Ernest Hemingway:

As Ernest Hemingway once said...
'All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'

Thursday, March 29, 2007

lovely day at the park

I got hit on at the park yesterday. By a high schooler.

It was hilarious. I was walking Chay (who was none too pleased at this point after walking for a while, all hot and panting and acting like she was on the verge of death), and he tried to act all cool, complimenting Chay and asking my name. I knew where this was going, but it was too funny to stop. He asked if he could walk along with us for a while. He said his name was 'Big N'. I must have repeated it in a somewhat incredulous tone (I'm usually not hit on at all, much less by boys named 'Big M- not really my style), so he backed down, and said his name was Morris. The he said he normally doesn't do things like this, to which I replied 'But here you're doing it', and he laughed, then asked me for my phone number.

I smiled, and politely told him I was married. He immediately looked at my hand. I cursed myself for leaving my ring at home (I'm a bit paranoid, since it was my grandmother's), and swore to him that I was indeed married.

I told Q, and he said I should have just told the kid how old I was, which was a way better idea. Why can't I think of these things? He'd probably laughed his ass off, hitting on a near-30-year-old. Or then again, maybe he likes the older ladies, and that approach wouldn't have worked at all. I'll have to remember it for next time. What am I saying, there probably won't be a next time. My body is slowly sliding into the land of wrinkles, dry skin, and cellulite. Hell, I rarely even get carded anymore. Sad.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

best things about Ireland

  1. The beer. They drink good beer over there. Dark, rich stouts, smooth lagers - no crappy Bud Lite. Q and I had a beer at the airport in Chicago on our way back, and the first thing we noticed was how sad the taps were. Bud Lite, Budweiser, Sam Adams of some sort or another - nothing remotely good. In Ireland, their taps are filled with greatness. Not only is the Guiness remarkably good (and found on every tap in the country, I'm sure), but their microbrews (Porterhouse and Messrs Maguire) are also exceptionally great.
  2. The buildings. Everything in the cities is old. The pubs seem small from the outside, but then you go in, and it's three floors of rambling, sprawling rooms, all covered in dark wood and dim lighting. And they're always full - all three floors. And you can't smoke inside anywhere in Ireland, which is nice. They're very accommodating towards smokers though, and usually have a smoking deck. I don't mind that people smoke - not at all. But I also don't like smelling like an ashtray, especially when I'm on vacation and have limited clothing.
  3. The food. Delicious. Seriously, we only had one mediocre meal, and that's only because it cost a shitload to eat there. If it'd been reasonably priced, we'd been raving about it. Or at least I would have been. We ate in small towns and big cities alike, and loved all of it. Irish beef is wonderful. I ate so much beef - I worked on the assumption that they treat their cows better than we do. Don't tell me if I'm wrong. I won't do the research unless I go back, which I very much hope to do in the future.
  4. The scenery. Every way you turned was gorgeous, bright green, and ruins of some sort or another. It's amazing to me that you can just plop down a house right next to the ruins of some medieval castle. And some are literally being eaten by the earth. It's like nothing I've ever seen. I could not get enough of the castles/ruins.
  5. The general feeling of patriotism. This is a patriotism we can't comprehend in the USA, though we tout being good patriots all the time. I suppose it's because they won their independence so recently, with some of the fighters alive to this day. Old, but alive. These people have seen struggle, they've seen death and horror, and if they haven't, their parents or grandparents surely have. They get it. They take such pride in everything they do. Pride over there takes precedence over greed, and to me that's incredibly refreshing. A pub will serve you a fantastic meal at a reasonable price because they take pride in doing so. They won't cut quality or quantity to save a euro or two. To me this is the most glaring difference between our two countries. We'll screw you left and right to make a dollar, and for the most part, we'll take it, though we know it's bad for us. We're fucking suckers. The feeling is so obvious over there. They don't need a magnetic support ribbon plastered on the back of every car.
  6. I got to see the hometown of my father's family, Castleconnell, in county Limerick. It's a tiny little town, but gorgeous, of course.
  7. We got to spend time with our good friends, N8 & MT, also our gracious hosts during our time in Dublin. I'm sure they have some other things to say about Ireland after living there for a year and a half and having time to see some of the bad side.

Okay, that's my wrap up of the trip. Pictures to follow. Q took something like 400, and it was mostly sunny the whole time, so there are some great ones.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

off to the emerald isle

The time has finally come! We're off to Ireland tomorrow. I forgot, when planning this trip, how awful the week before can be. It'll all be better when I'm on the plane, but until then, there are just so many things to think about, things that can go wrong. Like one of our dog sitters backing out, and the kennel being completely booked. Stupid spring breakers. Thank goodness our other dog sitter can watch her for the whole time. She's a life saver.

Okay, I'll be sure to drink a pint o' Guinness for all of my two faithful readers, one of whom will be in Ireland with me, drinking a pint herself. Hopefully we won't crash our tiny rental car on the crazy roads while trying to drive on the left side. Bon voyage!

Friday, March 02, 2007

the joys of office life

I've worked in an office setting for a while now (much to my dismay), and I've run across all types of people. There's the guy who has to be making some sort of noise as he walks down the hall (clicking a pen, whistling, snapping), the woman who would pluck her nose hairs at her desk, the guy with a horribly annoying ringtone with the volume turned all the way up, the guy who says 'how we doing?', the woman who advertises when she has a cold sore (obviously not aware that it's HERPES), the guy who clips fingernails in his office, oh and don't forget the guy who swings a golf club in the hallway - sometimes real, sometimes an air club. I mean all types.

Lately though, there's been a new one roaming the office. It's the guy who likes to sing like a hair metal singer. He'll go to the mail room and suddenly sing out 'I wanna rock!' in a whiny voice. Or he'll be making copies and out comes 'I've got two tickets to paradise!'. Or sometimes he'll be getting coffee and it's 'Cum on feel the noise!' He's got quite the repertoire.

I probably wouldn't mind if the kid could sing. But he can't. Not even close. He sounds like I imagine a dying squirrel would sound. Or a dying cat. Some type of small, furry animal dying a horrible death. And he's the one kid in the office who looks the very least like a guy who'd sing hair metal songs. Don't get me wrong - none here looks like he'd sing hair metal songs. Well one used to have a very small faux hawk, but he got the boot weeks ago.

Now if we could just get one with a tic, or maybe Turret's. Then we'd be a well rounded group.