amnesty International. Don't they know I don't care about people I only care about the animals and the treeeeees.

Anyway, it got me thinking about charity and all that. Obviously I do care about people and would like to do my bit to help. But I have a phobia about setting up Direct Debits and giving my bank details to some organisation so they can take money out of my account every month and this includes charities. I have always popped spare change into charity boxes and I rarely accept a sticker (see, that is charity). But at the end of the day you can give all the money you have in the world to charity and still not feel like you're really helping. It's like it's too easy to put your hand in your pocket or something.

So that means volunteering. Me and Jamie were gonna volunteer for an animal sanctuary but we were put off by the main woman who was an ice maiden. Does that make us bad, uncaring people? She was really horrible. But surely if we really cared about the wee animals we would have looked past that? Well, we didn't. We'll just find another sanctuary to work for.

Words of Advice

I've just been over at Nelly's Garden and Ma Nelly (my granny) has been guest blocking. Bosoms being her chosen subject, and how best to dress them. I have to say though, her advice is a little out-dated. These days woman are less likely to want to attract mummy-loving, welly-boot wearing farmer boys who read Ireland's Own and more likely to want to attract the wrong sort of man. This would be a more modern day approach to bosoms.

The first rule is to show as much cleavage as possible. This means wearing low cut top, shirts with all top 6 buttons undone, two belts or just a bra. If you aren't well-endowed and haven't got much of a cleavage there are ways to cheat. Wonderbras, push up bras, balcony bras, magic bras or chicken fillets will all give you the appearance of having more of a bust. However, think about how disappointed your man will be when he undresses you. Really the only thing to do is get a breast enlargement.

The second rule is to always be alert. This means that if your you-know-whats aren't standing to attention you should immediately place yourself in a cool area, such as a walk-in freezer. This is harder during the warmer seasons so you'll have to rely mainly on your cleavage or alternatively, you could flash them. Golden rules: You should always draw attention to your bosoms. You should always stick out your chest when talking to men. You should always show a bit of cleavage and a bit of leg. Remember, your bosoms are your weapon, attack and conquer with them. No man, especially the wrong type of man, can resist the womanly charms of your heaving bust.

Wouldn't It Be Great.....

Wouldn't it be great if you never got tired? If you never had to wake up before you wanted to? Wouldn't it be great if you never had to go to shitty work? Wouldn't it be great if you never had to do anything you didn't want to do? Wouldn't it be great if there were never any deadlines, no clocks or calandars to restrict your life? Wouldn't it be great if there were never any disputes? No fighting, hurting, back-stabbing or witch-hunting. Wouldn't it be great if there were no taxes, no bills? If money didn't rule the world wouldn't it be marvellous?

But why can't it be like that? We all seem to think that we do have to do all the things we don't want to. We do have to work because we do need money. We need money to buy all the things that make us function as a human being. Except all that we need to function is to eat, drink and sleep and occasionally breed. Nothing more and nothing less.

Yet we all seem to think that we do need more. We need those Levi's and that make-up and the pop corn and hair-dryers. We need them to survive. We need those magazines to tell us how to look and act because we have no concept of ourselves. We need those films to take us to another time and space because we have no concept of imagination. We need those clocks and calandars to tell us where to be and when because we don't understand what freedom means. We have lost the ability to trust nature to tell us when to sleep and when to wake.

But on the bright side, oh how we've progressed! Oh how civilised we are now! How much more we can do now! How much freer and kinder and wiser we are now. Oh how learned we are now and, oh how powerful we are now! Oh how we've progressed.

But have we progressed or is science merely just catching up with the changing effects of the world? Are humans really more civilised or is it just that those in power lead us to believe we are so we are easier to control? And are we so much more freer and kinder and wiser? Sometimes it really doesn't seem it.

Jamie's Beautiful Long Flowing Locks

The Clippers

Oh Fuck!

It's Gonna Get Me

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!

Oh My God!

It's Over

Yes! I did it!!! I found the 7th magic fish and now it's finally over. It's a relief but I wonder if I'll feel that empty hollow feeling you get after finishing a really good book. Now my obsession is over I can string up my geetar and start playing again. I can go to the shops and buy film for my camera and start taking pictures again. I can send emails to all the people I've been meaning to send to for ages. I can post Mel's birthday present thats now 2 weeks over due (sorry mel). I can go on Amazon and order dad a present for Father's day. I can phone the bastard bank and yell at them for being useless. The world is my oyster.

The Hippies Win Again

A friend sent an excerpt from a magazine he read about the recent drugs law changes applied to magic mushrooms and, most importantly, the new loop-holes to avoid getting done. The law used to state that it was a criminal offence to be found in possession of prepared magic mushrooms, meaning 'shrooms that were dried or infused. Now it states that even picking the mushroom is classed as preparing it and can make you liable for up to seven years in prison. If you pick it and give it to someone this can lead to life imprisonment. Insane.

But, if you picked it and did not know it to be a magic mushroom, then that's ok. And if you picked it with the sole intention of giving to the authorities to destroy, then that's ok too. So if you are caught with 'prepared' mushrooms and you hand it over to the policeman and say 'I picked these to give to you so they could be destroyed' then you're fine and dandy. Although if your dressed in a long flowing tie-dye skirt and a potato sack with a big joint hanging from your mouth, you might want to get a good lawyer.

The thing is, the law is so elusive how could they ever really do you? And why would they want to bother?

When The Cat's Away The Mouse Will Play........

Fish Tycoon!

No, seriously, this game is beginning to ruin my life. It all started off as a bit of fun. Jamie thought it was boring and I thought it was dead good. I wish it had stayed that way. See Jamie has more time to play it than I do so it wasn't long before he was breeding more fish than me, selling more, earning more money. He is also a much more methodical and organised fish breeder than I am and so his game is less stressful than mine. Now that he is away for a few days I am catching up but I just wish it was over. I am bored of fish. I want my life back. I have one more maagic fish to find and then that's me. I'll sell up and start doing normal things again, like talking to people.

Fish Tycoons

It's strange what it can do to a body when they have no TV. At first me and Jamie survived vy downloading the entire second series of Lost and watching it on the computer. Oooh those others are nasty pieces of work. But after that ended there was a void that needed to be filled. I started playing a game called Fish Tycoon. At first Jamie huffed and puffed and told me it was the most boring game ever. But he had a void that needed filling too. He started to play the game as well. Now we are both hopelessly and utterly addicted to buying, breeding and selling fish. Even as I write this now I'm taking breaks to feed my newborns.

We love our fishies but we aren't complete saddos and have been making the most of the good weather. I woke up late for work the other morning and phoned in sick as I couldn't deal with the rush to get there. I phoned later to say I would be in the next day and was told to take it off as I sounded so poorly. So me and Jamie spent the day at White Rocks beach and Jamie reckoned he could swim all the way out to the rocks but claimed it was too cold when I dared him. Another day, he says. I'm holding him to it. Today was spent taking Zoe's terrible twosome for a walk along the river path in Ballymena and this evening was spent taking Nelly's terrible twosome a walk along the river path in Cully. Nelly will be reassured that while she's away cavorting in London me and Jamie have tired the dogs out enough that they won't have energy for scunging.

Bad Dogs

The past few mornings have been total hell getting up for work. Yesterday I woke up with a cramp in my leg and fell on the floor. This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and moaned angrily at my alarm. Jamie, sensing my unhappiness at waking up, told me I was lovely and I told him to shut up. I then squealed when I saw a spider in the bath and made Jamie get up and remove it. He let it fall on the ground and I yelled at him. He called me a mentalist and I called him a bastard. It's not that I don't like spiders I just don't like them in the bath with me.

Tomorrow morning I'm for having a super duper long lie in, maybe sleep for 10 or 12 hours. My body needs it. I can feel it. I've been told it's gonna be 23 degrees tomorrow so I'll persuade Jamie to take me somewhere nice. Maybe kidnap a dog or two from Nelly's, stop them from trotting down the Dreen Rd. on their tods. Jamie told me he saw them scunging down the main road with not a care in the world, cars swerving to avoid them. I reckons they got bored of the fields and were away down for a dander along the river path.

Hurray For Pirate John!

Pirate John, also known as John of the Wild, and his crew will be coming to visit us soon. This means fun times. John has an amazing sense of adventure and is very brave, although not as brave as Jamie The Brave, (aka Jamie from Wolstanton). John is the guy who takes me and Jamie on holidays to Scotland and Wales and the Lake District. He is the one who organised a treasure hunt for us in Manchester. And he is the uncle of Mandark, a horrid and depraved creature but whom John loves anyway cos he's like that.

When Pirate John and his crew come to visit we will climb mountains and swim lochs. We will not need to fear the loch monsters as John and Jamie are well versed in battling them. I have told John there are polar bears in Ireland, only in the North of the North of Ireland. He will want to see them. So he can scare them away for us.

He'll be bringing Captain Tor with him so we'll go to Torr Head and Tor can stand proudly as a captain would and scream into the waves of the crashing sea. After that we might go to Barry's at Portrush and take Pirate John on the Pirate Ship.

Perfect Melancholy

Yesterday I got sent home from work early. The reason being that I lost the head with an irate customer and told her to fuck off! Of course I didn't though. No, the store isn't meeting targets so they're desperate to cut hours. I could've said 'No, my contract clearly states that I am to work 35 hours a week and I am entitled to work them' but the sun was shining and I could think of a million better ways to spend the day. Like chairty shop shopping.

Me and Butter Face did the rounds with me whinging the whole time for him to hurry up. He could spend hours in a charity shop whereas I can spend no longer than 5 minutes. It's the same in TK Maxx. Jamie can trawl through their rails all day while I look at 3 things, hate them all and decide that everything in the shop is crap. I just don't have the patience to seek out the one good thing in amongst all the toot.

Jamie did well. He got himself a new shirt, trousers, shoes and a tie and some books for his mum that she'd already read. I also got a book called Personality Plus. It's one of them books that gives you lists of words and asks you to choose what one is most like you and then all the words you choose determine which personality type you are. You know the type of book that claims there are only 4 different types of people in the whole world and you will all fall into either one of these categories. I am a Perfect Melancholy: The Introvert The Thinker The Pessimist. Imagine how chuffed I was to find this out. This basically means I am an uptight moody cow who is insecure and has high standards for myself and for others. The book also says that a typical Perfect Melancholy will say things like that. On the other hand, I am faithful and devoted, sensitive to others and appreciative of beauty. So I'm not all bad.

Moonboots and Louie

That last post was meant to show a picture of the scunge dog square pants herself but alas! I am no good. Just a while ago I mentioned a character called Ernie Moonboots, or The Sheriff, as others know him. We hadn't even been living in our brand spanking new house for a week when we received a letter through the post that read:

Mr. Hornblower

Please stop playing your trumpet or we'll be calling to see you.

Tony will be calling with the boys and he'll stick that trumpet up your English arse.

You'll be little boy black and blue when we're done with you.

I'm an old man that's why I've reported you to the boys. Liver Lip Louie will see to it.

Me and Jamie were surprised considering he'd hardly played his trumpet and all the neighbours seemed to be quite nice. The girl next door told us it was Ernie Moonboots and that he'd sent letters to other people in street. He's just a mad old man who lives with no electricity. He's got a malicious streak but Tony and the boys won't be calling to stick Jamie's trumpet up his arse. I always see him hanging about broadway with Liver Lip Louie and I always make sure I look really happy as I'm passing him so he knows that his ridiculous letter doesn't bother us.

Scunge Dog Square Pants

If you've been over at Nelly's garden you will know that poor oul Rosie has been suffering from dental problems. Her and Jamie Half Smile are bonding over this . We were out to see her the other day and the poor wee thing wasn't herself. Paddy of course was revelling in this and took the role of Top Dog upon himself with great authority. We'll go and visit her a spell today and I'm sure she'll be back to her old scunge dog square pants self.

My Ongoing Feud With Natwest

Moms would be so proud of me. I phoned up the nasty Natwest credit card people today to dutifully pay off some of my bill and was told that I couldn't make a card payment over the phone. Well then, says I, why was it I was given this number to make card payments in the future? I don't know, says the lackie, but it was incorrect. Me and the lackie debated a while until I called his company corrupt and he took exception to this and passed me to a manager. The manager told me the exact same bullshit as the lackie, telling me that even if they took a card payment today it would still be a late payment as it takes 3 days to process and my due date was today. I informed him that I'd phoned up 2 weeks ago to make payment over the phone and was told it was too soon to take payment, not that they couldn't take payment over the phone but it was too soon. So after ranting and raving about how poorly trained their operatives are and how there was no other way I could make payment he finally gave in and accepted a card payment. And when I huffed about how it didn't matter as they would still charge me for late payment he said he would block the fee as well. It pays to be a pain in the arse.

Fitting Rooms and Runny Noses

Jamie Half Smile is back on line which means I'm back on line too. Yippee. This means being able to stay in touch with my friends, playing literati, updating flickr and most importantly, watching Neighbours. Even though it's poor quality and a bit fuzzy. Half Smile is so chuffed he's almost got a full smile.

Now that I'm back on line I can share some of the delightful things I've been hearing about recently. A girl who works down in the ladies department walked into one of the fitting rooms and found that someone had left a used tampon there. Not only that but she'd wiped her hand on the curtain. I'm sure in all other parts of the country the clientele in Next are a lot less disgusting but you can be sure in Ballymena there's always some dirty bitch who's sense of humour or downright laziness has be be seriously questioned. Another girl told me that she once found pooh in the men's fitting rooms. When I asked her if it was adult's or kid's pooh she said, 'Kid's pooh. I hope!'

I was telling this to a couple of people in the pub and this guy was like, cool, that's a good idea, shitting in the fitting rooms. So there are people out there who's minds work in dark ways. That same guy told me the most horrific story about someone being disgusting. So horrific he was almost sick when he was telling us. You know how kids get really runny, snotty noses? Well his mum knew a lady who would suck up the snot from her kid's nose and then spit it into a hanky. That's proper stomach churning behaviour. Probably the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. Yet.

It's been so long since I last updated i don't know where to begin. I live in a new house, I'm a year older and a year wiser, I got a promotion, I've developed an obsessive compulsion over cleaning products, I've got drunk with friends old and new, Jamie Half Smile shaved all his hair off and I have been on a never ending mission to find the perfect jeans. Our new house is fantastic. All our neighbours are lovely except for Ernie Moonboots. But that's a story for another time.

Me and Jamie are surviving without TV and the net. Living without TV isn't so bad but poor Jamie is finding it hard without his beloved broadband. We joined the local Extra Vision but that turned out to be a bad idea as Jamie became addicted to renting DVDs. Everytime he left one back he'd bring home another one. I fell alseep through every one of them. Apart from Kung Pow which I highly recommend. The lead female role's voiceover sounds like Miss Piggy.

The sun has been shining in Ballymena for a whole week now. It's made everything seem a lot fluffier and even though I've been working most days I've been making good use of the evenings. On Monday we dogsat Gracie and took her for a walk. The poor thing was expecting a pleasant walk by the river but I couldn't find my way and she ended up being taken down a horrible alleyway hootchin with midgies and then across a horrible bridge that was hootchin with midgies and with broken glass all over the ground. She didn't even get to chase a ball across the green by the fire station because a horrible big dog was running at her. I bet her mummy never lets me look after Gracie again.

The Jigsaw Is Complete

Phew! It's been a helluva busy week. Last weekend Dad and the Loverly Linda were visiting so Zoe entertained them by taking them on an open-top guided bus tour around Belfast. I came along for the ride and was kept amused by the guide's jokes about the IRA, the Provisional IRA, the Real IRA, Caffeine Free IRA and the I Can't Beleive It's Not The IRA.

Zoe drove us back to her's where we met up with Nelly and Bertram for a big feed of Indian. I had to laugh at Bert and Dave who were dabbing the sweat form their necks and whose faces were going bright red while Nelly and the Loverly Linda sat perfectly composed through the scoffings of Balti's and Vindaloo's. Then Zoe brought out her famous Chocolate Guinness Cake

Later on the week Nelly and I did some house-hunting which proved to be a total pain in the arse with dodgy dickhead's and precious snobs who didn't want granny's house reeking of fags. Well, don't worry, Granny's house is safe from us as we have found a much nicer, sweeter house where the land lord don't care if we smoke or not as long as we pay the rent. As it should be. We found the house the first day Jamie got here which I thought was sort of miraculous cosidering. We have been kindly donated furniture and a bed, we're moving in this week and when jamie gets himself all broadbanded up we'll finally have a home. All is good and I'm happy.

Although Jamie made it here in one piece sadly the wee gear box in his car didn't. He drove from Dumfries to Cullybackey with only 3rd and 4th gear functioning. Luckily Ploppy Pants is on the case. He's my brand new hero. Jamie that is, not Ploppy Pants.

On Friday night we went out with Nelly and Bert to meet Mr and Mrs Toaster. Although I'd met Mr Toaster I'd never met his wife who was pretending to be herself and was absolutely lovely. I ended up getting quite drunk by drinking not only all my own Jameson's but also all of Jamie's aswell. And now I have a whole week off work to make my new house beautiful. I have my big strong handsome man to keep me warm at night. Everything has just fallen exactly in to place just when it needed to so I'm a very happy girly.

Not Smart Enough

Yay!! I've finally updated flickr. It took me a while but it just goes to show how clever I can be when I'm patient. But not so clever that I can add an image to this post. Still, I'm pretty chuffed with myself. I used up my whole 100% in one go. Luckily it's the end of the month.

Happy Days

I don't take my horoscope very seriously unless it's a good one and then it most certainly must be true. My horoscope for this week was a good 'un. I won't tell you where it's from as it's difficult enough to prove the credibility of them without telling you which trashy mag it's been in. Anyway, just because a magazine is trashy doesn't mean it can't be profound:

If you were a tree, you'd be a sapling right now. The first shoots of the new you are comng through, but your branches are still tender and young. You're almost certainly feeling like you have it in you to grow bigger. Enjoy the new feeling - but don't overdo it. There's yet another amazing growth spurt just round the corner. This is an an excellent time for Aries with adventure on their minds. You have heavenly support - you just need to be sure of what you want. Once you've worked that out, the skies are going to do all they can to send you flying into the furture and heading towards making things happen.


So, I am only a sapling right now. It explains the teenage spots and why I was asked what age I am buying cigarette papers!! It is an excellent time for Aries with adventure on the minds. I always have adventure on my mind but luckily I am easily pleased when it comes to adventures and I take this to mean my new house with Jamie. Making things happen. This is probably one of my favourite sentence's ever. I like things to happen although only if they're good things.

I have waded through the mire and once again am feeling positive about things. Nelly is being ace with helping me to organise my new house and everyone is rooting for me. Some folk think I'm mad for turnng down rent free accomodation in a big beautiful house in the countryside with foxes and buzzards, but I am at the age where buzzards and foxes are cool but not as cool as going to the pub with yr mate for a drink. I know I will miss living with Bert and Nelly but I am used to being a sea away from them so a ten minute car journey will seem like nothing. There is lots to be happy about. It is Spring and the days are growing.

How Evil Am I?

I couldn't resist doing the wee test. Unfortunately I'm not cunning enough to post the link, or at least not at this time of the morning, but my result was that I am 38% evil. A bit of evil lurks in my heart but I hide it well. Apparently I am the most dangerous kind of evil.

Boring,Depressing and Miserable

That's me!!I'm finding it really hard to maintain this blog at the minute. It's because I've been so busy doing all the things on the list in the previous post. I haven't managed to take up knitting yet though Zoe.

Nah, it's because everything I write at the minute is pure dung. It's either boring, depressing, sentimental nonsense or it's just not funny enough. If I was a writer I'd call it writer's block but I'm not so it's probably just a block shoved up my arse. I don't want my blog to end up being a space where I just bitch and moan about the world. On the other hand though, it's my blog and I should use it for whatever the hell I want to. I also worry about giving too much of myself away but fuck it, that's the kind of person I am.

Work is probably the most depressing thing in my life. All through Christmas I really tried to stay positive about it and when people asked how it was going I lied and said it was fine. Now I feel like quitting at least five times a week, which is every day I'm there. When I say I'm can't take anymore of something it is normally after weeks of pretending that I can cos I don't like to give up easily. So when I say I've had enough I've had more than enough. It got so bad that I even very very briefly was considering a career in the police force. I think if I spend much longer there I will have nothing left to offer the world.

I was telling my mum a while ago that although I'm 23 I feel like I'm 43. I have no social life and I rarely hang out with anyone my own age at the minute. I have people that I could visit in Belfast but no impetus to see them because of how I'm feeling. I miss my boyfriend like crazy and I miss my people. I miss my old job, my lifestyle, everything. I don't think I want to go back because it wasn't perfect there. Nowhere is. I miss being me though and doing what I do.