And what a weekend it’s going to be!  Birthdays, tattoos, and mayhaps some groveling………………….

Atlanta G’s birthday is Saturday so I’ll be stepping up to the plate and making sure she gets well & truly sozzled.  If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say we’ll be at the Watering Hole if anyone wants to help her celebrate!  It’s Cuteboy’s birthday tomorrow so I’ll have to make an appearance and sling a shot or two his way. 

Tomorrow also sees me finally getting the Celtic cross tattoo I’ve been diddering over for the last year, and also getting an outline added to an existing tattoo.  After that I might pop off to catch a friend’s gig and allow some grovel time - I’m not the one doing the groveling, which is why I’m so willing to devote time to this!  It’s nice being right! 

Mr. Manchester has long proclaimed his lack of skills when it comes to shooting pool.  Last night, I decided to challenge said skills, or lack thereof, to a game of pool.

I got hustled!

It’s not funny!  Well played though, Mr. M!

The men of the (2) Watering Holes I frequent can all be classed into a few different groups:

The Starers: They won’t approach you, they’ll make no attempt to speak to you and they’ll take the “scenic route” in the pub - aka the long way to the bathroom - to avoid being in your general vicinity. 

The Marrieds: Not that it matters to half of them that they’re married - within the confines of those 4 walls, anything goes.

The Lounge Lizards: They believe that every female in the place wants them; they like to pose, carefully choosing the best spot from which to preen, whilst waiting for the hoards of women to fling themselves at them.  Patient bastards, the lot of them!

The Clueless Ones: These are the ones we actually want to talk to and once we get to talk to them, we’d like to see them again.  Alas, these poor fools have no idea (or maybe they really do and are plotting their escape………that’s another post though!).

The Idiots: You know the sort - loud, obnoxious types, with the “I’m so much better than you” mindset.  They like to toss out how much money they make, tell you all about the dangerous missions they undertook while in the Navy, how they’re brilliant & wonderful, and how you missed out on a great catch!

The Touchers: Hair, hands, legs, small of your back, it doesn’t really matter.  As long as they get to rub off you in any way, they’re happy.  Meanwhile all you can think of is jumping into a hot shower……….alone!

Anyone got anything to add?  Any of the men care to make a rebuttal??

Do men fall into the category of bunny boilers or is that splendid term solely reserved for women?

I think it takes a certain amount of smarts to be a full fledged bunny boiler.  Looking at my exes, God bless ‘em, most of them just aren’t smart enough to be bunny boilers.  Some are, but thankfully we parted on good terms and boiling wasn’t necessary!

How much fun would it be to take on the persona of a bunny boiler and scare the absolute Bejaysus out of someone?!  I bet I could do it!  I bet I’d be very very good at it too! 

1. Never ever put clean sheets on your bed on a Sunday…………come Monday morning you won’t want to get out of bed!
2. Never trust a dog around a plate of food or a bag of potato chips
3. Never let the local idiot speak to you or you’ll never get rid of him
4. Never use soap as a substitute for shaving cream
5. Never forget to stand up for yourself

Folks, there’s just a mere 181 days left til 2009!  Which means in another 60 days or so, they’ll start dragging out the Christmas crap in all the stores!  Aren’t ye all just giddy with excitement and anticipation?!

There’s truly nothing better than a 3 day weekend (except maybe a 4 day weekend!) to make ya grin

A full 3 days with absolutely nothing on the agenda - not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing!  We could head up to the lake, we could head up to Helen and go tubing on the river, we could arrange a cook-out and invite friends to join us.  Will any of that happen??? 

No

There’s a fine line between having a joke with someone and being completely inappropriate.  Everybody is different, and what might offend you may not offend me.  But there’s always one who has a knack for offending everyone.  

Watching a friend put a guy in his place last night during trivia was highly amusing.  I felt a pang of envy watching her handle a situation that has left me cringing on numerous occasions - I just don’t have the balls to whip around and tell him to fuck off.  Not sure why - the fact that he’s older than me maybe and I should respect my elders……….but allowing him to toss out his comments without telling him he’s out of order shows a complete lack of self-respect on my part. 

And I wish I could say that it was only comments but there’s the leering and the unwelcome touching to take into consideration as well.  Makes for a lovely evening!!  I enjoy trivia nights but have started recruiting friends to tag along - subjecting my girl friends to the same torment I’ve had to endure.  Sorry gals!

We ventured to the Watering Hole afterwards for Mitch Bu’Cannon’s (Boom!!) last night behind the bar; before long word got out about the incident earlier and praise was being heaped on her for standing up to him.  The guys were saying that they’ve heard some of the comments he’s made to me and it was about time he got told off. 

In all certainty, his behavior won’t change.  At least towards me.  He was definitely better behaved towards her last night after she told him off.  Is it too late for me to put my foot down around him - have I given him too much leeway at this point?

What’s on your bucket list?  Your wish list of things to do before you die?  I’m sure I’ll change this as time goes on, but for right now here’s my wish list!

1. Visit Australia
2. Tour the US
3. Tour Europe
4. Go Skydiving
5. Take a hot air balloon ride
6. Visit the pyramids
7. Get back in touch with old school friends
8. Take a cruise
9. Go parasailing
10. Swim with dolphins

Anyone else want to play along???

Women, by nature, are analytical creatures.  Every situation, gesture, and comment are stored away for indepth review later on, usually with a girlfriend.  We compare people and situations; something a rational mind would know to be the wrong move.  But I’ve never claimed to be rational!

We invent scenarios, and the obligatory “what if’s” are tossed around, adding fuel to a non-existent fire.  We can take one little comment/situation to convince ourselves that So&So is head over heels in love with us, or that So&So is running around cheating on us, or that So&So is just passing the time with us until an “upgrade” comes along.

Is there some genetic definiency that won’t allow us to just relax and enjoy the moment?  Why must we analyze each and every situation?  And we do so without knowing the full story.  If everything seems perfect, we search for the flaw.  We allow random comments from friends, family, and acquaintances to cloud our judgement.  We allow an ex to get the upper hand, whether they’re present or not, and have mini-breakdowns. 

Why not just accept things at face value?  No delving for more.  But we do - we keep digging and digging………….I just wish I knew what we were digging for!

So the Spears family has grown once again; isn’t that just the bestest news you’ve heard this week? 

The whole teen pregnancy thing is in the news again today, with the revelation that a group of teen girls made a pact to get themselves knocked up.  And so far, 17 (all under the age of 16) have succeeded.  Am I missing something here?  I devote my time & energy to ensure I don’t get knocked up, and there’s people out there making pacts to get knocked up so they can all raise their kids at the same time?!

Do these girls actually realize the sacrifice you make when you have a baby?  The sleepless nights?  The financial responsibility? The life changing path that is a struggle for any single mother - teen or otherwise.  Or is it just another fashion accessory to them?  Will the grandparents-to-be end up shouldering most of the responsibility?

I wonder how my parents would have reacted had I made such a pact with my friends when I was 16.  Thankfully, we’ll never know!   

I appear to be in a list-making mood again today.  So for your reading pleasure, here’s a list of inappropriate comments that I’ve either had directed at me or have overheard:

1. Is your boyfriend out of town?  I can tell by your walk you haven’t been serviced.
2. Mexicans all live together cos they can’t afford anything else.
3. What would it take for you to wear tighter britches?  I can’t see you butt in those jeans.
4. Look at you in a short skirt, and me without my shiny shoes on.
5. There’s nobody here drunk enough to want to take you home.
6. I’d much rather be from Cork than Limerick!

They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but men can be just as catty when they’re scorned.  Here’s a random sampling of revenge tactics, carried out by both men and women - can you guess which gender is guilty of which act:

1. Slightly dampen their carpet and plant grass seed
2. Swap their shampoo for Nair Hair Removal products
3. Box up their stuff, but not before taking the more valuable stuff to the nearest pawn shop
4. Pee in their sock drawer (never understood that one!)
5. Place a delivery hold on all their mail
6. Submit a change of address for them at the Post Office
7. Mail naked pictures of ex to their parents & family
8. Change password on their cellphone and record your own outgoing message
9. Date their best friend
10. Key/scratch their car

I could talk about mistaking someone for another person, just by seeing the back of their head………but I won’t!

I could talk about how all my guy friends are suddenly into watching kiddie movies and enjoying cosy dinners together……….but I won’t!

I could talk about husbands leaving their wives asleep at the kitchen table while they feck off to bed……..but I won’t!

I should have stayed in bed today!

Let me start by saying I hate snakes!  They scare the bejaysus out of me!  My fear is not as big as Big Sis’ fear of snakes, but it’s there nonetheless! 

Last night was a tad bit cooler than previous evenings, so I thought I’d sit outside with Wonderpooch and read a book, maybe have a margarita, relax, unwind.  Good plan right?  Wrong!

Just as I’m about to let Wonderpooch out, I happen to spy a HUGE snake, merrily munching on a squirrel.  I did what any brave soul would do - I hightailed it into the house and retreated upstairs to hide out!  I sent WHF a text enquiring about poisonous snakes - still waiting for that response (such wonderful attention I get from him!).  And then I decided to leave and go hang with friends instead - after a thorough inspection of my car, lest one tried to hitch a ride somewhere.

Today we googled snakes in Georgia and have come to the conclusion that it’s a Rat Snake.  I’ve been assured it’s not poisonous.  I don’t care!  It’s camping out on my patio and it needs to move, shoo, be gone! 

Any volunteers to de-snake my patio????

It’s too bloody hot!  And too bloody humid!  It’s no longer relaxing to sit outside and catch some rays.  Wonderpooch won’t go for a walk unless we’re heading towards the river where he can cool off - that is, of course, unless he’s running loose through the neighborhood at 3am, avoiding WHF and myself at all costs! 

The weather people are taunting us with predictions of thunderstorms and slightly cooler temperatures; last night it looked like it might storm but it came to nothing. 

But it could be worse!  I could have to work outside instead of sitting in a nice air conditioned office.  But I’m still ready for October!

Probably one of the funniest but most relaxing weekends I’ve had in a long time!

Friday’s gig had an earlier than planned ending, due to the fabulous storm that rolled in.  Back to the Watering Hole to laugh at everyone, and try to avoid the crazy woman!

Saturday night WHF was playing at the Watering Hole with a friend of his; all the regulars were in and in rare form.  The Cork Examiner (yes he’s back in town!) did his impression of WHF, Old Mr. Dublin was getting jiggy with Miss Tasmania, and Young Mr. Limerick was shaking his arse for all the ladies.  Once the music stopped, the sing song began.  And was still going strong when we left, after closing time.

I’d love to have seen them the following morning, but instead chose to veg on the couch and relax for a while.  I was impressed to hear that some of them actually made it to Fadó to watch the GAA - I’d have put money on them not making it!

But I’m definitely looking forward to having a repeat performance from that crew in the near future!

Why some parents today are complete germaphobes for the most part, busily spraying every object within their child’s reach with Lysol, treating cuts and scrapes like something pre-gangrenous.  Yet will let their little darlings romp and roll in those cesspools of germs that are the playgrounds in various fast food restaurants scattered around Atlanta.

I’d love to see an experiment run on a swab from one of those slides?  Can you imagine all the microscopic metroplis that are happily co-existing in those playgrounds?  And after a little playtime, it’s time to eat, sans washing of grubby little hands. 

Yeah, that’s very healthy! 

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday Dear Scouse Bitch
Happy Birthday to you!

Over the past few weeks I’ve been asked why I, as an Irish person, would think it’s perfectly ok to date an English man.  And what do my family think about the “situation”?

I don’t remember if I’ve told my family that he’s English - I may have.  In fact, I don’t remember if I actually told the family I’m dating anyone, though I have mentioned him in conversation - plus they’ve probably figured it out from reading the blog.  I don’t think his being English is a big deal at all.  Big Bro & Big Sis were born in England, my Sis-In-Law and niece are English, as are other family members and most of my friends.  

I don’t believe I’m “letting the side down”.  I also don’t believe it’s anyone’s business who I choose to date, unless it’s detrimental and people are genuinely concerned for me.

Why does race still matter?  And why is it such a big deal to others, when it’s obviously not a big deal to us? 

As a newly dedicated groupie to WHF, Friday and Saturday night will see me dutifully attending his gigs; but where else would I rather be????

Saturday evening I’m hoping to watch the repeat of the rugby game; WHF is smarmy in his arrogance that Ireland will lose and is keen on us putting a ”small” wager on the game, which I should take him up on.  He’s forgotten that he was wrong with all his other predictions - but I’m not one to rub something like that in. 

Sunday I’m open to suggestions - anything riverside will catch my attention before anything else!  I’ve scoured event calendars in local papers, all to no avail. 

Why is it so hard for people to come right out and just say what they’re thinking?  Instead, they use all sorts of veiled comments to disguise what they’re really thinking.

Is it to cushion the blow to the recipient of the comment?  Lack of courage to just spit things out?  Fear of coming across in a bad light?  Jealousy, remorse, or some other emotion they’re just not ready to share?

If you’re a recipient of such veiled comments, do you just let them slide?  Or do you push and probe until they end up retracting any and all statements or fessing up to what they really meant?

WHF is back from California, much to the delight of a certain Wonderpooch!  After the usual (OTT) greeting, WHF decided it was time to sit Wonderpooch down and instruct him that his guitar is not to be used as a chew toy; I’m hoping for a good outcome from that conversation!

Between the legions of (enormous) squirrels outside my house and the return of WHF, I’ll have to start bribing Wonderpooch with tasty treats to get his attention; it’s all very disconcerting!

And to everyone who was right while I was wrong, all I have to say is “Irish Chicken”!  

While WHF has been living in up in California, probably not giving me a second thought, Atlanta G and I have been devoting our time to our doggies. 

Walks by the river, with Wonderpooch deciding to cool off by taking a quick swim, followed quickly by The Doo, who seemed concerned for Wonderpooch’s safety.  And back home to unwind, relax, cool off, and watch girlie chick flicks - it’s good to have a weekend of girlie chick flicks! 

Course it’s not all been doggie time - we had margarita time too!  We love margarita time!  In fact, I believe it’s almost margarita time again!

After much begging & pleading from a friend, I’ve decided to humor her and once again give some much needed advice to the male species:

1. Anything purchased from Home Depot is not good gift material.
2. Promising her some wood and handing her a 2×4 is not funny.
3. Announcing on a Saturday night that she’ll be a golf widow the following day is not giving her advance warning.
4. Comparing certain body parts to interesting landscapes is unacceptable.
5. Assuming she wants to spend her weekend doing household activities with you means you reciprocate in kind with a spa day for her.
6. Jedi mind tricks are not allowed - unless she’s the one playing them.
7. Wendy’s fast food is no substitution for a romantic dinner.
8. If you call her, do not proceed to converse with your cat while she has to sit there & listen.
9. Even if you don’t particularly care to listen, at least feign some semblance of interest in how her day was.
10. Never accept an invitation from another woman, whether in her presence or not, to cook you dinner one night - doesn’t matter who’s kitchen she’s offered to turn the heat up in.

Some friends have pointed out that, for the most part, the Irish are not an optimistic bunch.  It’s definitely true in my case; I tend to plan for the worst to avoid any huge disappointment.  If I turn out to be wrong, it’s always a nice surprise. 

And even when things are going well, I worry about all the things that could go wrong!  I’ll go on vacation and worry that my job won’t be there when I get back.  I’ll see my guy chatting to a female and worry that he finds her more interesting than me.  I’ll go for a routine check-up at the doctor and worry they’ll find the tumor to beat all tumors. 

Is that because I’m Irish or because I’m just a big, insecure girlie girl, with no faith in herself?! 

Let the ribbing begin!

At what age are you too old to go out and party it up like a 20-something?  Bar hopping and clubbing like you don’t have a care in the world?

I’m not talking about going to your local for a few scoops, or celebrating an event in your or a friend’s life.  I mean going out trolling for young boys, seeing how many phone numbers you can get in a night, how many drinks you can wrangle out of someone, and how many bruises you can account for the following day.  All the while planning your eye-lift/boob job/tummy tuck. 

Is it a desperate attempt to cling to their youth?  A pitiful cry for attention?  A chance to get one up on your friends?

There’s nothing better than a 3-day weekend!  Myself & West Ham Fan had plenty of quiet time & plenty of friend time this weekend, with the usual interruptions along the way. 

We ventured to Fadó to watch the rugby Saturday morning.  As a former Saracens player, WHF was not too impressed when his beloved team fell to Munster in the semi-final.  However, he was more than happy to support Munster in the final!  Another one joining the bandwagon!! 

Saturday night I had to babysit but made it to the Watering Hole with enough time to spare to watch him play music with a friend of his - apparently I’m now a groupie!  Then again, I’m also a gropie so it balances out!! 

Sunday saw us hanging out with friends, and just relaxing.  Yesterday morning I woke bright & early and, try as I might, could not go back to sleep - much to the disappointment of WHF, who I kept annoying.  So Wonderpooch and I walked to the river and watched the sun come up.  It was a beautiful morning and I happily sat there and unwound for a while.  Not sure what it is but I could spend hours sitting by water, be it the lake, river, or ocean.

Tornadoes, downed trees, scared puppies, trapped co-workers……….last night had it all!  However, I couldn’t get home to scared puppy and was properly berated last night when he refused to snuggle with me and instead sought comfort from WHF.  Trapped co-worker hunkered down in her garage, with periodic phone calls and texts to check on the outside world, after a tree came down on her front deck, blocking her way out.  According to her, all hell broke loose over her house.  But her knight in shining armor went to her aid - when he finally answered her phone calls.

The first sign it was going to be bad was the tornado sirens blaring across the city.  I happened to be on the phone to my mother when the storm rolled in - after she heard the thunder overhead, that was the end of that call. 

Texts were flying in from various friends across Atlanta, who were tracking the storm on tv and reporting a rotating system headed right for my part of town.  I don’t believe we actually got the worst of the storm in my area, and for that I’m relieved!  I’m still waiting to hear from other friends and I’m just hoping everyone is ok! 

Mother Nature is a powerful entity and was rightly pissed off last night!

I’m here to inform you that it’s far from dead!  It’s oh so very alive and kicking.  I’m the luckiest gal ever!

Yes I’m being sarcastic!

It’s even harder when the person being dumped doesn’t accept that they’ve come to the end of the road.  Ladies, if your “man” is dating someone else, you can take it as a sure sign he’s not pining for ya.  Pitching a fit, stalking him, or using whatever other tatics you deem necessary to get his attention, will not give him the warm fuzzies; it’ll simply make sure he’s got 911 on speed dial! 

Let’s define a bad breakup, shall we?  A recently conducted poll says that a bad breakup is one that drags on and on, with lots of arguing, name calling, and pettiness.  Anything other than that does not constitute a bad break up.  A breakup can be hard on a person - I’ll give ya that.  But that still doesn’t make it a bad breakup. 

At some point take the high road and act like the mature adult you claim to be - no screaming obscenities when you hear s/he has moved on and is dating someone new, no guilting them into spending time with you as friends - if they wanted to be friends with you, you’d know it. 

The sooner you accept that it’s over, the sooner you can get out there and look for the next replacement idiot - after all, they’re a dime a dozen!!

Hands down, one of the most beautiful cities I’ve visited!  It’s pretty much knocked Chicago off the top spot of “must move to cities”!  It’s such a bright and airy place, it puts Atlanta in the shade.  The people are so friendly - the only ones who had anything bad to say were the tourists, on whom the concept of forming an orderly line was completely lost. 

I met The Parental Units & Big Sis at Atlanta airport Saturday morning - the first leg of their trip having gone smoothly.  After checking into the hotel, it was time to explore the city.  I’ve never claimed to be in shape, I don’t work out (except to walk Wonderpooch); when Big Sis said we’d walk up the street a bit, I looked ahead and I swear I heard my lungs screaming in protest.  I’d heard San Francisco was “a bit hilly” but Oh Sweet Mother of Jesus!  Somehow I made it to Fisherman’s Wharf - with a few stops along to way to see if anyone was showing the football game on Sunday (that would be a no!). 

The next few days were “easier”, in so far as we opted for public transport as much as possible - the cable cars are so much fun! We did it all - well they did it all, I didn’t walk across the Golden Gate Bridge.  But I did make it to Alcatraz, and took a ferry across the bay, and went to Coit Tower, and popped into Chinatown, and just had an amazing time! 

I fell in love with San Francisco and I hope to make it back again!

While I’ve been having a blast with West Ham Fan, being wined and dined, others around me are living the high life!  One such lucky lady has turned in her sassy red shoes, perfect hair and nails, and wonderful outfits all for the sake of lurve.  She’s gladly offered up her weekends to help her beloved renovate his kitchen. 

Gone are the evenings of socializing, instead she’s standing on countertops to remove kitchen cabinets.  While I moan and wail over the prospect of yet another evening of tottering around in heels, having my every whim and need catered to, she’s playing demolition derby and wielding manly tools.

Some girls have all the luck!

That if i was to have kids, at that point would I consider moving back to Ireland?

Should I ever be blessed with struck down with pregnancy, I would probably seriously consider moving back to Ireland.  For the wonderful health care system?  Uh……no!  For the commendable education system?  No.  So my wonderfully well behaved little darling(s) can be close to their grandparents.  Ok, yeah.  There’s that and there’s so my daughter (cos God will give me a daughter as punishment for what I did to my parents!) won’t grow up to emulate the floozies I see swanning around here regularly. 

I was by no means a model child when I was growing up; I look back at some stuff I did and I cringe, other times I look back and smile to myself!  I’m sure the Parental Units have some idea of my antics back then, but I wonder if they know as much as I know?!  They’re still talking to me so I’m guessing no!

I’m not relishing the idea of raising a mini-me!  I most certainly will not raise a mini-me in this country - just look at the resources they have to avail of now!  Maybe I’m just getting older (wiser doesn’t even come into play!), maybe I’m envious of my lost youth (let’s have a moment of silence for that!), or maybe I’m sick of kids being treated like best friends by their parents and being unruly little scuts.  Whatever the reason, if you hear I’m heading back to the mother ship you’ll know why!

Saturday morning, bright and early, I head to San Francisco!  Big Sis and The Parental Units have a very short layover in Atlanta, so any flight delay on the first leg of the trip will have them missing our flight. 

I’m going with the theory that I’ll probably be making the flight alone and just catch up with them later in the day.  Alone time will give me the opportunity to scout local watering holes to see if anyone is going to be showing the football Sunday morning.  West Ham Fan has offered to call a friend of his who can possibly help me out - I may just take him up on that!  If it wasn’t the last game of the season I wouldn’t be as concerned to see the game, but it is and it all comes down to this game.  In my defense, all the games are on at 7am there so I doubt we’ll be doing too much of anything right then!  So if anyone knows where I might be able to watch the games in San Fran, we’re staying just off Union Square on Powell Street.

Whenever I mention the upcoming trip to people here, I seem to get different tips on what I should see.  The  unanimous referral is Fisherman’s Wharf.  I’m dying to check out Alcatraz too, and I’m surprised that nobody has suggested that. 

So Saturday morning, I’ll be oh so very happy.  And Thursday morning, when I say my goodbyes, I’ll be oh so very sad.  But before I focus on the sad, I’m going to focus on the family time and just have fun!

Where are all the United fans??   Why must the Gods mock me so??  Though I did get great enjoyment from United’s win over West Ham on Saturday!  Others didn’t appreciate my enthusiasm though.  If I thought he read this, I’d apologize.  But he doesn’t, so I won’t!  And we won’t tell him about it either!  Right Mr. M???? 

What type of person am I if I’m using football to pick between people?  I could look at their qualities, compare what each is bringing to the table.  Break down the potential relationship pros & cons bit by bit.  Oh no, not me!  I use football to determine a suitable mate - and I wonder why I’m the eternal single one! 

Having said all that, I think this time West Ham will have the upper hand over Arsenal!

I’m looking for helpful hints - given my upcoming trip to San Fran, I’d like to know what you’re supposed to do during an earthquake?!  Trips rarely go off without a hitch for me.  I’m not dismissing an earthquake as a simple hitch but I’d like to cover all the bases, just in case.

Not that I’m predicting an earthquake; in fact I’m predicting that the worst thing to happen will be my inability to find an establishment showing the footie Sunday morning!  That will not make for happy bunny status!