Galway updated

Since moving to Galway I've found very little to write about. I like it here. Most of my previous posts tended to center on how I did not enjoy my period of incarceration in Dublin. Hence I ranted, now I have no rants left.
I guess the one of the advantages of living in Dublin is the employment. I had a brilliant job in the capital and Galway simply can't match that. I've joined temping agencies galore but so far no joy on that front. I think the frightening thing about finding work in Galway is not that there aren't any jobs but that everyone here is so qualified! I have a friend ( i know shocking) who started working as a counter assistant lately and everyone in her place of work is a qualified chef. In one of the temp positions I had recently in Customer Service all the other staff were tri-lingual at least. At least! I have trouble understanding people from Cork.
Unusually even though Galway is the third largest city in the country ahead of Limerick and behind Cork and Dublin, many of the larger shops we've grown use to have yet to arrive. For instance no H&M, no TK Maxx and no Mango. Aahh Mango...all though since I'm technically unemployed this is to be seen as a good thing...aahh Mango.

Galway Girl

YippeeYiAy, Goodbye Dublin and Hello Galway.
No more luas, no more buses, no more Heuston station. My walking speed has dropped and I've begun to cautiously acknowledge my neighbours. Shop assistants say hello and get this...they actually do mean 'hello' and not 'who the fuck are you grinning at you bleedin' parasite'. Ah bliss.

Toppling busts

Where not to go in Dublin

Avoid Nassau Street, not only is the name of this street unpronounceable but I believe it was modelled on the fourth circle of hell. Many poor, unfortunate tourists have, lamb like, wandered into this charnel house in search of a genuine Irish memento and thus doomed themselves to eternal punishment meted out by irate office workers. Doomed, I tell ya, DOOMED.

If you have a somewhat nervous deposition I'd advise you to avoid Tallaght (yes, yes the majority of the people who live there are lovely.....but some aren't at all lovely and are in fact scary, mean and vicious), Temple Bar (u can't two steps without running into a member of the performing arts fraternity, gives me the willies), most of Dublin 1, St Stephen's Green (multiple, malicious magpies) and Kildare St where a man who is actually quite harmless is liable to burst into song/diatribes depending on mood/weather/proximity to digital cameras.

If you have any shred of decency/bogger accent avoid Dublin 4.

Natural History Museum - or as Dubs like to call it, the Dead Zoo. A staircase recently collapsed there taking with it some visitors. Now that in itself is terrible but sure weren't they all okay in the end, the reason to avoid the place though is due to alarmingly quick appearance of reporters on the scene of this 'disaster'. The barely suppressed glee in their voices as they attempted to create a panic has made me a little more wary of all Dublin museums for the moment. Behind every statue lurks a NewsTalk reporter.

I'm just here for the headings.

I've spoken to God and she assures me that it ain't her....... the sketch artist was an atheist, it was a bad hair day and it wasn't her good side anyway.........

Weather report:
Rain starts,
rain stops,
sun comes out,
sun goes in,
rain starts,



weather and broomstick
broomstick starts
broomstick flies
broomstick stops
broomstick falls

Solar powered broomsticks

News Just In: According to scientists the sun is not responsible for global warming; humans are responsible for global warming. Lets repeat that.
Humans are responsible for global warming.

The following are not responsible:
The Sun - (cosmic rays)
Cows (flatulence)
Madonna (as above)
Al Gore
Al Gore and Madonna
Spawn of Al Gore and Madonna
Butterflies (this might be true)

Worryingly though, the sun has cooled down over the past 20 years. Ah well, one set of problems at a time.

Beds, umbrellas & closed doors.

I am so tired. I have been so tired for the past two weeks and I'm close to edge, man, close to the edge. I have attacked both a kitchen unit and a door in the past week. The kitchen unit was innocent of any offence, the door less so. I guess what I'm saying is that the door had it coming. Je regrette rien.
Unfortunately its been raining a lot over the past two weeks. This has meant that my umbrella (kindly donated by a forgetful stranger) has become a constant companion. I really shouldn't be allowed a stick like object when I'm in this type of mood. It's only a matter of time...and exactly how can I defend myself in front of a judge...'well, she's was going mighty slow and sure I only thought I'd speed her up a bit....and I was as surprised as anyone when my finger slipped and the umbrella popped open...granted - maybe not as surprised as she was.'
Ah sweet dreams.
I suppose anyone reading this blog might understandably come to the conclusion I am an innately violent person. I promise this isn't the case. I'm just so bloody tired and I do not deal well with lack of sleep. I get cross, cranky, peeved, annoyed, frustrated and I WOULD LIKE TO TAKE IT OUT ON SOMEONE OR SOMETHING.
ahem.
I want my bed.

Wet T-shirts

I went on my first ever trip to the gym last night. I was looking for an aerobics class but I ended up in a room filled with medieval torture machines and I willingly strapped myself in to a number of them. After 20mins (this might be an exaggeration - I may have only been there for 2 mins) I was covered in sweat and my t-shirt was wringing. My legs were wobbly and my face was red from a mixture of 'oh dear god I'm gonna pass out' and 'oh christ, don't look at me, don't look at me, don't LOOK at me'.
I think I'll go back, no hunk of metal, plastic and flashy orangey lights is gonna defeat me.
Also speaking of hunks - a gym ain't the place to find any- instead it seems to be populated by men with enormous bodies but tiny heads. Its really disconcerting to speak to them. You keep waiting for the body to wander off to do its own thing while the tiny head hovers in front of you to continue the conversation.
And don't get me started on the dressing room, my eyes are burning. I think I might have actually inadvertently uttered the words 'Oh dear Lord woman, where's yer vest'. I was definitely thinking prudish thoughts along the lines of 'it's Ireland not the bleedy Med' or 'oh we're all European now, are we?