I haven’t disappeared on purpose or intentionally – stuff is just getting a wee bit in the the way of blogging at the mo, but hopefully, all shall return to normal sporadic blogging soon.
Stuff that got in the way:
- Laptop breaking
- Laptop being fixed but losing internet for no Goddamn reason
- Being sick (nowt serious of course, it just left me in bed for a week)
- Life stuff that I no like blogging about
- The quick dip-in-and-out-edness of Twitter. I’m not an addict by any means, but I do quite like it right now.
Speaking of Le Twit – here are six weird and wonderful (but mainly weird) things people have built with Twitter. Nifty!
I’m not Jo King…
… and neither is Barb Dwyer, Paige Turner or – my personal fave – Les Plack (a dentist from San Fransisco).
According to the good ould Beeb these are all real people who, methinks, must have had some really strange and/or humorous parents.
I’ll have to judge any potential future husbands by their surname if I’m going to have any fun naming our sprogs!
Scorpions = Yummy?
This is slightly horrifying. But watch it anyway:
When sleep will not come
I can’t sleep.
Seriousy, what the double-you-tee-effing-fuck. Sorry, I mean f*ck.
It’s my first early Friday night in donkies. I thought it would lead to a long leisurely walk in Marlay Park or a stroll along Howth with chipper chips and battered sausages (I don’t do fish) but all I can muster up is a night in watching a repeat of Lost, some old school tunes and a renewed verve for all things Radiohead.
*On a random note though*
One of the bosses in work had a baby boy who he called Tom for simplicitity sake. Nuh-huh. I said it was a lovely name but not that simple really. Fortunately, he didn’t really get the Thom Yorke reference at all and chose to move on with his life, happy baby in tow.
Good for him
Long lost luff
This kid looks *exactly* like my next door neighbour did at that age.
Having lived next door to each other for years, we finally became boyfriend and girlfriend. I was just turned eight and he was seven and a quarter. It was the summer of 1991 and school was out – we were young, free and full of the giddy joys of life. Unfortunately, his mum thought I was a bad influence and stopped us in our tracks. She probably thought I was a cradle robbing bitch but really I just liked him for his Nintendo. Suckas.
Come to think of it though… we never officially broke up…. I am a cheating hussy!!
Putting the longlist on the longfinger
I’m a leetle shy so I haven’t mentioned this here but I thought I better before the shortlists come out and I’m not on it and I’ll look all bitter and/or behind the times, yadayadayada, but I got longlisted for Best Popculture Blog in de Irish Blog Awards 2009. Wooooot!
I don’t get longlisted for much (read: anything) so I’m absolutely excira and delira and thanks to those who let me sneak through, the Blog Awards peoples, and of course all the sponsors. You rawk
Doodle 4 Google
Just found this via SpoofScript:
Google have had held a competition for Irish school children from Junior Infants right up to 6th Years, to design a Google Logo for St Patrick’s Day and now they want our votes..
This is one of my personal faves:
There comes a point in time, when things are *so* cute, that my brain can’t handle it and I lose all sense of reason and ability to function like a sane adult.
Like whenever I see my friend’s pugalier puppy Dexter. He’s about the size of my fist, ridiculously hyper and constantly trying to lick people to death. I can’t go near him without beginning to talk in that infamous ’coochie-coo’ voice – ‘how cute are you! how cute are YOU?! You want your belly wubbed dont’ you? Yes you want your belly wubbed.’ This is followed by lots of random ooh-ing and ahh-ing as I proceed to wub his belly, giggling like a child. I’m not proud of it.
And now I’ve just seen these:
I have no need for them whatsoever but they’re just SO CUTE! Aaaaaaaahh.
Maybe I could make them and put on a puppy puppet show for Dexter? He’d love it, surely. No, it’s too dangerous. My brain might explode from all the cuteness / lack of dignity.
One can dream though.