My take on tights.

Nutin' sexier than a burd with tights half way downs 'er legs, wha?

I can't wait for Spring so I can throw all my tights away and go bare legged again. Right now, it's bloody freezing so tights are a staple but I have so many issues with them. The crotch never stays put, it's always slowly slipping down as you walk to wherever so you have to do a quick scan for passersby before reefing them back up. The waist always rolls down on them so if you're wearing anything remotely figure hugging you look like you're carrying a baby sized hula hoop around your waist. They are nearly always too tight so they dig into your stomach causing all sorts of mad stuff to happen to your insides - anyone else get tights related indigestion?  Tights are singularly the most unsexy item of clothing ever invented, nothing gets me out of the mood quicker than the word gusset.  But the most annoying thing I have found about tights is how they make your arse itch like mad! Seriously, what's that about? My Jesus, it is so irritating. You're sitting there in your class, office, whatever and feel it coming on. You so desperately want to stick your hand down the back of your knickers and rummage around like a pre-school kid with a bad dose of thread worms. Instead you squirm inconspicuously in your chair, shifting from one arse cheek to the other, letting a bit of cool air at your bum in the hope that the urge will leave you. Usually I end up excusing myself and legging it to the toilets for a good oul scratch. I could spend five minutes scratching before I'm satisfied. Ahhhh, the relief! Once I even  pulled the feckers off and stuffed them in the bin. I couldn't deal with that itchy sensation any more. Maybe that's what we should all do - shove the offending articles in the bin! Ditch the tights! Free the itchy arses! Anyone else with me?

The Gym.

New Years, ugh!  Lucky it's nearly over. I reckon those resolutions have lost their novelty by now for most of you. The daily hours jog you promised yourself you'd do has turned into a quick stroll around the block and back home. I mean, who'd want to spend more than twenty minutes out in those freezing temperatures? It's bleedin' Baltic out there! And the healthy lunch that you'd get up every morning to prepare has become nothing more than an inconvenience, ten more minutes you could have spent lying in bed listening to Ian Dempsey shite on about how much he loves David Bowie before he plays "Heroes" for the trillionth time.  And that session in the gym you swore you'd commit to at least three times a week has dwindled down to your reluctant attendance of the odd step class, consisting of you standing at the back shuffling from one foot to the other while cursing the instructor for her amazing figure and boundless energy.  Ah yes, the gym. The one place in the world where I feel significantly fatter, uglier and dumber than everyone around me.  So here's my list of reasons for hating the gym. Feel free to add to it with a comment below!

Sweet Jesus.  God, help us all.

1. Not knowing how to use the equipment but being too intimidated by the muscled bound oafs who work there to ask for help. Seriously, why don't they get some normal looking people working at the gym? Someone who doesn't look like a steroidal Honey Monster after a body waxing session. 

2. If you exert yourself in any way you will end up looking like Waynetta Slob after a quick one down the alley way with some randomer. This is completely unavoidable.

3. The fact that the last statement is only unavoidable for you! Others will end an hours treadmill session looking refreshed and positively blooming. 

3. The mirrors stuck to the walls everywhere you look will make sure you are constantly reminded of the above facts.

4. Not knowing where to look. When you look in the mirror and watch yourself exercising you will feel like a complete tool/tit. This is especially true when completing squats, probably the most embarrassing exercise ever invented. However, if you chose not to look in the mirrors then where do you look? At the other people doing their exercises? And risk being thought of as a gawping idiot, verging on lewd stalker? Or maybe you could just look into space, look no where and end up smacking some lad in the head with your bar bell. Well done, Nutty.

Me and me husband before we head out for a jog

5. The constant feeling that others are looking at you, judging you and laughing at you. Even though you have no proof of this and it is clearly paranoia of epic proportions due to lack of self worth brought on by exposure to impossibly perfect bodies parading themselves about the place.  

6. Men standing around watching one another bench press. Yeah, they'll say they're spotting but we all know it's all about competition brought on by their feelings of inadequacy. Losers.

7. There is always one weirdo who strolls about the place, picking up this weight and that weight, standing just that bit too close and staring for just that second too long. This guy never actually seems to do any weights, exercises or machines and he is always at the gym. Always. Even when you get up at half seven in the morning in a desperate attempt to avoid him. He will be there.

Model doing a poo, I mean squat. Attractive, eh?

8. It ruins your whole week. If I go to the gym I always feel great after a session, so glad I pushed myself and went and did what I had to do.  But how long does that feeling last? Maybe an hour or two, until you realise you have to go to the gym again tomorrow. Until you remind yourself this isn't a one off thing. You have to keep going to the gym to maintain any kind of fitness level and/or slim figure. How depressing is that? I literally spend hours dreading the gym. It's there in the back of my mind the whole day. Contemplating going, contemplating just legging it home and getting into my pyjamas and watching "Tallifornia" repeats on TV 3. It drives me crazy. Takes any pleasure out of the day. This year, I reckon you should add up all the time you spend feeling good after going to the gym and then add up all the time you spend dreading going to the gym. Maybe after a glance at the results you'll do the same thing I did, not bother your arse going at all.

Coming home now, bah bah dah.

Some one you like would like some!

I'm going to be home tomorrow, airplane crash permitting. And I can't fucking wait! I'm going to make the super duper almond marzipan for my exceptionally frisbee like Christmas cake - Nigel Slater recipe, using orange blossom water no less, dead posh! And I'm going to buy some Kimberly, Mikado and Coconut creams and eat them. And then buy some Tayto and eat them. And then I'm going to smile at people in the street and say hello and they'll smile back at me instead of treating me like a weirdo! And I'll go to Superquinn and get some sausages for St Stephen's day, yeah that's ST. STEPHEN'S Day not poxy Boxing day - what does that even mean? Ah yes, can't wait to be in Ireland again.

PS - Update on the body brushing which I have totally surprised my self by actually doing every day! And guess what - cellulite is gone! I cannot believe it, it does work and I have come to enjoy my ten minutes of vigorous brushing and feel weird if I have not done it by the end of the day.

Leading 'em on.

I haven't been on a girlie night out since I met husband. So I was looking forward to a night out with the girls from my flat the other night. These girls are young, free and single so I can't blame others for thinking that on Friday night I was too (minus the young!) And by others I mean men, boys the opposite sex. So what's a gal to do when blokes approach ya, start chatting you up, ask for a dance, maybe ask to buy you a drink and then move in closer...  At what stage do you inform them that you are in fact married and not in the least bit interested in taking this any further? I mean, I remember what it was like when I was on the prowl. You invest a lot of time in the chatting up process. After twenty minutes of dancing and chat you do begin to think you're in there. So say the night came to a close and you went to throw the lips on your prey and he told you that he had a girlfriend, wife, significant other..? Well, you'd be entitled to feel more than a little pissed off, wouldn't ya? You could have spent all of that time rubbing up against some one who wanted  to rub ya back! But no, instead you spent the last hour shaking your arse into a taken man's crotch.

"And by the way, I'm married."

This was the dilemma I faced on a few times on Friday. Each time I handled it a different way. The first I am so embarrassed about. I was standing at the bar about to order a drink and I could see this guy looking at me from the corner of my eye. He was a total ride, I might add; tall, blond hair, blue eyes and strong, broad shoulders. So he taps me on the shoulder and says in a German accent: "You're not English, are you? I can tell by looking at you." I laughed and told him indeed no he was correct I was Irish, and I also wondered how the hell he could tell I wasn't English just by looking at me. So we started chatting and I ordered my drink and stayed chatting to him while I was waiting for it. My Southern Comfort arrived and I said goodbye and then he asked me what club I was going to next. I told him and he said "I'd love to meet you there, would that be ok?" So I panicked and shoved my wedding ring finger in his face and said: "Actually, I'm married." The guy was a little bewildered, he said "oh, that doesn't matter, I didn't mean just to..." Cause it doesn't, does it? The guy probably just wanted to be friends, have a chat, ye know, like normal men and women do. But I felt like if I told him yes I would meet him there that I would be somehow leading him on and letting him believe that I would like to meet him there and ye know, take it a little further. Is that crazy? Or stupid? Or totally big headed? I sat down in my chair and thought, 'Nutty, you need to get over yourself! Not ever guy who chats to ya fancies the arse off ya.'

So this happened a few more times throughout the night, sometimes I danced with the guys, other times we were just chatting, one guy just approached me and asked me to come for a drink with him. Two of the guys moved in for a snog (at different times, I'm not that bad!) and I told them then that I was married, and next minute they were taking out pictures of their girlfriends and telling me they too were taken, and how much in love they were with their beautiful ladies. Now, these guys were totally going to kiss me, I know the signals, I was doing the single thing long enough me self to know them. Fucking pricks! God help their girlfriends. One guy was brilliant - he said it was very good of me to tell him and he understood completely why I would feel it necessary. Then we danced for ages and had the craic, he was a total sweetheart. 

What do you think? Should you tell guys/girls straight away that you are married? Or should you wait til they offer to buy you a drink? Or should you except that drink and only tell them when they go to kiss you? Or should you just not engage in any chat with the opposite sex on nights out? Turn down every offer of a dance? Should you presume that every male/female that shows you a bit of attention wants to get into your knickers?

Crying.

I just finished watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" there. Had a good cry. It made me want to roll around in the snow with my husband, and fall in love all over again. So I cried. Cause he's not here and I am. Jesus, it's crap being away from home. Being away from him. Being away from everyone I know and love. I'm a right little whinger, aren't I?

Seriously, what did you expect?

It made me think of other films that make me cry. I reckon "American Beauty" is a full on snivelling, snot fest. I think I sobbed for about two weeks after I first saw it. I just couldn't get it out of my head. I cried all the way home from the cinema. On the 41C, no bother to me. I wasn't always so comfortable with my public displays of emotion. When I was a kid I fought them tears hard. A lump would build in my throat as I looked around me to see if anyone was watching me, it actually really fucking hurt! I'd be sitting there and I'd feel them coming. The lump in my throat starts to build, eyes sting as I held the tears back, then the chin would go. Shaking like I'd just come in from an Arctic expedition. Eventually I had to give in and let the tears spour down my face.

Thank god I don't have to go through that crap any more. These days I'm a happy and open, emotional wreck. I can go at any time. Today I was in local café, having a coffee, reading the paper; a sad story about a local girl and I started to cry. The man across from me noticed and remarked on how he wished the papers would print something happy for a change. I sniffed and nodded back at him in agreement.

So, I was thinking of making a list of films that are guaranteed to make you bawl. Please add any as you see fit but keep in mind I will slag your choices if I don't agree. And I am very picky in my film choices. For example; "The Notebook" just don't cut it. Sorry girls, but it's shit. But "It's a Wonderful Life", now that's a classic tearjerker.  So here goes anyway, let me know if you agree or not and like I said add on the ones you won't watch without a box of Kleenex at the ready.

Captain's Courageous: If nothing else, see this film.

E.T. - I love it cause it makes me cry happy tears as well as sad ones.

Garage - You'll want to take the same route as Josie after watching this little Irish gem.

Love Actually - Emma Thompson after she opens that Joni Mitchell CD, your heart breaks with hers.

Awakenings - Don't let De Niro go back to sleep!

Goodbye Mr. Chips - If only teachers were really like this.

Empire of the Sun - Christian Bale as a child actor just blows me away.

Brokeback Mountain - Beautiful love story, rips your heart out and serves it to ya on a skewer.

Erin Brockovich - When she visits the families at the end I just couldn't hold it in.

Captains Courageous - Just see it, please. If you are going to watch just one of these films make it this one!

It's on to you now!

My super talented friend.

Just a quick post to say Congratulations to my BFF Jonathan Irwin for winning an IMTV award last night for Best Production/SFX. Well done Jono! You are amazing. Here's the video he directed - Florida by The Funeral Suits.

Christmas shopping.

Get this vibrator out of my bum!

I went Christmas shopping with husband last weekend. We said, fuck it, we're gonna get it all done in one day! So we set out on a mission on Saturday morning. The bus was leaving at quarter to nine so we'd leave the house at 9.40, loads of time we thought, as the stop is very close. So just about to walk out the door when he realises he can't find the key. Run around house, look for key, get angry with each other, lots of grumbling and mumbling from me, finally find key and leave. We're rushing up the road now, I'm giving him daggers behind his back and cursing him from a height until I realise I forgot my photograph CD. I wanted to get some photos printed as a present for husband's Mam. So had to run back for that, while he grumbled and mumbled, fucked me from a height and threw me a few dirty looks. So, finally we have everything and we're walking up the street. Husband says:" I bet the bus comes along right now and we miss it." And what happens, bus comes along right then. But I'm not missing anything, I leg it and turn to husband and tell him to leg it. The two of us dash for the bus, knowing there is not a hope we are going to make it. Fortunately the bus driver spots us and kind soul that he is, pulls over and lets us on even though we're miles away from the stop. We jump onto the bus and thank the driver, husband takes a seat and I get my wallet out to pay for bus. But I don't have enough money. I'm thinking to myself: "I can either tell him I don't have enough and risk getting thrown off the bus, or I can pop the gallons of five cent coins in the drop and hope he doesn't notice. I do the latter. And get away with it. Yes!

It's actually made from her breast milk, caught in a bowler hat.

So into town we go. I love town at Christmas time. The lights, the decorations, the music; it really gets you in the spirit of things. Until you start shopping, then you just want to kill someone, usually whoever is with you being a fussy, picky, annoying, little fecker. He tries on a pair of jeans, then another one, then wants a bigger size, then a different colour. Thinks they're too short but the others are too long, they're the wrong shade of dusty blue, those ones are too flared... AHHHHHH! So he finally decides which ones he wants and buys them. Then we go to buy a gift for my Mam. Husband wants to get her perfume. I suggest Elizabeth Arden, Sunflowers. Husband shakes his head. "No, I want to get good perfume", he says. He wants Chanel. "What's wrong with Elizabeth Arden?" I ask. "Well, she didn't have any films made about her did she?" he retorts. I can't argue with that. After a consultation, yes a consultation no less, with the Chanel assistant, husband decides Chanel Mademoiselle is the perfect fragrance for my mother. I'm beginning to fear for his sanity. Also, husband would like it gift wrapped please. Ooh la la! Get him and his high falootin' ideas. The assistant wraps the perfume in shiny, white, wrapping paper and ties it with black Chanel ribbon. She sprays some tissue paper with the scent and wraps the already wrapped perfume in the tissue paper. It is then gently, lovingly placed into a glossy Chanel tote. Husband nods approvingly at the assistant's efforts. I snort. Tis far from Chanel totes he was raised. As we walk out the shop doors I ask Husband where is his other shopping? The two bags he was carrying before we ended up poncing about the perfume counters. His face drops. He left it downstairs when he was trying on jeans. I shake my head and frown. Tut tut. He runs off down the escalator. I walk over and look down at him and laugh. Watching him weave through the crowds of people, trying to get to the changing rooms. He finds the bag and runs back up to me, face red from his escapade. "You're some ejit. What are ya like?" We both laugh. It's time for lunch I reckon.