Every Day is Election Day

C’mon the Cats!

… but I didn’t so I can only promise myself I won’t deny myself next year.

Looking forward to what Unarocks has to say about the Jay-Z debacle; personally I thought it was banging, was glued to the TV all weekend. Mark Ronson’s set seemed decent too, but what do I know, because…
YES I went to Boyzone, YES I had fun, YES you can fuck off. I’m with McLynn on this one.

Mother and Orla came to visit and elder sister even stayed over on Saturday, bringing cold hard cash and M&S cookies. On the win list for sure.

Gave a voucher a battering on Benefit buying products such as this, this and that. God bless vouchers for ensuring you have nice skin on an oh-so-rainy day.

Have a woeful pain in my left arm, a sort of dull, throbbing pang of aghness, and the accountants are laughing at me, nerdy so-and-sos. Last time I said fuckers my Nan told me to say ‘so-and-sos’, so there you go Peggy. She’s probably online… she’s not a regular Nan, she’s a cool Nan. Very mean-girls-velour-tracksuit. I’m lying.

Study is crappy-pile-of-highlighed-and-starred-for-asthetics-load-of bull. So I’m dealing with it by kicking its ass.

Reading lots about the Women’s Liberation movement in the 70s, it all started with a book Reilly bought me called Monday’s at Gaj’s. Oh, the male oppressors.

Spain won. There was a Torres v. Ballack situation in Treesdale, but we couldn’t argue with the result.

I’m a bit meh at the minute, if you haven’t guessed. Darmo is coming up on Thursday, and I can tell you, I need her right now. We’re in similar situations, between projects, and both more than a little disillusioned with a plethora of stuff… but if there is one person I can rely on to supply the belly laughs, it’s my Darmo.

I lost my title at midnight. UCD seems far away. Me no likey. This may explain my aggression.

So this is the real world eh? Fucking accountants.

Want out.

What’s next?

PS - I’m liking my new phone and no I can’t do without it Declan!
PPS - Mulley on crisps and chocolate makes me want to undo my good curves work. Damn it. It’s so true. Hits the spot.

(Soccer themed, see. Deutschland über alles, ja.)

However, highlights included:

1. Getting high on Dulux as the office is being painted
2. Having a 15-minute debate about what biscuits are most win
3. The dog turd I’ve avoided on the canal bridge on the walk to work for the past fortnight is gone (avoidance win is mine)
4. Realising, before anyone else, that the painter was whistling Paula Abdul ‘Straight Up’ at 3.04pm
5. My mother saying at lunch, “You’re not as wrecked as I expected you to be, with work and study and your life being so tough at the minute”

Tomorrow is Friday, it means I can have two days off… TO STUDY! Yipee. Dontcha…

PS - Curves, or ’saggy camp’ as it’s known as in Tressdale, is going fandabby, not fatdabby.

PPS - Is it just me or are those Zurich ‘nickname’ ads ridiculously annoying?! Yes, I do mean you, Jason McAteer. Yes I am starting.

PPPS - Reilly, welcome back

PPPPS - Scally is housemate of the week, having supplied epic widescreen win of a Sanyo.

Viva la Vida on repeat in work, at home, the iPod… tad ridiculous. And even more ridiculous that I just heard an ad on the radio announcing that it’s out on Friday… aaaaaaaaaaand I still squealed. Breaking the law can be good for the ears.

Juno is [finally!] out on DVD… Hurrah! Pizza night ahoy friendies. WATCH THIS MOVIE. The dialogue is phemonenal and Ellen Page is tremendous in it.

If you haven’t been before, visit www.rarebooks.ie. Fabulous. Just as a real musty bookshop should be, and if you buy online, they send you your book wrapped in old newspapers! Spiffy.

Softening to Damien Dempsey through his recent album ‘The Rocky Road’. Luke Kelly is alive and well folks…

We’re going to Neil Diamond on Saturday with respective parentals. Both sets are equally excited, and it should be yet another fabulous family occasion in Croker. President McAleese shall be in attendance so it’s a night for the glad rags…

Kilkenny kick off the championship season this weekend… WIN!

Davy Fitz in Waterford… I feel I must restrain myself here. I won’t say what I really want to for fear it will come back and bite me in the ass.

Home to vote tomorrow, how quaint. Driving home with Nickey and using the occasion to hang with Darmo on Thursday. I won’t lecture you, but I’ll be voting yes.

Oh, and Prince is cancelled. That’s the secret I couldn’t tell you the other night buds.

Meanwhile here are two photos of Reilly and I at Radiohead, and one of the boys themselves to boot:

Ps. I don’t really follow BB (I swear *cough*) but I will miss Dermot O’Leary from BBLB. Here is one of his best (Irish) moments. G’wan ya yellabelly!

Radiohead in Malahide Castle: Superb. Venue, Act, Company. All excellent. Need to see them indoors soon. It’s on the list!

Cork loss? As good as a Kilkenny victory. I’m singing Slievenamon.

(nice hair Louise…!)

Call me bitter, but it was Tipp’s first victory against Cork in the Munster Championship in 85 years. Shame the Dubs couldn’t be finished off. Just a week before Kilkenny kick off their Championship season against Offaly now! Three in a row is so close…! Seems the hangover from Justin McCarthy’s resignation is ongoing. Parallels between this and the Offaly situation of Michael Bond/Babs Keating is silly and futile. Difference between now and then is that the Offaly team had public support, something I think the Waterford team are lacking. In fact, most struggle to see their reasoning and distinguish it as a cowardly, sneaky move. I maintain my position that it is a bad idea to hand the players that sort of power and let them decide who manages them. That said, I’m not anti-player, I just think that a clear administrative line needs to be maintained. Perhaps the players just panicked, and the idea of a bridesmaid year yet again was just too much for them to conceive, but he didn’t deserve what he got in the end. I wish Justin McCarthy all the best. *GAA rant over*

Anyways. Equipped with a fabulous new kitchen in chez Reilly/Scally/Brennan/Troy, I am now domesticated beyond belief, serving up feasts at any available opportunity. I give it a week for this nesting to settle down. But Friday night was spent ironing, cooking, cleaning, hovering and mowing the lawn. Well. Gav moved the lawn, but I was uber supportive.

Curves is ongoing. And yes, I still love it.

Moving onto the week ahead however, this is my last week in the office. I’m ok for now, but emotions are bound to overtake me at some stage… I suspect I’ll break Friday lunchtime!

Right, I’m off to more classes, tonight it shall be Constitutional and Contract ftw. Contract is fabulous, compact and concise… and Constitutional is anything but. It’s long, intense, emotive and difficult. But it’s still my favourite, so I’m looking forward to it! Val Corbett is the new James McDermott in my life… more anon!

PS - Booked tickets for The Panel for the National Concert Hall on the 22nd June. Win!

I never thought a press release from a Bookie would interest me but there you go! Check this out…

‘With the Championship season starting to heat up, Boylesports, Ireland’s independent bookmaker, has produced a GAA Ethnic Dictionary which translates a host of popular GAA specific terms and words into both Polish and Chinese. According to Irish company Ethnic Media, there are currently over 200,000 Polish people and up to 100,000 Chinese people residing in the state.

The GAA has its very own unique language and common place phrases such as “breaking ball”, “sideline cut” and “square ball” are now translated into the native tongue of the country’s two largest non-Irish national communities in an effort to foster a greater level of understanding of our national games. There is now huge interest amongst non-Irish national communities in the GAA and the uniqueness of the games is equalled by the uniqueness of the terms associated with the two sports.

Other fun GAA terms such as “schkelping”, “shemozzle”, “mullocker” and “bomber” are explained and translated into both Chinese and Polish.

Leon Blanche, Betting Spokesperson for Boylesports, said, “Gaelic Games are one of the most important parts of our heritage and culture. Ireland is rapidly becoming a diverse multicultural society and we thought that this would be a good way to give the Polish and Chinese communities a greater understanding of Football and Hurling.

“Words such as “mullocker” and “shemozzle” are explained while specific GAA terms such as “breaking ball”, “sideline cut” and the famous GAA “Committee” are directly translated. We hope that when Polish or Chinese people go to watch games that they will now have a better understanding of what is being said around them!”

The Boylesports GAA Ethnic Dictionary translates 25 distinctive GAA terms and into both Polish and Chinese and also gives a translation of the term’s meaning. The dictionary was developed in association with Ethnic Media.’

Croke Park should have this done already. Tis only a matter of time before we see a Dobroslaw Młynarczyk lining out at full back for Offaly. Great news story!

News from BreakingNews.ie - this morning FIFA’s plans to curb the international premium of the world’s major soccer leagues bit the dust with the stark - and unprovoked - statement that the proposed ‘Six and Five Rule’, where six of any team’s eleven players must be from the club’s home country, would be in blatant breach of EU principles regarding the free movement of labour.

It’s odd that it was not much more than a decade ago when in the immediate post-Bosman era, the caps imposed by UEFA regarding the make-up of club teams were decimated. I’m not sure why UEFA seem so hell-bent on having a rule hindering the ability of a team to field the players it can afford to buy and pay for.

Manchester United’s usual starting XI this year contained five Englishmen (Rio Ferdinand, Wes Brown, Micahel Carrick or Owen Hargreaves, Paul Scholes, and Wayne Rooney) and a Welshman in Ryan Giggs. Even Chelsea would usually start four - John Terry, Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard and Joe Cole (the only moderately expendable one of this quartet, and so Chelsea certainly wouldn’t dip to less than three).

Perhaps the recent empty-handedness of Arsenal is enough of a rule that clubs themselves should choose if they want to retain domestic players or not. Adam Smith’s Invisible Hand would demand nothing less.

News! That’s me, and now Reilly, with respective McJobs secured to tie us over financially till academia takes over yet again. I’ll be in Croker for the Summer, spearheading a new Stadium initiative in the Premium section, and Herr Reilly will be putting his A&E brief from this year to good use, with an internship in the Affordable Homes Partnership. Both will be pretty challenging, but I guess if we can finish this year unscathed (-ish, my patience is a little frayed at this stage…) we’ll manage anything! It seems we’re the reason there are term limits, we’d stay here forever if we could. UCD days are now less common, we’re venturing out of our little cocoon slowly but surely, and my integration back into the real world outside of Belfield is going swimmingly.

Plans afoot include a cheese-tastic weekend of Westlife and Celine (don’t judge me, freebies would have you there too!), a quick jaunt home to KK for the Cat Laughs and finally, the Mini Marathon for me on Monday. My training has been intense; I get up, I walk from the fridge to the couch to get my own food, the remote is not being used, and it’s been almost 6 weeks since we were in E&C for chicken wings. I meant business when I signed up for this baby.

I have, however, joined Curves in Donnybrook, the noughties equivalent of aerobics, and survived a whole class of it this morning! I was a tad out of the social loop however, unlike the yummiest of the mummies present, I don’t own a weekend home in Wexford or have a little dorling doing the big LC. That said, I really enjoyed it, the atmosphere is very hairdressers (”Are ya goin’ anywhere nice on your holidays, love?”) meets Weight Watchers (”Jesus fuck-me Christ, that chocolate cake last night was, loike, a thousand points”), but it’s quick and simple and suits my life at the minute. I’ll keep you updated on my progress! Laugh as you might (you know who you are, certain male friends of mine) at the thoughts of me being in such a scene, but damn it, I want to be able to run up the stairs and not have a coronary!

As if that wasn’t enough Y chromosome action for me today, I’m also heading to see SATC later in Fundrum! Wickedly excited, I shall report back with a review, but not the plot, fear not!

PS - Beautiful little nugget of a news story here …spot on. JHR has been known to fill them in South Kerry himself! Great man for the first preferences!

Well, it’s old news by now, but for those of you who weren’t aware of my footballing persuasions, I’m a Manchester United fan through and through, and naturally enough I’m pretty thrilled that the Red Devils hung on to claim their tenth Premiership title in sixteen years and Sir Alex Ferguson’s 21st trophy with the club.

While the league didn’t have to go down to goal difference in the end - a margin of victory unseen since Arsenal’s epic final-minute victory against Liverpool in 1989 - and a surplus of two points only gives the due creedance to United’s indisputably stronger season, even a victory on goal difference could not have offered Chelsea fans a fair argument as to who truly deserved the title. United, for their blips, have beaten five teams at home scoring four goals along the way - as well as a 6-0 demolition of Newcastle - and twice scored four on the road, as well as an equally emphatic 5-1 drubbing of the Magpies at St James’. When truly on song, and with their solid starting eleven, United haven’t just beaten teams this season: they’ve demolished them.

Arguably United’s triumph is a vindication of the ambitious, exciting football as envisaged by Ruud Gullit and first practiced so marvellously by Arsène Wenger’s Arsenal in recent years. Chelsea’s habit of having the world’s best bankrolled squad churn out functional, phlegmatic 1-0 victories, while undoubtedly effective, has backfired, and teams showing more flair and bloodlust in preying for another goal have been rewarded for their hunger. (more…)

With a blog title like that you’d think that I might be a defeatist Birmingham City or Reading fan, but I don’t mean that Championship at all. I should explain.

This morning in the hotel (we’re still in Slovakia, slowly getting to grips with the needless pedantry of our fellow students’ unions) we noticed a group of youngish men wearing matching red Nike tracksuits. Having had a quick glance at the crest adorning them we learned that the lads were from FK Dukla Banska Bystrica, a club based not too far from here. They have a home game today at 5pm and were here for a team-bonding breakfast before the match. We also learned that the team are currently 8th in the Slovakian Corgon Liga (the local version of the Premier League).

What I found most unusual - almost unnerving - about seeing the team was the fact that they were literally sitting amongst us, without any airs or graces and simply just being. They weren’t being surrounded with dozens of nutritionists, or assistants, or logistics officers; they were standing in the breakfast queue amongst us, queueing up for the same muesli and scrambled eggs as I.

During some of the more tedious seminar sessions earlier in the week I’d been doodling on a pad and paper trying to formulate the starting eleven I’d pick for Manchester United’s UEFA Champions League final against Chelsea in a couple of weeks (I’m still wondering about the merit of Wes Brown at right back). A more obvious juxtaposition you couldn’t get - the United lads will likely be spending the days before the trip to Moscow holed up in the Lowry in Manchester, getting on the most luxury of coaches back and forth to Carrington for training, and having their five-star breakfasts sent to a private refectory. And there won’t be muesli or scrambled egg for them either - the whole breakfast menu will undoubtedly have been carefully cheoreographed by an army of fitness nutritionists days beforehand.

For a minute I really struggled to get my head around the idea of a team in the premier competition of a country’s national sport, aimlessly wandering around a hotel lobby and sipping espressos at a hotel bar. I doubted even the Drogheda United or Cork City squads would be sitting around liable to a torrent of verbal abuse (or worse) if they had to stay somewhere for a few hours pre-match.

Then I had a slight epiphany - of course they would. I had been somewhat hypocritical - before I’d realised that I was going to miss any TV coverage of United (hopefully) winning the league this time tomorrow, I had realised I was going to miss Longford play Westmeath in the first game of the 2008 All-Ireland Senior Football Championship.

Perhaps that’s a special touch that the English league is lacking - although the self-styled Greatest Show On Earth™ reaches out to billions worldwide and unifies people across all kinds of devides in ways that only sport can, the amateur locality and everyday integration of gaelic games helps so much to make Ireland so special - and when the weather gets better we get two gripping, emotional championships that shape the Irish summer like no other.

I think that if Longford or Westmeath weren’t sitting out in full open public view in their hotel the morning of the match, we’d all regret it. Maybe that’s something worth bearing in mind while I sit, clad in red and white with worry, watching United climb off their team coach in Russia on Wednesday week.