Thing 17 Wear Women's Underwear

Don't they look lovely... No? Didn't think so either. Ladies, let me applaud you all on your ability to endure the world's most shockingly uncomfortable undergarments... Seriously. For anyone double-taking right now, stop worrying; I couldn't last more than three hours of not talking so I had to pick a new Thing. Honestly - me trying not to talk? I'll try again next week.

So anyway, back to your uncomfortable clothes ladies. High heels? Why do you bother? They look like pain, and we have to carry them when you're sick of them and drunk at the end of the night. Skin tight dresses? Why would you? Wearing something that hurts you when you breathe isn't a smart idea, even though you do look exceptionally awesome... As for your underwear... holy shit.

I'm just glad I didn't buy a g-string.

When I put on the crap this morning I didn't think much of it. A little weird but not bad. By the time I'd passed the two hour mark I'd nearly spent as much time with my hand on my ass, trying to stop the thing crawling places I didn't want it to as I had without. On top of that, we're not anatomically built the same way as the ladies, and therefor certain bits of the lady garments aren't made for holding certain bits of the male anatomy....

You know where I'm coming from, I don't need to spell this out.

So as forfeit's go, and this was definitely a forfeit after last night's Not Talking failure, this one couldn't have been a worse one to pick. It was long, painful, uncomfortable, embarrassing and the cause of many, many jokes for Dr Frasier, Token Northy, Pony Boy and Thorny Wire.

I'll be glad to be done with them. Honestly. And they've never looked worse on anyone.

In a seperate note, I've done my last run before my 26.2 mile run on Sunday... Stupid God Boy, I'll show you for calling me fat...

And on an extra seperate note, check this shit out....

They printed the letter!!! Who'd have thunk it... Anyway, I'm delighted with myself, even though I had to read my first publication with pink polka-dot lady underpants on...

Here's hoping tomorrow's a better day...

Thing 16 Buy Women's Underwear

That's the offending article up there. It's pink and it's frilly-ish. Token Northy thought it was a bum Thing to have on the list (classic pun), claiming it was entirely too easy. I disagree based on the fact that I'm an occasional closet prude. I'm admitting it now - sometimes I'm prudish. And on top of that, and you can feel free to disagree here, I think men should never, ever buy women's underwear. Regardless of whether you have a wife or girlfriend. It's only because we're crap at these things, and there's no way to do it without looking ridiculously sleazy. We know nothing about bra or cup sizes, and any man that does has questions to answer. We know what we like, but our only point of reference is seeing it on a woman, so how can we know if it's good, bad, tacky, flashy or any other adjective you're having yourself without seeing it on. So there's no way that it can be deemed appropriate for dudes to go shopping for women's underwear.

On top of this, there's the aforementioned prudishness, which rears its ugly head at the oddest of times and circumstances. I have no problem making a scene in public. I've no problem with partial public nudity. I can't look at the ladies section of a shop without blushing. And I mean scarlet blushing... it's a problem.

So I had to go to The Crescent. I figured that it being a Thursday night at 8pm, there'd be almost nobody there, and I could sneak into a clothes shop, grab the undies and dodge out. Tops three minutes. Problem Number 1: The place was wedged. I stopped outside a number of stores, looked guiltily in, and then spotted someone I knew in the foyer outside. I moved on. This happened like five times. I looked like some kind of escaped perv. It was horrendous.

I had to go in to Elvery sports and spend fifty euro on sportswear just so I could feel manly again. Thankfully (but also in a way, kind of not) I bumped into Drinking Teacher and See See. Cue much guffawing and laughing at my predicament. But with some backup, I was ready to hit Penny's. Oh yeah!!!

Smash and grab operation. Get in. Grab the undies. Pay. Get out. Problem Number 2: There was a massive queue. So I stood in line in Penny's with a pear of pink polka-dot lady undies for about ten minutes. A queue made entirely of women. Drinking Teacher and See See shouted from outside the queue and took photos. Honestly, there are cherries and tomatoes that aren't as red as I was...

But it was done. And now they're hanging in my closet... Soon to be burned I think....

Thing 15: Write a Letter to The Times

I love the “Letters to the Editor” page of the Irish Times. I like to call it the “Crank File”. Everyday I sit down to read it with my coffee, just before I do the crossword (what, I’m an old man, don’t you judge me), and I imagine what scathing and witty comments I’d put in if I wrote a letter.

Mostly I get bogged down trying to think of ways to sneak curse words into the letters without being noticed… I know, it takes a special kind of juvenile mind.

I like to thing that it represents a kind of written vox-pop of people’s thoughts, though too often The Times remains an Ivory Tower establishment with concurrent Ivory Tower sentiments. Not terribly practical, and almost no swear words at all.

Nonetheless I find it engaging and I always wanted to get one published. The tricky thing about getting one published is that you have to write one first. Seriously. It’s only logical. If you don’t write it, they can’t publish it… I should have thought of this before.

In the last three months or so, I’ve thought of about fifteen things that I would actually settle down to write my own crank mail about, but I’ve restrained myself.

Today, I could contain myself no longer… There it was, live on Lunchtime on Newstalk with Eamonn Keane. Dr Jim McDaid, a Fianna Fail (shudder) TD who’s earning TD wages, and also drawing a ministerial pension. That’s two wages. TWO. There are thousands of people up and down the country who can’t get one wage, and this man has two. But here’s where it gets extra good: Despite the fact that every other politician (bar three Fianna Fail, again, shudder), has returned their pension, Dr McDaid will not.

Why?

Because he thinks it will damage democracy. Yep. Democracy will be hurt if he gives back the twenty two thousand extra euro of taxpayers money that he draws down on top of his already ludicrous TD wages. Good Lord what a shocking load of utter shite.

That’s a picture of the offensive tool at the top of your screen there…

So I sat down, and I sharpened my mind. And I got the claws out, and I wrote a long ass stinker of a letter which I promptly deleted by accident…

Oops.

But it’s okay, because they wont print the really long ones anyway, especially not when it’s strewn with swear words. So I re-wrote it in a shorter, cattier, bitchier, sarcastic-ier version. I hope you like it. Pick up tomorrow’s Irish Times to see if it gets printed… fingers crossed….

Madam,

Let me be among the first to applaud Dr Jim McDaid for his devotion to democracy. In the face of overwhelming numbers of other TDs giving up their additional pensions, it must have been difficult for him to hang on to the additional twenty two thousand euro of taxpayers’ money. It takes a brave and noble politician to hang on to twenty two thousand euro entirely for democracy’s sake, and without a single thought for himself or his own bank balance. It must also have been difficult for TD Bertie Ahern to return his money, as far as I know, he doesn’t have a bank account. Once again our politicians feed us their lines, and just as pathetically, we gobble them up.

Yours etc.,

Dan Mooney

Thing 14 Cake in the Face

It's funny; even when you know something's coming, sometimes it still surprises you. I could see Token Northy coming for me, cake in hand. I knew today's Thing was cake in the face. How could I possibly have been surprised when he smashed the cake right into my face in the middle of the Old Quarter. It was hilarious. With cake in my face, there wasn't alot I could see, but I could hear the other customers laughing their asses off. In fact, in the picture you can see the Blonde Boss laughing in the background. Having a good old giggle there eh?

In the spirit of talking about things that don't mix well (which seems to be a recurring theme), beard and cake are not a match made in heaven. Even as I blog right now I can still smell it. Which is weird and entirely unpleasant.

It started with a chat. As all of these Things did. The Cake in the Face thing followed right after baking a cake in conversation, mostly because apparently we think in lines... But the actual act of having a cake smashed into my face, which by the way, is a classic gag no matter when and where it happens, was a different story.

I'm in favour of keeping some things in the home. Public humiliation being one of them. Just take a look at that photo up there. Does that look like the kind of mess you want other people to see? And Token Northy's ridiculous grin of triumph is not what you want people seeing as you pick lumps of carrot cake out of your facial hair. Token Northy was having none of it though. Blonde Fairy and Dr Frasier were there too and they did little or nothing to talk him out of it. As he so quaintly put it - there's a time and a place for everything, and sometimes they're not the time or the place for them.... or something along those lines. I forget what it was. I had cake in my face.

It's everywhere on me.... Damn Northy...

Thing 13 Bake a Cake

It's cake. And I made it. This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Pixie Head makes awesome cake. Token Northy's mam makes another awesome cake. So does my ma. I've never baked anything. I'm handy around the kitchen when it comes to lunch, dinner and the occasional fry-up breakfast. But I don't bake... Never have, and never considered that I would.

It starts with a hunt for recipes. And in the middle of the game, Pony Boy gets to lick a wooden spoon. Here's a photo:
Seriously, I trawled the 'net for recipes. I needed some serious help. I wouldn't even know where to start. Most of them had stuff like "nutmeg", "ginger", "half-crushed almonds" and other junk that I don't remember and couldn't pronounce if I tried. Chicken and leek stroganoff I can cook - chocolate cake is a complete mystery. Lasagne, roast stuffed pork steak, potato gratin: no sweat. Chocolate cake: What??

I also made an outstanding mess. The kind of mess than only a rank amateur could make. Butter everywhere. Flour covering me, most of which Pony Boy fired at me for the laugh. Chocolate junk covering more crap than I actually used. Total amount of mess made: Three pots. Two dishes, Five spoons, a fork, three glasses, one counter top, one hob, and most of the sink. Amateurs make this kind of mess.

And the result: Pretty mediocre stuff. It was okay, not great. Like cofftea actually. Except not as weird. It's just basic chocolate cake. Seriously - all that mess, for mediocre cake. It wasn't even moist, or at least only kind of moist. Which is in itself a pretty odd word. And having had Token Northy and Pony Boy tuck in as well, we've still got a half a mediocre cake. What does one do with a mediocre cake? You can't give it to visitors - that's pretty crap. "Hey, welcome to my house, I'm so glad you came, here have some mediocre cake". It's like saying you're glad someone visited, but not that glad, and get out now, leave immediately. Why not just stick two fingers up at your guest when they walk in the door...

I'm putting it down to inexperience, next time I'll bake cake that says; you're welcome to my house, and I'm glad you're here. Leave within the next fifteen minutes to half an hour. I'm building up to cake that says; If you leave I'll cry. Though it's going to taste phenomenal, I feel it could come off as a little clingy...

To add insult to injury, because we ate it, I can't have it smashed in my face tomorrow, which was the plan for tomorrow's Thing. You can't really whack a guy in the face with half a mediocre cake. That's all kinds of wrong. Even a guy with flour on his face...

Thing 12 Make and Drink CoffTea

First of all, I know this is a cop out - it's a short, easy Thing, but these ones are kind of necessary, since I've a job with all the shift work that goes with it. Didn't get home till after half nine tonight, so I needed an nice easy one to get me done.

Secondly, that picture up there? It's hardly the match made in heaven is it?

I'd like to officially blame The Simpsons. They've been mashing some lovely things together for ages: Skittle-brau; the beer with Skittles floating in it. Nuts and Gum; together at last. And who'll ever forget The Pacemaker: One pound of rich creamery butter, wrapped in bacon and covered in chocolate... So, we started thinking of other combinations of things that might make a good match... Cheese and Peas... they rhyme and a like them both (not marrowfat peas though, they're manky). Orange juice and drinking chocolate? Terry's chocolate orange is good right? Coffee and tea then? Oh dear...

See what we did there? One's got a cough and the other's got a "T". It's genius.... We're hilarious.

Token Northy loves tea. I know all Irish people like tea, but Token Northy is properly obsessed, and has passed it on. Since he moved into the gaff, Pony Boy, Thorny Wire and I have been drinking tea to beat the band.

My passion is coffee. I'm obsessed with it. I spend money on coffee every day of the week. I drink it on my night shifts in piles. I have a coffee flask which I take in the car for emergency coffees. I practically live in the Old Quarter downing coffees for fun. I think they're probably sick of me at this rate...

So mix it with tea, and how do we feel?

Meh. It's okay. It's not bad. It's not great. All in all a bit of a let down. If it was awful, at least I'd be thinking of it as a lesson learned. If it was amazing, I'd tell the world how fantastic it is that I, little old me, could invent a drink.

Instead I got nothing. Can't wait for the day that I try putting brown sauce in my tea... it wont be my invention but at least I'll finally know...

P.S. Thanks Dr Zombie for the suggestion on the titles... it shall be so.

Here's a picture of me and Pony Boy for no reason...

Thing 11 Down a Pint of Guinness

I'm fond of my Guinness. Proper fond of it. It's my beverage of choice on a night on the town. It goes well with soccer, rugby, snooker, darts, friends, people you can barely tolerate and complete strangers. It's nice on St Patrick's Day, New Year's Day, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and every other day. I didn't always like it mind, there was a time when cider was the thing, the big thing, but I learned to love the Guinness, and ever since that day, it's been a marriage made in heaven.

Like all good Guinness drinkers, I've also developed a snobbishness for the drink. I don't want the first pint of a keg. I don't want a pin with a bad head. I want my pint to last. I want to see a ring of Guinness head to run from the top of the pint all the way to the very bottom of my glass.

It's a drink to be savoured. To be enjoyed and not rushed.... It's not to be swamped down in one. That's why I've never done it. I've never swamped a pint of Guinness.

Until tonight... Here's a photo of me ruining a pint...

So, it's been done. But why waste the opportunity to waste a good pint of Guinness, when you can knock a bit of craic out of it, and make a game of it to boot...

The Canuck started the game. Pint disappeared from full to nothing in 7.9 seconds. We know this because Token Northy timed it. On a stop watch.

Then I drank mine, but more on that later. Token Northy polished his off in 9.6 seconds. Big Bar and Not Northy dank in 10.4 and a stunning 7.3 seconds respectively. I finished mine in 10.5 seconds... Dead last.

It's not right. I drink Guinness for fun. Surely I shouldn't be dead last. But last I was...

It's a bitter pill to swallow. The Canuck loved it though... His parting words:
"Don't worry Dan, just because you completely failed doesn't mean you're a complete failure... yet". Nice right?

Thing 10 Attend a Drag Show

That's my new bit on the side there in the photo.... Hottie eh?

I know I'm late getting this one up, and for that, I humbly apologise. Not too humbly though. It's not really how I go. So anywho, into double figures and this is yesterday's Thing. I'll blog on today's Thing later on, and then we'll be up to speed... Forgive me? Please...?

So Dr Frasier knows Dublin. He knows where to go to see the sights. The thing is, there are sights, and then there are sights. You know what I mean? Dr Frasier has a familiarity with both. So the plan was to Attend a Drag Show, and the venue of choice was a quaint little establishment called Panti Bar. But in typical fashion, I was late leaving the gaff - drink may have been involved. Lots of drink may have been involved. So when we hit the town, Panti Bar was closed...

No biggie, I'll do something else from The Project and we'll just continue having our fun for now. So we popped into the long established George Bar.

Lo and behold...

Drag Show in progress. Jammy eh? There was no plan to it, and I had totally written it off, but we walked bang into a Drag Show.

So there I was, propping up the bar, minding my own business when the looker in the photo up there popped over to say hello. I really, genuinely thought it was a woman. Cue awkward conversation; I wanted to tell him/her that he/she had put on a good show. I also wanted to make it clear that I wasn't looking for a score, because in my head gay bars are full of promiscuity (and straight bars are so prudish right?). But these things are different to get across without looking like an ass, and all the time trying hard to use the correct gender term. What is the correct gender term?Still she was sound out, and we actually had a good laugh.

Apparently there's a fine art and nuances to drag shows that are missed by plebs like me. I guess it's a straight thing - hard enough to pick up on all the small things (pardon the pun), if you're trying to make it look like you're not uncomfortable as hell... It's a much maligned art. For more info, see Priscilla Queen of the Desert, a thoroughly awesome movie with Hugo Weaving (yep, the Lord of the Elves of Middle Earth, and the bad-ass Agent Smith from the Matrix dressed in drag).

Still, it was a quality night. Good wholesome cross-dressing fun, a pile of drink and I even got a little kiss from my new friend before I hit the road for home.

For fun, here's a photo of me and Dr Frasier after alot of drink....

Thing 9 See the Book of Kells

Did you know that the Irish saved civilization? Or at least that's what they tell me... Basically, as books were burned across Europe and Vikings plundered for all they were worth (they were awesome at that), copies of religious texts and histories were being lost left right and centre. Irish monks were copying and transcribing goodo (and they were awesome at that - which is pretty crap compared to being awesome at plundering).

Among the fine works completed by the Celtic monks was the Book of Kells.

It's described in the Annals of Ulster (stop giggling children), as being one of the most important pieces of lietature in Western Civilization around the time of 1200ad. Which is quite a feat. It remains to this day one of the finer representations of Irish culture. And it's also a complete miracle that it even survived - since the Vikings spent so much time sacking the shit out of Kells. Seriously. They torched that place dozens of times.

It's one of those things that everyone should see if they live in Ireland and have ever heard of Dublin (am I spelling it right? Dublin?). Sad thing is, it's one of the weird things I kept putting off over and over. I'll see it next time, I kept saying.

It's really breathtaking stuff. And I'm kind of ashamed that I didn't take the time to see it sooner.

On the list of other cool stuff that I've not seen in Ireland - Blarney Stone, Giant's Causeway, Newgrange, Longford... (scratch that last one...).

Tonight's fun and games includes a nice trip to Panti Bar with a good gang of Dubs, and will constitute tomorrow's Thing - Attend a Drag Show. Here's hoping it's as inspiring as today's trip...

P.S. Aud - I'll donate blood next week in Limerick. I got the not so subtle text message hint earlier on... :) Thanks though!!!

Thing 8 Picnic on a Roundabout

The great outdoors. You see it pretty much every day, in that short jog between your front door and you car, or between your gaff and the bus stop. It's hard to pay attention to it though, when you're trying to dodge raindrops, or avoiding getting soaked. It'd be great if we had just a few days of decent weather to spend in the sun....

Okay, look, I'd love to go out, but How I Met Your Mother is on, and then I've to blog, and then I want to watch Reeling In The Years, and of course there's probably some crap on Sky Movies that I'd be interested in half-watching while I shoot the breeze with Token Northy, Thorny Wire and Pony Boy. I'd love to see some sunshine, but as you can tell I'm highly busy.

Man, remember when we had those few days of sunshine? I wish I hadn't wasted those....

That's basically the inspiration behind this Thing. I always promised myself I wouldn't be one of those old pain-in-the-ass whiners who give out about the weather and then spend their good days vegging in front of the telly. It's not that I don't appreciate a good winge as much as the next bloke, I just hate the fact that we get about ten and a half days of decent weather in this country - let's not waste it. Plus, I always wanted to picnic on a roundabout...

This should have been done yesterday, but I was too lazy getting out of the leaba... not today, I say. Not today.

Originally me, The Frenchman and Token Northy were to picnic, but we ran into Big Red and Pixie Head who seemed like they'd like a bit of grub in the middle of a modern major thoroughfare, so it was five instead of three. I've always believed in the more-the-merrier.

It's an odd feeling picnicing on a roundabout. It's not like we picnic alot as a nation anyway, so it's normally a special treat. A treat typically reserved for the park, or a local green spot. As for roundabouts; we typically hate them. As well we should. No one in this country has a goddam clue how to maneouvre when it comes to the arcane magic of driving in a small circle around a piece of tarmac. It's like someone's asked us to recite the alphabet backwards - we could probably do it, but it takes time, so we'd rather just skip from Z to A and be done with the bits in between...

So picnics and roundabouts... Not a match made in heaven.... until you combine them.

I'd like to take some time to thank all the awesome drivers and passengers on the road today who craned their necks to look out the windows at us as we munched our grub. A special thanks to all of those who beeped appreciation for our outrageous flying in the face of convention...

I urge eveyone, in all seriousness - take advantege of the weather when it's not trying to drown us. Get out in the fresh air. Pack some grub. Pick up some friends - if you can't find those, I'll lend you Token Northy - he's a pain in the hole, and get outside.

Pick a park if you can, but if you can't a roundabout will do - motorists think it's hilarious. Trust me, I know.

P.S. How awesome is that top photo? It's the picnic reflection in my sunglasses... The Frenchman fairly rocks for that one...

Thing 7 Brush Teeth, Drink Orange Juice

Number of attempted Things today: 3
Number of completed Things today: 1

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Token Northy and Pony Boy for their unwavering support... Assholes.

Since I work shift-work full-time, and that includes night-shifts, I'm obliged to fit in The Project Things around my work hours. It's not easy. Time must be juggled, and as Wise One, Dr Frasier and Thorny Wire will tell you, I'm not the best at the old time management. Basically, I got out of bed way too late after today's night shift to have a picnic on a roundabout. Nobody to blame but myself. So we'll tackle that bad-boy tomorrow.

Then I decided that I'd Count to 2,000 as my Thing for today. I was passing number 23, when Token Northy started shouting random numbers for fun. Pony Boy jumped in on the action. As I passed number 78, Token Northy started counting three seconds behind me, and Pony Boy started counting backwards from the next highest decade up... I persevered valiantly. Refusing to be drawn in by their shenanigans. As I passed number 600, the house phone rang...

Pony Boy answered it, and I hear one side of a conversation:

"Ya, he's here, but he's counting t 2,000 and he cannot be disturbed... What? It's important? How important? He's counting like... Oh... It's an emergency? Ya sure, hang on... DAN!! Telephone, it's an emergency..."

I should have seen the mobile phone in his hand. He'd rung the housephone, answered, hung up on himself and proceeded to enter into a conversation entirely with himself. Duped. I stopped counting. And went to the phone. "Beep, beep beep, beep...."

So.... Options and time limited (I've nights again tonight). I opted for the Teeth Brushing and OJ Thing. It's used as a threat of torture in an Austin Powers' Movie. Earthworm Jim's evil identical twin brother loves it, because Jim hated it. And anyone who's made the mistake of brushing their teeth before their morning OJ will testify... it's revolting.

There's something about the collision of tastes. Orange and mint have no place together in this world. Orange and chocolate - match made in heaven. Mint and chocolate - divine. Orange and min - yeugh.

I dare you, if you've never done it before, try it out now...

Or tomorrow morning. Let me know how you get on.



So I did it, I brushed the crap out of my teeth and swamped back the bottle. I'm kind of glad I did it. It's out of the way. I'll tell you honestly that one was really hanging over my head. I've been not looking forward to it for some time... I imagine the Back Sack and Crack Wax will put it to shame... We'll see.



Here's hoping I wake up on time for tomorrow's picnic.


P.S. Here's a photo of Token Northy thinking he's cool. Just for fun.

Thing 6 Walk a Mile in Someone Else's Shoes

Good Lord Pony Boy has some giant feet... You know what they say about men with giant feet right.... meh, I haven't the energy for a bad penis joke that you've all already heard. And besides, it's crass.

So anyway, he's got giant feet, and as a corollary to this, he also has giant shoes. They're like god damn barges. You could smuggle Dr Frasier and his entire County Clare family over the border into Limerick in one of these things. You could attach some wings to those bad boys and take off from our drive way in them. He loaded one of them with passengers and tried to sail it across the Atlantic Ocean in 1912, with disastrous consequences... You get where I'm going with this.

They don't fit me. They're a little bit roomy for my size 9's (9 1/2 on my left foot, I don't know why that one's bigger).

So anyway, I think it was Billy Connolly who said: "Before you judge someone; walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you judge them, you're a mile away and you have their frickin' shoes". Wise, wise words.

It's an expression I've always been fond of mind. Walk a mile in someone's shoes, is an instruction to try to know someone else's problems, and the road they travel before you aply your life to them. It seems like pretty solid advice if you ask me. I think we're all guilty of firing about the judgements too quickly.

So I did it. I walked a mile in someone else's shoes, but not figuratively. I put on Pony Boy's shoes, and me, him and Dr Frasier all walked a mile. Nice evening for it too. Not too chilly. Still some brightness left in the sky. Quick dander up the road and back...

So from now on, when someone tells me to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, I can safely say, I've already done it. Enjoyed it. And I'm going to judge you anyway...

:)

I crack myself up...

P.S. Finally starting to impose some organisation on this Project. Tomorrow's Picnic on a Roundabout, Wednesday is Play Softball, Thursday is Attend a Drag Show and Friday is See the Book of Kells. All pretty worthy. Keep the suggestions coming too folks, otherwise Token Northy gets to give them all, and he's sadistic as hell....

Thing 5 Write a Fan Mail

Oh yeah... Senator Norris. He's awesome.

This dude took on The Constitution of Ireland because of it's complete homophobia, and went all the way to the European Court of Human Rights. When did he do this? In the 1980's, when this country was twice as backwards as it is now. And he's hilarious. The dude's a legend. So it's only right and proper that I should send him some fan-mail...

It's not easy though. I'm not good at paying people compliments. Still he's a legend so I did it.

And here it is...

Senator Norris,

For what it's worth, I'd like to add my voice to the many others in this country now calling for you to stand for President. Your record as a Senator, a human rights activist and a broadcaster speaks for itself, and tells the story of an intelligent, educated, articulate and forward thinking man. Your many public appearances for television and radio show a side of you that's both funny, caring and considerate. It's this combination of qualities that make you the ideal candidate for Presidency.

Your wit and personality remain a bright light in a political landscape that's become increasingly dark, dreary and lacking in any form of colour. The Senate's become the focus recently after suggestions that it should be dissolved. In the event that this happens, I urge you to remain in political life - stand for Dáil Éireann, and become a TD, because without characters like you, the political landscape will be completely bereft of the type of politician that's really required now. Intelligent, educated, witty and tough, with charisma and charm as much as sense and determination.

In matters of human rights you're also to be commended. Taking on the establishment in country where homophobia remains rife even today, must have been a tall order in the 1980's. As we continue to catch up with the rest of Western Society, I do hope that you're contributions will be remembered.

I hope this letter finds you ready for the long road for campaigning, and I know that you'll embrace the challenges facing both a Presidential Campaign and the presidency itself with the vigour, charm, enthusiasm and determination that only you can.

Good luck

Sincerely,

Dan Mooney

So anyway, i know it's a little gushy and I've come across like a bit of a tool, but I don't care. The man's a legend. I thought about it for a while before I settled on him. I was thinking I might go for Patrick Stewart, maybe Denis Irwin, or even Declan Kidney, but Senator Norris just seemed like the right one to go for. Here's hoping he does run for President.

Thing 4 Write My Name With My Toes

Firstly: Feet are disgusting. It's a personal opinion thing. I don't like feet. Not mine, or anyone else's. I'm sure yours are lovely feet, but without having seen them, I can tell you safely that I don't like them. Sorry.

Secondly: I know this a kind of a dumb Thing to have on The Project, but I've really never used my feet for anything other than walking, running and standing, so it's about time they got some diversification right (or in this case, left)?

If you're short of inspiration, or think that you've got it tough in life, then have a look at this guy's life-story and his long, long list of achievements:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christy_Brown

Or watch the movie My Left Foot. Pure genius.

So anyway, that's the serious bit done. On to the laughing. At me. Certainly not with me. Sitting in the gaff on my own. Thorny Wire still in Cork, Token Northy and Pony Boy in Kerry, and me sitting in on a Saturday night with a pen in between my toes and an A4 on the ground trying to write my name. You may point and laugh..... now!

It's odd how little control we have over our own bodies when you think about it. Opposable thumbs were a smart evolutionary idea, but we pretty much decided to stop being dexterous with everything else shortly after we levelled-up from monkey. We stuck our feet in shoes - thank God, and promptly ignored them from then on. We can wiggle the big toes, but the others are just little lumps sticking out of the tops of your extremities. And they're manky looking.

So, to recap; they're not attractive (though some people have crazy ass foot fetishes), and they're kind of useless, save for standing up on. Let's see if we can't put them to good use...

So I wrote my name with my feet. See for yourself...

Eh? Eh? Impressed? No? Me either... I doubt highly that the bank would accept it on a credit card receipt. It really is funny how little control I've got over my own feet. Still, it was fun, and it's another Thing I've never done.

Now to look ahead for tomorrow....

Thing 3 Burn a Book

Alright, let me start by saying I'm not, nor will I ever be, in favour of burning books. Proper book burning ceremonies have been used by different dictatorships and regimes to censor independent thought, to control masses and to brainwash their public. I put it on The Project only because I knew that it was something that was totally new to me, and that's what this is all about....

Mind you, turned out to be great craic.

Self help books resist flames, apparently.

It's a difficult thing to try to decide: Which book will I torch for my own rather twisted form of amusement? The selection policy was based on my own, sometimes nerdy, sometimes pompous sense of taste. That rules out comics, science fiction or anything about zombies (I warned you, I'm a giant nerd, there's pretty much no point in denying it, everyone knows...). It also rules out any of the classics, since I appreciate a thoroughly good book, particularly one which has contributed to society. Also ruled out are cookbooks, because they're my secret love (not anymore eh?). I couldn't possibly burn a kids' book either, not in good conscience anyway...

It's going to have to be something I hate. Something that I loathe with every bone...

Chick Lit? Nah... I don't hate it enough. It's annoying, and I'll pretty much never read another one ever again, but it's not that deep down in the pit of your stomach hatred.

The Twilight Series? Now there's a possibility. That's got potential. Quite literally millions of people everywhere have been drawn in by this utter nonsense... but I think I've just transferred my loathing of the movie onto the book. I've never even read them, so I know where my ire really lies.

Self-help books? Bingo.

"How many of you have self-help books? Okay, that's your first problem. You can't help yourself, because your *self* sucks!"

That's my favourite quote from the 2006 movie School for Scoundrels, delivered as only he can, by Billy Bob Thornton. I loathe the idea of a quick fix. That whatever problems you've run into in your life, that a book can tell you how to fix them. One book. Six billion people on the planet, all with different experiences, all with different outlooks on the world, all with different problems... which apparently can be solved by one book. That's just stupid.

So the new problem is which self-help book, with all its smug, self-righteous preaching should I burn? Pixie Head has the answer. She's a useful one to have about...

It's called The Secret, and apparently millions of people all over the world have taken great comfort from it. I lasted twelve pages before my gag reflex started to act up... It's a book that tells you how to get anything you want. Literally. Anything. New car? The Secret's got the answer. Religious enlightenment? The Secret will tell you where to go. Want to fall in love and get married? The Secret has a friend that would so suit you, and you'll both be married and happy in no time. It's the miracle book for people who don't want to actually learn anything from life...

Token Northy calls me a Nazi, and I've to grudgingly admit that I'm enjoying burning the book way more than I thought I would.

There's a self-righteous, pompous, snobby, Neanderthal pyromaniac lurking inside me. It's a weird feeling, because I'm definitely against the burning of books. I'm against any form of censorship or thought-control. I'm in favour of different opinions and new ways of looking at things, so this really should go right the centre of what I don't like... but I like burning things.

Here's a photo of me being a pyro...

To be honest, I'm kind of glad I've got this one done. Thing 4 is tomorrow... what to do, what to do...

P.S. Keep the new suggestions coming. Some of them are awesome, and it's starting to pick, so we might actually get a finalised list by next month. Please and thanking you....

Thing 2 Coke and Mentos Thing

This is a picture of disappointment. This is what disappointment looks like. Sort of bubbly and foamy, and almost certainly flat. The Frenchman referred to this as a "science fail". I'm forced to agree. And epic science fail. Wile E. Coyote was more successful than this... honestly.

It's one of those kind of urban myths you always hear about. The euro version of pop-rocks and coke in the US. We've got diet Coke and Mentos sweets.

The hype says: If you drop Mentos into Diet Coke a massive explosion will occur. It'll be epic. You'll be covered in fizzy cola, the plastic bottle will be ripped apart, as much by dint of pure awesomeness as by the chemical reaction. Your friends will be impressed. Women will fall in love with you. Movie stars will tell in interviews of how they're your friend. Epic science victory.

The reality says: Some Coke will fizz up and pour out of the top of the bottle. Some of the garden stones in your back yard will get wet, and later sticky (and not in the good way). You'll have made a mess and ruined some perfectly good Diet Coke (and in our case, some reasonably priced Tesco Cola). Anti-climactic science fail.

Dr Frasier, Token Northy and The Frenchman were equally underwhelmed. I've seen episodes of Fair City that didn't let me down this much. Here's a picture of Dr Frasier and me, being unimpressed:

So we're off to a bad start eh? I smoked a cigarette through my nostrils while half up to my neck in beer and wearing a tennis outfit, and I've made some Diet Coke fizz.... hardly earthshaking stuff. Tomorrow's another day...

Thing 1 Smoke a Cigarette Through Nostrils

Did you know that your nose is basically just a lump sticking out of the vertebrates that have evolved to protect your nostrils? Yep. That's what it is. For breathing out of, and for smelling with is what we know it's for... For smoking out of? No. That's ridiculous surely...

So The Project starts with the stupidest, most Jack-Ass style disgusting junk I put on there. Basically, it's my birthday. My mates are having fun, there's a party slowly developing around me, and I totally forgot to organise something to do to kick off The Project. Yep... Stupid is as stupid does.

So I decided to pick the "Smoke Cigarette Through Nostrils" bit. Calling it revolting is only the start of how manky it is. My nose hairs are singed. I smell only cigarette butt. My beer tastes like crap... Stupid Project. The nose, awesome as it is, was never designed for this crap. So this blog post should be dedicated to the memory of me being able to smell things; cakes baking, food cooking, grass being cut fresh, a big cup of coffee brewing. These things I must now live without. Smells are totally underestimated.

I spoke with Big Red, Dr Frasier and a few others over coffee about how smells can totally transport you back to your childhood. Something triggers an emotion and the memories come flooding back... not for me anymore. Sad face.

But at least we've kicked off eh? The long road just begins. For photographic fun, check out the profile pic here on Blogger.com, cos it's proof that I did something that disgusting. Here's hoping the rest aren't as manky...

Good God there's only three days left...

Okay so here's the deal. I got all caught up in moving into the new house, and the subsequent parties, messing and general camaraderie that goes with that (Beerpong rocks by the way), so I still haven't finished The List. This is vexing, since I've got three days till the start of the Project (that's right, I said vexing, it's a real word, and I'll use it even if you are judging me). So I came up with a cunning plan... Baldrick Style... The Project starts on Wednesday, my 26th birthday, as planned, and I fill in the other 98 Things I need before I run out of days to do them in. This way, I still get to beg for your help, and I get to do fun stuff. Who loses? Nobody. Except society.

So, the problem now, if you want to call it that, is that I don't know what to start off with. I was going to go with smashing a guitar, or maybe a horse racing meet, but I'm open to all manner of suggestions... wink wink. See what I did? I made a sexy joke...

Updates on the progress of The Project starts officially this Wednesday. hands up if you're excited about it...

Now hand up if you're just excited... (Another sexy joke, I'm on a roll....)

Here's the latest update of Things so far...

Be naked for a day
Eat a raw egg
Smash a guitar
Meet a pornstar
Sleep rough
Dress in drag
Streak
Lie down under a wind turbine
Scuba dive
Hack into a computer
Get onto a bus to an unknown destination
Play a song on a guitar
Fight in a boxing match
Invite a stranger to dinner
Cut someone else’s hair
Chop down a tree
Wakeboard
Jump out of a moving car
Kiss a monkey
Write a computer program
Put something on YouTube
Plant a tree
Run a marathon
Climb a mountain
See the Eiffel Tower
Go a day without electricity
Visit a sensory deprivation tank
Go on a vision quest
Make and eat a salad
Eat blue steak
Write a fan mail
Make a bath of jelly.
Make a three figure bet
Swim in the Shannon
Drive or sail a boat
Wear all clothes inside out
Go fishing
Milk a cow
Have a spin in a chopper
Punch a clown
Do the skateboard “olly”
Go speed dating
Eat sushi
Go to a Star Trek convention
Bake a cake
Get a tattoo
Build a treehouse
A night out with no booze
Kiss the Blarney Stone
Start a fire from scratch
Knit a scarf
Smoke a cigarette through my nostrils
Fire a real gun
Cycle through a drive thru
Cycle to work
Be blind for a day
Make pottery
Back, sack and crack wax
Spin the bottle
Be someone’s slave for a day.
Get a piercing
Wear odd shoes for a day
Barber shave
Drink sacramental wine
Wear women’s underwear for a day
Make an origami rose
Go hunting
Dye my hair a ridiculous colour
Lie in a coffin
Stay overnight in a haunted house
Don’t speak for one day
Drive from Malin to Mizen Head
Sit in every eat in Thomond Park
Read the entire Bible
Fly a plane
Juggle
Be mam for a day
Introduce myself to all my neighbours
Weld something
Smash a computer monitor
Jump off Ardnacrusha Bridge
Watch an entire box series of some girl’s television show
Cut turf
Play cricket
Play a full round of golf
Busk
Foodfight
Smoke a pipe
Play grown up 45
Make a petrol bomb
Do that thing with the coke and the mentos.
Picnic on a roundabout
Watch all six Star Wars in one day.
Write my name using my toes.
Get one of my own t-shirts made
Build my own lego army
Get a cake/pie in the face
Blow something up
Take a tango lesson
Play an online shoot em up
Swim with all my clothes on
Attend a non-catholic religious ceremony
Write a letter to the Times.
Write my own crossword
Stay a night in Longford
Speak only in sarcasm for the day
Write my own obituary
Camp in my back garden
Write a song
Set up a large dominoes game
Trace the family tree
Say yes for a day
Learn another alphabet
Go to Newgrange
Go to the Giant’s Causeway
Make a sauce from scratch
Write a limerick about limerick
Invent my own country with a flag and anthem
Attend a drag show
Get my fortune told
Count to 2,000
Make a vegan dinner
Make a human pyramid
Make a perfect fast-food dinner
Drive a motorbike
Wear a kilt
Go-kart racing
Make skittle vodka
Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes
Bid at an auction
Eat tofu
But 1,000 penny sweets
Adopt an animal
Go grape-crushing
Make a lemon-battery
Have a pint in a particular sibin
Make a balloon animal
Teach a class
Fire a bow and arrow
Spend a day trying to solve a rubix cube
Wash car windows at traffic lights
Wear and England jersey for a day
Stay outdoors for 24 hours
Queue overnight for tickets to something.
Be buried completely in sand
Cycle a tandem bike
Use a ouija board
Make and drink coftea.
Eat as many hubba bubbas as I can.
Go horse racing
Attend yoga or pilates
Visit the Arann Islands
Work with a homeless shelter
Have a Mohawk for a day
Go to Oxygen
Make and play my own boardgame
Build a for using as much furniture as possible.
Learn and identify 10 constellations
Enter “rate my poo” website
Get an action bed-jumping photo.
Go to a foreign language country alone
Rollerblade down a hill
Be left handed for a day
Deliver a pizza
Visit every county in Leinster
Do a handstand
Donate blood
Brush my teeth and drink a bottle of OJ.
Go shopping with a girl
Break a mirror
Go on a blind date
Invent my own cocktail
Take the Spur Steakhouse challenge
Build a table and chair.
Sell something on ebay.
Hug my binman
Eat haggis.
Paint a picture on canvass.
Eat a pomegranate
Make a coconut bra
Meet an ombudsman
Bet on an obscure sport
Randomly ring a foreign country for a chat.
Have my fingerprints taken
Crush a can with my head.
Get my shoes shined
Have a car boot sale.
Be in a parade.
Go on a gay night out.
See the book of Kells
Barter in a department store
Do a mensa test
Eat only red food all day
Hire a bouncing castle
Kick a rugby penalty
Skateboard holding a moving car
Be Goth for a day
Swim Kilkee bay
Speak when spoken to
Smash a walnut with a sledgehammer.
Wear a free hugs sign- give hugs
Make a tree swing
Visit an old folks home
Offer free lifts from the airport.
Get a business card made
Limo ride with the sunroof open
Beauty spa treatment
Flip a pancake
Make pizza from scratch
Learn to moonwalk
Eat an insect
Play softball
Play ultimate Frisbee
Build a raft
Take out a personal ad
Colonic irrigation
Swim with a dolphin
Sew a hole in something
Down a pint of Guinness
Full body massage
Do the table cloth magic trick
Send a message in a bottle
Pull a handbreak turn
Wear pyjamas going grocery shopping.
Wear fake nails.
Attend Gamblers Annonymous
Make some jewellery
Make an oil painting
Rent a sports car…
Burn a book.
Snowboard.
Wheelchair for a day.
Pretend to be a mannequin
Buy women’s underwear
Buy a vibrator
Go Christmas carolling
Take a pregnancy test
Make sock puppets
Go wild flower picking
Break a window with a baseball bat.
Try to read a book backwards
Buy shares in something.
Jump from one tree to another
Cycle a unicycle
Cut someone else’s toenails
Dress like a scumbag and go for a pint.
Wear leather pants
Couch surfing in limerick
Build a wall
Spend an entire car journey tied up in the boot
Giant Art Attack
Tee off into the ocean
Make a lemonade stand
Speak klingon
Find another Dan Mooney (not family) go drink…
Eat snails
Eat froglegs
Collect someone at a bus stop.
Eat fruit only for a day
Speak Irish only for a day
Spend a day with an imaginary friend
Get colour matched for foundation at a makeup counter
Sell something on the street
Benchpress my own weight
Whittle something
Handout leaflets with a positive message
Bet one hundred euro on black at roulette
Hot air balloon trip