Sunday, a time for rest and reflection. Only two days late.

I'm aware I haven't blogged in a while, had a bit of a whirlwind weekend.... between fundraisers, costume parties and winning the cup final (pictured below) my head has been elsewhere... will say something of worth when I'm capable of processing thoughts like a human again.

Oh, and how lovely was the weather today? The dogs and I went to the beach for a frolic. They're pooped now, as you can see in this pic:

Toni and Harvey (Bonnie is camera shy)

My blowhole explained!

Was having dinner with my mother last night, when she started to tell me about her neighbour's kid who has a cyst in the roof of her mouth. I replied to my mother that I have a hole in the roof of my mouth that connects to my nose. She was surprised I'd never told her and to be honest so was I. I've had it for as long as I can remember, and while I know it's not normal, it doesn't give me any trouble so I had never thought to mention it to her.


In fact, I love my little blowhole. It's as if someone stuck a pin up through the roof of my mouth to my nasal cavity, and when I suck on it air comes down and it makes this nifty little squeaking sound. Which was particularly handy in school for driving the teachers crazy because it sounds like a mouse and they could never figure out where it was coming from. I hold myself soley responsible for the already a tad loopy Ms. Davin losing the plot completely. (She was convinced I was stealing oranges from her handbag every day and hence put, IN HER OWN WORDS, "the Davin family curse on me"... she deserved it.) Also made it kinda hard to shake my unrelated but fitting nickname 'Mouse'. I know it connects to my nose because of the air supply and sometimes if I'm not well and I suck it snot comes down. Yeah, gross, I know. I have learned not to suck when I have a cold. Learned the hard, mucousy way.


I've never even thought to say it to a doctor or dentist, or even Google it. Shocking I know, Google being my best friend and another one of my unfortunate nicknames. So I popped it into Google just there and it turns out that I am NOT half dolphin, rather I have an 'oronasal fistula'... according to the e-doctors "an oronasal fistula is an abnormal communication between the mouth and nose". Wow, I'm abnormal. Didn't know that. Another thing I had never thought of (until my mom put the question to me) was 'Can I shoot stuff out my nose?'. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I was unable to get my Club Orange to come streaming out of my nose. Much to the relief of the staff in Wong's, I'm sure. (By the way, Wong's in Ranelagh does THE best crispy chili beef in the world. And their egg fried rice is to die for. Fact.)


I'm about to post a picture of what I assume is a pretty bad one, it's quite disgusting, and rest assured mine is so miniscule you can't even see it.... Luckily, I also possess a full mouth of teeth unlike this unlucky lady...

So this will explain to those of you (I know no-one reads my blog bar Etain, bare with me) who have been puzzled as to why I squeak when sucking lollipops, or when in deep thought. I can't find any reference to anybody else's fistula that can make noise, so I'm considering myself 'special' rather than a freak. Sure, whatever makes you feel better Lucy. If you see me out and about ask me to do it for you, it's rather entertaining. For me, at least.

Your daily dose of WTF?!

Has anyone else been following the story of the Australian couple that are father and daughter?! It takes a lot to shock me and I consider myself just about as openminded as you can get but dudes.... SERIOUSLY?! On a scale from 1 to creepy this shit is a 12. Lovely little soundbite from the doting father here:

"For Mr Deaves the sexual relationship was 'absolutely fantastic'."

As if THAT wasn't bad enough, they decided to name the kid Celeste... which handily rhymes with incest, so the kids at school don't even have to put any thought into her inevitable cruel nicknames: Incest Celeste. InCeleste. Celeste, the product of incest.



Poor little girl, she can't help her inCelestuous family. Ohhh, I'm going to hell. Not that hell exists, but I'm a baaaad widdle bunny wabbit.

Getting by with a little help from your friends.

Who doesn't love a good harmless prank? I also like the harmful variety but my guilt complex rarely allows me to follow through... and besides, hamsters don't make great paintballs.

Excuse me if I get a little Art Attack on you kids, but here's an easy prank you can play on your friends at home. Remember to always ask an adult's permission.

Last night, I arranged a barrage of web texts to be sent to my friend Averil Longington today on the hour every hour. The onslaught began at 10am and should continue until 4pm. Her college hours. Just to be extra annoying. There should be 30ish texts battering her inbox.

Simple, yes. Stupid, yes. Will I be doing it every day this week? Yes.

Anyway, gotta bunsen burn, Hol and Sue just pulled up outside, we're hitting Dundrum for no particular reason... WE'RE ALL MATES HERE, YEAH?!

Jon Burgerman

I love Jon Burgerman so much... when I am older and richer I'm going to have him come in and paint every surface of my palatial house... including my sex dungeon that will be resurrected in memory of San Diego. It'll ruin my eyesight and drive me slowly (more) insane but it'll be worth it. For a long time his work has been my wallpapers, screensavers, backgrounds, I've stuck it up on my bedroom wall... one day I will have the real deal.

When Cats Attack. Terrifying.

I'm guilty of being lame enough to love cheesey animal clips.... (Don't get me started on interspecies cuddling.... c'mon, it's a puppy, a kitten, AND A DUCK!!... what's wrong with you people?!)

This makes me laugh a little too hard:

Could someone please explain to me....

... just what the fuck this is and where it came from?

It looks like a ripped hem off the bottom of a blue and white check shirt. Whilst this might not seem too unusual... I found it IN MY BRA.

Yes, it appears at some stage on Thursday night I stole/was given/ended up with this mysterious strip of fabric, and it then somehow found its way in my right bra cup. I did not discover this until I took my bra off on Friday night. (I'm allowed come home and pass out with my bra on if I want to, god damn it!)

Anyone with any information on how it ended up in my bra is asked to come forward and put my mind at ease.

Was it a gift, or have I become a drunken kleptomaniac with a penchant for hiding my loot in my bra?

How many times did I say bra?

Wintersleep - Fog

I cannot stop listening to this song. My only complaint is that it's too short, I need more!

Rust In Peace, The Cunto

Sad news brethren... and old news too... but an occasion like this cannot pass without a moment of solemn reflection.

The chariot of dreams and vulgarity we called The Cunto is no more. Gone to the big junkyard in the sky. Written off. It's FUCKING DEAD.




The bereaved owner R. Spice, or Ragin' S. if you will, plans to hold a wake in honour of the little guy in a week or two's time in her new digs. Everyone will be asked to share a memory.

My favourite Cunto memory occured one Autumn's day... whilst out for a drive, we noticed a Garda car behind us. Lo and behold all three occupants of the car, all on-duty members of the force, we taking pictures of the Cunto on their camera phones, which they could barely even hold they were laughing so hard. As we made a turn and the Gards overtook us, they saluted the Cunto in the only way they knew how.... "BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" and threw him a friendly wave.

That was our Cunto, breaking down barriers, putting parents in awkward positions infront of their kids, and promoting foul-mouthedness all throughout Ireland.

The Mighty Boosh's Finest Moment

Behold the Crack Fox.



"They're my squishy boots."


__

Cough bottle update!

HAHAHA!

My father has just come home and informed me that my cough bottle has codeine in it, which is an opiate, making it illegal in many countries, and highly addictive. It's about 12% the strength of morphine apparently. According to my dad I could sell it to junkies for quite a bit of money. SUH-WEET!

I know there was something shady about this stuff. Glorious.

That shit CANNOT be legal!

I'm just in from seeing the doctor (Yeah, boo hoo, whatever.) for a lingering chest-infection-cold-type malady that has plagued me for the last two weeks, and the dude has only gone and prescribed me a bottle of liquid death to go along with the antibiotics.

Now, not only do I have to deal with coughing up a menagerie of disgusting things on a regular basis (Tears on my pillow? Try my fucking lungs mate.) I now have to imbibe THE most foul tasting 'codeine phosphate oral solution'... basically a fancy term for cough bottle. Words cannot describe just how soul-crushingly awful it tastes. As far as I'm concerned, NO cough bottle tastes bad, I kinda like 'em all, but HOLY. FFFUCKING. JESUS... This shit raped my taste buds. Anally.

It tasted like what I imagine de-icer spray would taste like, or maybe brake fluid, or perhaps sulfuric acid. Really chemically. And not in the good 'Wednesday night in Wax' kinda way if you get me, wink wink, subtle subtle. No word of a lie, I actually involuntarily gurned, shuddered and twitched for a full minute after tasting the shit. I have witnesses, just ask Beansy Bacardi (lesser known little sister to Tila Tequila) and Squirrel Girl. Considering I forked out my own hard earned money for this crap (plus €30 for the antibiotics and €50 for the doctor) and have to take it 4 times a day, I'm a pretty fucking happy camper right now.

Fucking fuck.

Asides from that, all is swell (yes, I really did just type the word 'swell')... Had a surprisingly fun sober night out last night (surprising in that sober can be fun)with the ever stylish 'Fashion Crew' of NCAD (I'm their muse... rodent nerdbergers are very 2008) and not being hungover is a new and delightful experience for me. I'm also headed off to Livigno for a week of snowboarding early Saturday morning which is going to amayonnaising.

That rancid cough shite is kicking in and I'm feeling a little drowsy, so I'm off to operate some heavy machinery, toodles.

Resume the blogination!

Yeah yeah, I know, I've slacked on the blog front. I'm going to just pretend I got stuck in an avalanche in Austria, and only got home today.

Basically just wanted to throw up an entry, to get the ball rolling again. Not going to talk about my harrowing experience. We had to eat Davih. My god, he was tender. I Ziploc-ed a few leftover shanks. He would have wanted it that way. Well, he wanted to be cremated, but a BBQ is like practically the same thing, right?

RIP Davih Cassidy, you delicious bastard.

Thanks Dr. Shelby Webber!

Just got a lovely e-mail from an old friend of mine... the subject line read: "Stop feel shy of your male instrument size"... Aw, Shelby, you always know how to cheer me up. Seriously though, who writes this crap? Whoever they are, I hope they're on strike too, because with gems like that they deserve more money.

I'm fucking knackered... I was rudely awoken at 4am by my brother, who had forgotten his keys. My charming sibling brought one of his friends home, who happened to be tripping balls on acid and decided that he "felt like solace" and really, really wanted to hug me. Four times. Found it very hard to get back to sleep over the sounds of them loudly discussing the economy of China, cats, and why the kitchen floor had suddenly turned into a giant pool of water from which said cats were drinking.

Then it was up early to iron the monstrous pile of warm clothing that I've put off dealing with until today, the day before my trip. Last Minute Lucy. I am currently waiting for the dryer to finish so I can get my next fabric softener high... inhale that shit all day long and you'll know exactly what I mean.

Getting my hurr cut in a little while by Suzie '110%' Suze, a ridiculously cheerful and enthusiastic friend of mine, who will no doubt make the whole experience one akin to cuddling kittens in a field of cotton wool. She's gonna touch my head and I'm gonna like it.

This'll be my last ramble for a week, as I'm off to Austria tomorrow, FINALLY! And good news for.... well, just me, is I literally just got off the phone from booking another ski trip in March to the tax haven that is Livigno with 14 other complete messers. €5 for a big bottle of Smirnoff vodka. Says it all.

Have a great week everyone, I hope the weather doesn't stay like this for long... because I'm nice like that. If anyone wants me I'll be here:


See that dot? Yeah, that's me. Oh look! I'm waving! Hello future me! Yeah, see what I mean about the fabric softener?

The (Nude) Queen's Speech

This morning... okay, I lie, this afternoon... I woke up blushing furiously, the product of dreaming I was naked in public. Can't quite remember the details now, but we've all had the dream I'm talking about. And it got me thinking, being naked wasn't always embarrassing...

When I was younger, I was quite the exhibitionist... even going so far as to be a member of the imaginatively named 'Nudie Gang' when I was about 4-5 years old. I remember it so well and it still makes me laugh to this day. The Nudie Gang's activities consisted of waiting until my mother had friends over for tea/dinner/wine etc... then gathering all the neighbourhood kids, commanding them to strip, and then bursting into the kitchen and dancing around the kitchen table until my mortified mother managed to shoo us all away. There was even a hierarchy... of course I was in charge, and this warranted me to wear a dressing gown whilst addressing my naked troops of parental embarrassment... heaven forbid the leader caught a chill.

So where did the shame come from? And why? I'm groggy (having just woken at 2pm, yes I know, I live the dream) but I want answers dammit.... if anyone has any interesting articles or studies on the topic, I can't seem to find any so throw 'em my way.

Well, I'm off.... time for my very adult and sophisticated morning coffee chocolate milk. Where's my monocle?

So the weekend absolutely whizzed past....? It can't really be Wednesday already, can it? Wednesday = hockey = running. I already have so much to do today, seeing as we're off to Austria on Saturday. I have to pack (which I suck at) and generally just be organised (which I also suck at). So of course I'm lying here in bed putting it all off. Watching this helps:



Owen Pallett (AKA Final Fantasy, AKA the man behind the violin in Arcade Fire, AKA the brain behind my one of my favourite album names ever, 'He Poos Clouds') covering Bloc Party's "This Modern Love" with a violin and a loop pedal.

Makes me think of some of my favourite people and an amazing summer gone by. Right, time to shake off the fog and emerge from bed. Anyone feel like making me scrambled eggs?

Digital artist Jochem Hendricks

Fascinating. And beautiful.

Q&A, but I'm away, a sad day. (Poet. Didn't know it.)

Journalist and popcorn maker extraordinaire Una (who I may soon be bribing to lean Cathy Davey's direction in the Choice Music Awards, seeing as she is one of the judges) has just reminded me that I'm away for Q&A, one of THE best nights out for anyone who is passionate about not listening to the usual tripe you hear in night clubs. I haven't missed Q&A in as long as I can remember, this does not sit well with me.

In other news...

• This, this, and this made me laugh.

• These premiere photographs should be of interest to any L Word fans/people with eyes.

• Marc Jacobs will always have my heart. First the camel toe, and now this. Brilliance.

• Kate Middleton is still ridiculously hot.
  

• Today is Friday (AKA Vodkaredbullday) and something I just wrote to a friend reflects my mood quite well....
  

"I WANNA GET PISSED! HAMMERED! I want to be a mess! I wanna come home with things in my bag and not know why or how they're there! I wanna spend €200 and lament it the next day! I wanna drink too much vodka, followed by too much sambuca, and top it all off with too much Jaeger! I want to lose important belongings! I want there to be pictures of me kissing strangers the next day! I want to not remember how I got home! I want to be BEST FRIENDS with every single person in that club! I want to be told to 'Get down off the table' by the bar staff a million times! I want to smash glasses, break cameras, fall over... I WANT IT ALL HOLLY!"

You can't say I'm not a lady. Ha!


I'm off to do some laundry... I can't be a rockstar 24/7.

Reason number 9,428 why the internet is so great.

Someone up there was listening to me lament Lindsay's recent behaviour...

Allow me to present to you, 'Lucy's Wildest Dreams Come True Via The Medium Of Unsubstantiated Internet Rumours'.

(Or)ga(sm)dgets.

I want, I want, I waaaaant. This is the Lasonic i931 iPod Ghetto Blaster and my life will not be complete until I'm steaming down Grafton Street with this thing on my shoulder.

For those of you who aren't aware or actually give a shite, CES 2008 (like a porn convention for geeks) is upon us and this is one of the countless shiny, new toys on display. They're called (or)ga(sm)dgets for a reason folks! Great coverage can be found here, there's pages and pages of things that are going on my 'I will covet you and yet never receive' list.

V U L V A (Their words, not mine!)

THIS has to be seen to be believed. Definitely NSFW, unless you work in the vaginal fragrances industry. Everything about this makes me want to puke out of my nose into one of my shoes.

Mon grand-pére

Found a Wikipedia page, albeit a brief one, for my grandad... trouble is it's in French. What I don't get is why there's an article about an Irish rugby player on the French Wikipedia. I can't find anything in English anywhere. Sometimes I think they do it specifically to annoy me. Wow, how very Jenny Schecter of me. Sigh.

Ro Sham Bo

Fuck it, one more.



I wanna be a hot pro-snowboarder tooooo..... :(

T-minus 10 days and counting...

I'm soooo excited to hit the slopes it's not even funny... Tainer, Michy, Dave and myself are off for a week to shred it up in Austria and it really can't come soon enough. I have been appeasing myself by watching endless videos of female snowboarders... ANOTHER subset of women that I am wildly attracted to. There's just something about a girl in a pair of baggy pants and a beanie that totally does it for me. Now shh and just watch.


This trailer for Roxy's Labour of Love (film about female skiers/boarders) is worth watching for so many reasons... The awesome Boys Noize (heart them) remix of Feist's My Moon My Man being one. And Amber Stackhouse.... helloooo nurse!

The L Word goodness

Paris Hilton, Katherine Moennig and Ilene Chaiken at the LA Premiere
(Not sure how I feel about Paris even vaguely being associated with TLW, but seeing as TV shows can't catch herpes, I'll let this one slide)

Yesterday was lesbian Christmas. The official unveiling of the brand new (to those of us who didn't cheat, ETAIN AND RAGIN'!!) season 5 premiere of The L Word. We went at it big stylee, borrowing Fion's projector, popping corn (under the watchful and all knowing eye of Una), grabbing a few beers and some blikkage, and in short turning Tainer's apartment in the sky into a big gay cinema. Personally, I thought it was a great episode... I say personally, because we all know how TLW fans love to bitch and moan, SHAAAADDUP.

Best moment of the episode is EASILY Jenny's assistant abuse... "He hates you. Take him back to the groomer's now, and get orange ribbons, so he can like you again." Helena's strip search runs a close second... what a body!

Any and all of The Spices (and any breeders/gays who are so inclined, let's be inclusive here!) are invited to join us next Tuesday, and every Tuesday after that for the next 11 weeks... you know where to find us.

You MIGHT be a nerd if... Vol 1

... you are semi-seriously considering sticking this on your bedroom wall:




... you want an ITC One, an all in one entertainment center boasting an Xbox 360, DirecTV high-definition DVR, a Bryston high end digital surround sound processor, ICEpower high end D-Class amplifiers, a 4.3-inch touchscreen, an iPod dock amongst other extremely cool features. *snorts and pushes her glasses back up her nose*


... these research facilities are your next top 5 holiday destinations.


... you use science to help you stay as mind-bendingly drunk as possible without going over the hugging-the-toilet line. Useful reading for all you budding alcoholics.


... one of your nicknames is Google. (I cry myself to sleep at night.)

Mr. W

This is a brilliant ad, very clever.... I guarantee you will watch it more than once....

Oh the memories....

Someone just reminded me of Letterland, and holy shit it's a blast from the past. For those of you who were sent to a school who didn't sprinkle you with sparkles and rainbows, Letterland was an elaborate imaginary world inhabited by the alphabet. Each letter has it's own character and background story... it was a little like a soap opera. Based on letters interacting with each other. For kids. So not really like a soap opera at all. BUT it did have a resident bad boy, the letter N! Look how BAD he is, bending nails. I have a friend serving 6 in the Joy for nail-bending, GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN NICK!!! Hard as.


Of course, this wouldn't be MY blog without a little shameless self-promotion.... Bet none of you fuckers have your very own character?! Eat shit, bitches! Check out the rims on my lambs.

An example of the gold that StumbleUpon turns up....

Oh dear...

I've just come to the realisation that I'm a white supremacist. No, not in an Edward Norton kind of way. Turns out all my favourite sauces are white. Mayonnaise. Ranch. Sour cream. Garlic and herb. To name but a few. But I'm soooo not racist. I mean, I even have a black friend. Yeah, me and chocolate go way back.

For those who need help procrastinating...

... fear not for StumbleUpon (THE most addictive social community bar none) is here to ensure that you never get to sleep on time ever again! Basically, you tell SU what you're into (and not in a sexy way!) and it'll show you webpages based on your interests. Then, you can tell SU whether or not you liked the pages you were shown and based on that it'll start to hone in on pages that you'll really like. It also shows you pages based on what similar users like. As nerdy and lame as that sounds, it really does turn up some fucking kick ass pages!

Take it from someone who has to say 'Okay, this is the LAST Stumble and then I'm going to sleep' to herself and then still finds herself up an hour later!

Something about this cracks me the fuck up....

Rant off.............. rant ON!

It's too late and I'm too tired to type the rant I have inside me.... I thought I may have lowered the tone with all my Lindsey related musings and thought I'd raise the bar starting with a nice rant on why there is no such thing as 'Atheistic fundamentalism' (not according to the Archbishop of Wales) but I just don't have the fire. Instead, let me lazily link you to the writings of other people who both make some form of sense. Look at me pretending you care.... aw, her delusions are so cute!

Disagreeing with someone isn't being intolerant, folks.

Can an athiest be a fundamentalist?

Nonononononononooooo.......

From THIS:

To THIS:

If anyone needs me, you can just come scrape me off the pavement as I'm about to hurl myself off the roof....

The only thing stopping me doing something stupid right now is the fact I'll always have Hayden. She's only 5'1, and just turned 18. Right up my street. Short and barely legal. Give her a year and she'll be in and out of rehab, running over paparazzi and flashing her flaps like the best of 'em. Look! She's almost there!

Only 1 week to go...

Ridiculously exciting 'Behind the Scenes' look at The L Word season 5. Just watch.



I'm loving that there's apparently going to be tons more sex, more group scenes, and more pot brownies.... did anyone else get the impression that they weren't 'acting' stoned? The new girl is outrageously hot, I presume she is the oil wrestler Jenny gets her claws into. And I swear to god, if Bette and Tina get back together I'm going to... do something.... which adequately expresses... my disappointment.... SO THERE.

RDIs... Random Drunken Injuries....

Yes, I'm aware that it's been over a week since I last 'blogged' (using the lingo makes me feel like teh sex!!!11one) but blame fucking Christmas. Now that this booze-ridden holiday has passed we can all get on with our tinsel-free lives.

The amount of alcohol I have imbibed over the past month has led to me waking up with a menagerie of injuries that I sometimes can't explain. Last night was no different... I couldn't figure out why my ass was sore and then DING! I remember the spot of drunken skateboarding I partook in.... Or perhaps I might wonder why my nose is sore and there is a bruise on it and then DING! I remember that I opened a kitchen cupboard into my face last night.

Of course, sometimes the RDIs aren't as easy to remember/explain.... Something I did on Friday night has broken my right foot. Cut and swollen toes, and tendons and ligaments that GRIND and make groaning noises. I prefer my tendons mute thank you. I'm hoping it's all better for my skiiboarding adventure with the inhabitants of Hatch Street.... I promise I will video and then do an accompanying blog about Davih skiing. The world needs this. Just imagine the sounds that he'll emit.

As much as I hate any form of seasonal cheer, happy New Year everyone... I hope 2008 brings you all the chlamydia the world has to offer.

It's A Wonderful Lohan

Fucking hilarious. Watchwatchwatch. And only just coincidentally Lindsay related, I swear. This is my attempt at Christmas cheer. Ha. No no, this one stems from my longstanding Perez Hilton addiction. It's been almost two years since I was celebrity gossip free... It's a disgusting habit, I know, I just can't seem to quit.

My sophmore attempt....

In my naiveté, before I set off for my summer in San Diego, I had myself convinced that I would have the time/willpower/prescence of mind to write a blog on my Bebo every couple of days or so the whole time I was away in San Diego. As you could have guessed, I managed to write ONE whole entry, and couldn't even hack the effort of copy and pasting it onto my profile. $12 for 2 litres of vodka will do that to do. And so, in keeping with the theme of my last entry (staving off any the need for creativity) I will go the distance, and copy and paste it here...

"At 10:30am on Sunday, I boarded a brand spanking new plane and waved goodbye to Dublin. We were literally the first set of passengers to ever set foot on it, which meant the toilets were in glorious condition, very pleasing. The swanky plane had these wicked touch screen consoles on the back of the seat in front of you, on which you could play tons of music, TV shows, movies, and games at the drop of a hat. It was basically like an iPod loaded up with amazing shit and set into the seat ahead of you…. Very exciting for a tech nerd like me… Of course mine conveniently broke 3 hours from the end of the flight, probably due to my incessant fiddling, and left me musicless for the most boring part of the flight. An 11 hour flight is no joke, I’d say I slept for most of it, but the damn airhostesses kept waking me up to ask if I wanted coffee. I’m asleep!!! Do sleeping people want coffee??!! Coffee and sleeping are polar fucking opposites. Ladies, kindly FUCK RIGHT OFF!


Landed in LAX and walked out into the most hectic shitstorm of people I’d ever seen. Thousands upon thousands of people (and what looked like every single citizen of Mexico) queuing for customs but luckily I’d done that in Dublin airport so I got my bag, skirted around the poncho-clad madness and commenced the hard part – finding where I was supposed to go next! After asking about 5 different members of airport staff, each an absolute FRUIT in their own unique way, who all told me to go different places, and wandering about with my giants bags ‘til I got blisters on my heels (LAX is huuuuge!) I finally managed to check in and get my ticket, but not before the little tiny black woman behind the desk burst out singing ‘LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS’ and asked me if boys ever sing it to me. I resisted the urge to tell her I’m a cunt enthusiast and wandered off.


But the crazy-airport-staff related fun doesn’t stop there! As I was going through security, something about my ticket inspires the giant security guard to shout out ‘We got a ringer!’ (What?! I never rang no-one or nuffink or summat!) and suddenly I’m ushered off into this little cubicle where I’m felt up by some old biddy wearing latex gloves, who kindly prefaced my sexual assault with “Do you have any sensitive areas on your body?”… I JUST ABOUT managed to not make a dirty joke…. Any form of humour shown whilst at security in the US will result in an immediate anal deflowering, and my assflower and I have gotten particularly close in the last while. All my belongings (and I mean ALL!) were searched and then swabbed with little white fabric squares. My laptop, the inside of my shoes, my UNDIES (I’m positive this was unnecessary… unnecessary but SEXY) were all swabbed and then they put the swabs in a machine which tells them if there’s any explosive residue on them. LUCKILY I had left my uranium stash at home so I was okay.


I am now presently sitting in the terminal at LAX waiting for my flight to San Diego which is at 7pm. It’s currently 4:15pm. There’s no internet, hence why I am typing such a detailed and drawn out description into Word. Also, it helps take my mind off the really creepy old guy who just sat down right beside me when there’s tons of free seats! Eeek! By the time this is uploaded, I’ll have arrived at the house, and have had my giant-mega-cool-extreme-super-welcoming party (The girls just rang, there’s 100 people expected, a band shall be ‘jamming’ in the soundproof sex dungeon, kegs, plenty of 2 litre bottles of vodka and Jaegermeister, and an abundance of delicious Californian home grown weed! I’ll confirm these reports in a little while, but YOWZA does it sound like a party and a half!) I’m just so pumped to get there. The last thing I want to be doing is sitting here beside Creep McCreeperson (YES, I MEAN YOU! SERIOUSLY! STOP READING WHAT I’M TYPING!!) for the next 2 and a half hours but I guess I’ll survive. There’s nothing else to write about (bar the pretzels I just bought) and THE FREAK who is reading my every word doesn’t need anymore info on where to find me once I land in SD, so goodbye my lovelies, I’m thinking of you all!! Lx"

Ah, copy and paste. Helping an array of people, particularly college students writing papers, avoid ACTUAL work since its conception.

In other (slightly more magical) news... the adventure Ragin' took Dave and I on last night was delightful! Though it began with a walk along the Luas tracks with one swiftly approaching... I think it was a way for us to prove our devotion to the Ragemonster and weed out the weak. The house she took us to in Dalkey has THE best Christmas lights I've ever seen. The Santa flying a giant mechanical plane, complete with light up landing strip was my personal favourite item. Then it was on to Tallaght to see Dave's recommendation... and sweet. jesus. you would be able to see this house from space. And at midnight, in the FREEZING cold, the owner of the house is out there on his hands and knees, no jacket, laying down sheets of white felt across his lawn to make it look like snow. It ALMOST made this grinch feel a bit of Christmas spirit, but I stuffed it down quickly and made a sarcastic remark about what kind of freak you'd have to be to be outdoors at this time of night getting down and dirty with a roll of felt when your house already resembles something you'd find dangling off a Japanese exchange student's mobile phone. The snark brings me more joy than any present ever could.

I'm being kidnapped now for a hang-hang with one half of The Triboys, all girls, and our assorted apprentices, who are all male... The Triboys; challenging gender roles since early 2007. Perhaps sometime soon I'll write a piece on The Triboys, our ethics, mission statement etc....

Lx

Ah, the inaugural blog....

... also known as the most boring one. It will be a few days 'til I find my blogging feet, like The Pout (the person to blame for this affront on your senses) who in turn caught the blogging fever from none other than her very own poutégé, Una. Also, finding the time could be tricky, I'm triple booked all week... How I'll fit:

Kristen Bell

Hayden Panettiere

AND the Lindsmeister

into one day I just don't know. Well, I guess you get what you pay for. Apparently secretaries don't accept poppers and vodka as payment. But when I handed her my credit card she threw it back at me and said it was a receipt from McDonald's. Plus I ordered twisty fries and never got them. Man, my secretary sucks.

And it is now that I must depart, in an attempt to avoid any originality or creativity.... However, the 'official' reason it that the legend that is Ragin' Spice (who apparently has a blog but I can't find the address, so linkage laterage) is taking David and I on a whirlwind adventure... And I am more than likely going to be late, such as I am prone to. My tardiness is not to be confused with tartiness. And on that note.


Peace and love.

Lx