Attempt to Run; Smear Chocolate on Self

I just ran up to the bathroom, and against my own advice looked at myself in the mirror, and noted that the chocolate icecream I had been inhaling downstairs is now, inexplicably, all over my neck.  Why why why?   And all this as I sit across from a picture of Dita Von Teese.  Sigh.

The icecream comes hot on the heels of some bad job news, I got a job, then they withdrew it, as they don’t need me anymore.  Major sigh.  I have come straight to Mammy’s, and had fried food with her and Papabear, and then inhaled icecream, as it is my favourite dessert.

Lest it sound pig-like, I will also have you know that I have been out walking and exercising several times each week in the last few weeks, and yesterday I even attempted running!  Wonderful timing on my part, as there was for some reason, a full gale force wind going on, which may sound awful, but it wasn’t sleeting and hailstorming and rain, and I could see a blue sky, so I went straight out into it.  I walked outside the door of our apartment block and my baseball hat was immediately blown off.  I did consider not chasing it, as this was not part of the exercise plan, but I really needed it, because it meant my hair had now blown fully into my face, and seeing in front of me was becoming an issue.  So I ran after it, retrieved it, and ventured out into the cruel cold world.  Please note this was NOT the running I was referring to, although it should count, as I did trot about the carpark chasing the hat, so it was at the very least, a warm up.  Ha!

Anyway, whilst doing my usual ”round” I felt extra bouncy and decided to give the old running a go.  I had ten euro in the right boob part of my bra (to stop at the shops afterwards, and buy the Sunday papers, after I sweated all over the counters and scared off the children), and my walkman (to encourage fast walking with 80’s pop music) stuck into my left boob, so everything was secure and ready for action.  I began to run, and immediately had to lean forward, towards the ground, to stay on my two feet, such was the might of the gale force winds.  I then began to worry about my hat again, so for extra sexiness, I pulled my hoodie over my head and tied it beneath my double chins, and attempted to run that way.  Unfortunately this ”look” is flattering to no-one, least of all to a 37 and seven eighths year old woman with no makeup, sunstroke (as we had some extremely weak sunrays pushing through, and I have no experience of this, so I was quite red) and leaning forward in the aforementioned unattractive manner.  Luckily, the White Bright Light running man I spotted some weeks ago was nowhere to be seen (I think) so I haven’t ruined my chances just yet.  But give me time.  I will.  I always do.

Thirty seconds later and I was heartattacking, panting and wheezing, but still on two feet, so I’m getting better.  I even looked up proper running shoes on the internet to help with my sloping foot which affects my gammy knee, so it’s getting serious.  Luckily the Olympics are a hop skip and wheezy jump across the pond in London; by June I should be marching through the opening ceremony, Irish tri-colour in hand, ready to do my country proud.  Or – maybe not.  Maybe I should just down pints in the pub with everybody else and watch Ireland in the football instead.  Hmmm.  Either way drink should be involved, which brings me to my next point – I need to start drinking again.  It had been several weeks since my last sup, and on Saturday night, filled with rage and general grumpiness, myself and Lilsister downed a couple of bottles of our beloved prosecco, which caused Lilsister to fall asleep and leave me and Scarydancer up discussing the merits of German versus Czech beer.  However, I woke up with an awful headache the next day, and I conclude that this is due to the fact that I have not kept up with my regular drinking, meaning I have become weak, and pathetic, and sober.

It stops here.

Wine, beer and spirits must once again enter my life, or I will become like a child – unable to handle the drink.  We have Ireland in the olympics, the European football and the Gaelic Football season all about to begin, and here am I, clear headed and not slurring – it will not do!!!  It WILL NOT DO!!!

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Cabbage

Came down the stairs this morning to discover Mammy had left TWO messages on a pot containing ham  – peel potatoes, and at 3.30pm boil, then simmer aforementioned ham.  Great.  We’re having ham and cabbage for dinner today – another great reason to be in Ireland.  The ham and cabbage is great (yeah Germany you heard me.  Stop pickling yours!!!).

Papabear began talking of a ”friend” of his.  ”He’s a bit John Dimple,” he says.  ”Not the full shilling but not a cabbage.”

This was post eppo-fits had by Papabear in quick succession this morning.  First fit came after Lilsister called to complain about the set up of buying the season tickets for the Dubs matches in 2012.  Bit early in the day (and year) to be worrying about such stuff, but I’m a calm person, I can handle it, I thought.

LilSister emailed, texted and then called to say she would NOT buy season tickets until we could confirm we would all be sitting together as Charlie would not sit with Carl and she did not want to be left alone with Papabear at a match (him being mad abusive and all).  This from the girl who had to be TORN away from kicking the crap out of a Cork woman in 2010 cause she kept pulling on her Dublin jersey.  Fair enough to start on the Cork Cow but it was a tense match and we needed all our powers of concentration to get through the match, to will them on and all.

Anyway I know nothing about these season ticket purchases so went to discuss the matter with Papabear who threw a fit and said he didn’t understand anything and there was no point talking to Charlie cause they’re as thick as each other and he would ring Charlie who would ring Carl who would be TOLD to ring LilSister.  This was very confusing for me so I said I would ring Carl as Carl has normal brain functionality but Dad didn’t have his number so it meant going back to LilSister and her mood swings to get this.  This then brought forth fit no 2 which was about the telly not ommitting any sound – I tried the telly remote and the sky remote and no joy.  Fit fit fit and general badmouthing of LilSister for bringing up difficult subjects like seating at football matches in 2012.  Cue bashing of both remotes and the sound of the telly being turned on and off ”doo doo doo doo” noise when telly came back on, and grumblings of ”the next sound you’ll hear will be the bastarding thing being fucked out the window”.

I rang Mammy to ask if she knew how to resolve the situation and she declared that Papabear had probably ”sat” on the remote in a funny way and pressed a button.  No help.  She did suggest turning the telly on and off and then reefing out all the plugs for a minimum of five mintues.  I told Papabear this and no idea if he did it or not but as I passed by his room some minutes later I was informed through the closed door that all was well.  TV has been reinstated as the official favourite thing in the house, and viewing pleasure has recommenced.  Doo doo doo doo.

Back to shops today in vain effort to find cheap Christmas presents.  Failed miserably.  Too many people and still smarting from visiting the other day when a teenaged person stood in my way with a brochure saying ”there you go ma’am” like I was some old biddy receiving a free gift.  Bitch!!!  Or maybe she meant it like ”mam” and I look haggard enough to be her mother.  Either way, she is buried in the carpark, resting on a bed of brochures.

Came home to find Papabear still waving arms wildly about his head in relation to season tickets and seating issues.  Tried to ring Carl but am still waiting on him to get back to me.  Ate day old garlic bread and took two headache tablets.

LilSister complaining that when she turned around at her desk in work (everyone sits behind her for some reason) to declare that they are all ”retards” nobody said anything.  Have concluded that everyone is terrified of her, and that she needs a smack.

Have no deep or interesting feelings today, excepting sore neck from long haul flight home couple of weeks ago, but this is hardly worth talking about.  Besides it is nearly 3pm and I need to go and think about peeling the potatoes before Mammy comes home and beats me.