Thing 245 Galway Christmas Market

Okay okay, I really shouldn't be blogging about Christmas this late in January, but this is the situation we find ourselves in folks. We can get through this together if we try. If it makes you feel any better, we only took down our tree today (and of course by we, I mean Pony Boy, Token Northy and The Frenchman). I was sleeping it off.

There are many reasons why Galway is a more attractive city than Limerick. Much and all as I love my home town, and it really always will come first, it's impossible to argue that it's a prettier place to live than Galway. The pedestrian streets, Eyre Square, the sea, the promenade, my cousin Killy, handsome man that he is. Hi Killy. Plus Galway can do cool stuff like Christmas markets very well. And they did. It was a criss-crossing little labyrinth of stalls, Christmas smells, people being jolly (they weren't all fat though) and couples sucking face. Apparently people are much more openly affectionate in Galway.
It was a real spur of the moment trip. Finished work, nought to do with the day but shoot the breeze with Lady Awesome Mermaid Elegance and Dr Frasier. These things have the habit of snowballing - God Boy calls up to see what I'm at, and decides he's getting in on the festive action, Little Sister lives in Galway, so she pops down to join us. Now it's a right little festive party, the only problem being that I've made a giant fuss out of this day out, and now everyone's expecting me to deliver the goods, but it's FREEZING cold, and my tootsies (that's my childhood word for toes - welcome to a little personal slice of my life) felt like they had frostbite and were seconds away from falling off...

My poor little tootsies.

Still, we got some cool stuff done, and there were a few other firsts too. I had an ostrich burger, and a chocolate and hundreds and thousands covered pretzel, and I waddled all the way back to my car like the big fat mess that I am. We drank coffee and shot the breeze and I started thinking that Galway's not that far from Shannon if I felt like moving house...

Thankfully everyone else was as cold as me, so no one else was keen on hanging around too long, despite the seasonal fun. If they'd been mad to stay and hang out, I'd have had to stay, and then someone would have been sewing back on my large toe. And nobody wants that to happen.

What struck me most about the place was how nice it was to see people spending money. I know I'm a capitalist pig and all that mess, but this country is fairly boned at the moment and everyone's afraid of the bank, so it's nice to see people out at the market spending money on presents and banter and mulled wine before our Government reaches into our pockets and takes it off us... It's a real possibility.

What a cheerful merry Christmas thought...

One way or another, Christmas Market in Galways is cool, and though you're now going to have to wait eleven or so months to see it again, I highly recommend that you do just that.

P.S. Galway people are lovely aren't they? They just all seem very pleasant.

Thing 244 Roast Chestnuts on an Open Fire

I'm all to aware that I'm writing this blog after the event, but I promise you, this was Christmassy as hell at the time. It was a veritable feast of festive fun. There were other F words involved, good ones, not bad ones, but I can't remember them, even though I'm freakin' fond of flippin' alliteration.

Let me set a scene for you:

It's dark, and bitterly cold outside. Driving is treacherous at best, hell, even walking isn't exactly a stroll in the... well, you get my meaning. Inside a fire's been lit. The Christmas Tree lights are on. Little Flower is home for Christmas and sitting down with Pony Boy and me and Token Northy and The Frenchman. We're watching Christmas movies and drinking tea and wine. Jealous of us much? Sure you are...

Nat King Cole made this one really. The Christmas Song is a staple in December, and it's opening line... "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." There was no sign of Jack Frost, and if there was, he'd not be nipping at my nose. That's rude. But that festive song, as I was saying, and it's opening line were the inspiration for this Thing.

You may not have noticed, though you probably have, I'm a bit of a Christmas fanatic. I'm not a fan of winter at the best of time, but Christmas is a shining light. In fact it's about a billion shining lights. Some of which are tacky, but most of which are awesome.
By the way, that top picture is chestnuts. Have you ever seen the like? I'd absolutely no idea what they looked like. Which is funny in its own way, when you're listening to a song over and over again and you've no clue what it is you're singing about. Like when you're small and you're singing Mr Bombastic by Shaggy, and you've no clue what he's talking about.

So when The Frenchman picked me up a pack of chestnuts, I seriously thought he was giving me conkers for some reason. "Ugh... thanks dude. I appreciate this...." All the while looking at him like he'd three heads. Took me a while to get the message.

After that it was a straight forward job to just pop them in a dish, whistle some Christmas tunes and sit back and wait. Waiting is dangerous though, it leads to dozing off (incidentally, this is one of my gifts in life, I'm excellent at dozing). So we had slightly over cooked chestnuts...

See Fig 1.1

Fig 1.1 Delicious if slightly overdone...

Talk about your all time easiest, and probably most fun Christmas snacks. It's the most straightforward job to cook, just try not to doze off, then when they're cooked (you'll know when the shell starts to split just slightly), you can crack them out of the shells and eat the insides. Nutty and delicious.

Of course if it doesn't work out: Selection boxes will do nicely.

Thing 243 Eat Calamari

There's the calamari...
Now you see it...
Now you don't...

Calamari is a fancy way of saying squid. It's important to have fancy ways of saying things, because, let's be honest, asking for squid just sounds manky. For example; fois gras, is actually distended duck liver (thanks to the walking encyclopedia that is Dr Frasier and his only slightly unattractive assistant Token Northy). Can you imagine posh people ordering that in a restaurant? I say posh people, because I assume they're the only people who eat this crap right?

So anyway, here's a brief list of some weird junk I've eaten:

Shark.

Ostrich.

Springbok (not a South African rugby player. I can't make this clear enough people, I've never eaten a South African rugby player... It's a real and not in any way made up animal).

Buffalo.

Squid.

I told you it was a brief list. I guess vegetarians are going to be mad at me. Sorry I ate all the animals guys, but I find them delicious and good for me. Seriously though; how awesome is eating shark?

As I often do with this blog, I want to try to explain the experience of the day's Thing, but in this case, it's kind of difficult. It's practically impossible to describe what eating a type of food is like. Everyone just ends up saying "tastes like chicken, but...." and then they qualify the statement by digressing far from what chicken tastes like, and by the time they're done, you're still not any the wiser as to what it tastes like. Here's my best effort:

It's not soft, but you wouldn't call it tough either. It's a little oily, but what seafood isn't? It had breadcrumbs, but that only tells you about a different type of food doesn't it? Amm.....

It tastes kind of like chicken... except more like fish.

Screw you, I don't have to make sense if I don't want to.

Thing 242 Eat Like A Pig

This is like those grainy photos taken of UFO's, except instead of being UFO's, it's a chubby guy on his knees, stuffing his face with cereal. I'm all class folks. All class.

You know I love the Things that involve taking everyday sayings and extending them literally. I also love eating. This is relatively common knowledge amongst my friends and family. I'm fond of my bit of grub. Eating like a pig... well, it suits me I think. In a bizarre way.

There's nothing that better sums up the piggy quality to eating, for me, or indeed anyone else in the world than the age old tradition of kebabs at three am after a night on the town, and there's no better photo to sum this up: Sorry Pony Boy. I couldn't resist.

Mind you, that photo up there doesn't exactly cover me in glory. And I could go into elaborate and disgusting detail about the amount of times I've pigged out (see what I did there) after a few beers. Of course, I've never literally got down on my knees and stuck my snout in a bowl... until now.

Seriously, I bet my mam is super-proud right now.

Manners are important though. Honestly, and I can't think of anything worse than sitting down in company with someone who does the stereotypical bad manners shit: eating with mouths open, talking with mouths full, spraying it instead of saying it. I'm really not bothered if you use a salad fork with your starter (gasps of shock from Dr Frasier, who'd have you whipped for that), but get the basics right. The point I'm slowly getting to, is don't fill a bowl with food and eat it on the floor like a pig.
Besides everything else, it's sore, and not something that's fun. In it's most literal form, it's not. The back of your neck starts to hurt really fast, and i got cereal in my eye. Which is extra crap, because Special K has sharp edges. Yes, I was eating Special K, don't even think about judging me. Turns out that evolution gave us digits for a reason... social etiquette.

On top of that, Pony Boy stood over me while I was eating, and mocked me pretty relentlessly. Which I guess I'd do if I was in his boots.

So to sum up: I'm disgusting, and I hope my mam's not reading this...

Thing 241 Go to a Comedy Club

It is, and shall always be in my nature to do most things arse-ways. I shall endeavour to continue doing things arse-ways because it's the way that I'm most comfortable doing things. I've seen stand up comedy before. Oddly enough, the two gigs I've seen I was actually working at, so I wasn't there for the comedy, I was there for work. I really didn't pay attention. This though, this was a trip all the way up to Dublin with a gang from work, specifically to go to a comedy club for the purposes of laughing at funny jokes.

Having a drink or two too many and telling our own jokes down the back until a bouncer threatened to throw us out... now that was not the plan. We didn't interrupt the gig or anything. But there were shenanigans going on in front of us to which we decided to provide a running commentary. I'm sure we weren't nearly as funny as we thought we were, but when you see a guy continually try to swing the arm around the girl next to him, while she continually squirms and shrugs his arm away... well, that's pretty funny. Plus, and you can't underestimate this enough, I was wearing a ridiculous hat.

We were doomed to be giddy from the word go.
Now as all the world knows; Fr Ted is the funniest TV show in the history of television and everyone who's ever been on the show is hilarious and no bad things shall ever be said about them. In particular; Frank Kelly (Fr Jack), Pauline McGlynn (Mrs Doyle) and Pat Laffan (Pat Mustard). Alright, I realise my opinion isn't fact, but I can't be far wrong with this one. Fr Ted was a truly amazing show, and so Fr Ted night at the Comedy Club was surely going to be a winner.

They'd the guy who played Eoin McLove, the guy who played Fr Damo and the chap who played that in-the-closet priest who admits to being in love on the episode with the plane (he was the MC). They're not exactly heavyweights of the Fr Ted world, but it's sure to be a winner. Right?
Oddly, it wasn't great. Maybe it's because I was having such a giggle down the back myself, or maybe it's because there's only so much stand up comedy that I should take in during one sitting, but I seriously think I should have been laughing more.

Do you think that there might be a limit on the amount of comedy you should be taking in at a time? I mean, can you laugh up a quota for a day? It seems like that's what happened, or else priorities got tangled with drink and laughing moved down the pecking order behind more drinking and attempting an Irish dance in Messrs Maguire's... That wasn't embarrassing at all.

Next time I'll give the comedy club a miss... or the drink. I'll flip a coin to decide.

Thing 240 Lobby a TD

I've written a fan mail. It was nice and fluffy and a little bit gushing. I didn't know it at the time I wrote this, but I would eventually write my first ever letter of complaint (which would be ignored, but we'll get to that in about fifteen blogs time), but the first draft of this letter was... well... let's just say that it was strong. The kind of strong that gets you arrested because upon reading it, the receiver would be left with the impression that I was standing outside his window in a tenchcoat, staring unblinkingly at him... That kind of strong. So I toned it down a smidgeon...

Willie O'Dea... what can I say... This photo will haunt the man forever. It was a simple photo opportunity that was turned into what most politicians like to call: A political football. Whatever that means. He's not been the worst thing that ever happened to Limerick though... So I want to give him a second chance...

Dear Deputy O’Dea,

Seriously man, what’s with you and that party you’re a member of? It’s pretty obvious to anyone who looks that you’re dedicated to Limerick, and that you work hard for Limerick people, which is great, but it’s hard to be seen as the good guy when you’re on board with the crowd that destroyed the country. I know, lots of Fianna Fáil members are pointing to the success the country had when you were in Government, but let’s be honest; there was the world’s fastest buck made, and it was made without the first thought for a solid foundation. You made us rich, and then robbed us blind. You’re better than that. That’s why people vote for you, even though they don’t like your party.

If I’m being honest with you, I think you ducked out and went very quiet when we needed you to be at your most vocal during the Heathrow Slots at Shannon debacle. You had a party line to tow, and that’s always going to be the case with any politician in any party, but you have to know that you’re on the team with the bad guys. Your party’s had more shady and questionable characters than Quentin Tarantino movie, and now they’ve brought the country to its knees, in the greatest disaster we’ve ever faced – that’s not the kind of party line anyone should be towing.

Frankly, the people deserve better than Fianna Fáil, and you are better than them. Run as an independent. Break away from the “Cult of the Leader” that’s been so prevelant in your party for decades. Get out and do just for Limerick people. Not for Brian Cowan or whoever takes the poison chalice after he’s sacrificed on the altar of public outrage.

Look, the chances are that you’re going to get elected again, and most likely, Fianna Fáil will take a battering, but you’ll be in. Someone in the party will look to you for support in their run at the part leadership, and the whole thing will start all over again.

Kick them to the kerb, just as the Irish people will, because they’re not good enough for us, and you’re too good for them.

Sincerely,

Dan Mooney

I promise, the last one had way more curse words... but that one's never seeing the light of day...

So that's my contribution to politics for 2010. Profound and earth shattering it most certainly is not, but I like to think I'm part of the system now. Oh god... I'm part of the system... LET ME OUT!!!

Thing 239 Conduct a Survey

Don't you look at me like that... I've a whole bunch of totally not made up excuses for why I've not been blogging. You can't prove that any of them are made up... The eircom guy was at our house because either me or Token Northy broke the internets. Then I got sick. It was unpleasant. The fewer details you know, the happier you'll be.

For my part, I can't unremember the feeling of Winter Vomit Bug. Shudder...

But I'm back, and even though I've thirty blogs to catch up on, I'm now fully dedicated to revealing pointless minutiae of my life for your semi enjoyment...

So... survey says: Pineapple is NOT acceptable on a pizza. Take that pineapple advocates. In your collective faces.

It's amazing how few people want to talk to a guy with a clipboard. I mean, really. You'd have sworn I'd grown an extra head and was carrying a gun with the way people scurried away from me. I'm not that unattractive surely? Maybe it's the smell... I shower infrequently...

So while I printed out fifty survey forms, I actually only ended up getting thirty two of them done. I also got told to go fuck myself. Charming. And a happy Christmas to you too young man.

I strolled the cold hard streets of Limerick for about an hour and a half, catching people who slowed down enough for me to actually engage them, or smokers outside pubs. I was like one of those charity muggers. Except I didn't want any bank details and my survey was WAY more fun than market research. Got a real taste of unfriendly too, but let's not linger on the negatives, they'll all get there's when I can come up with an elaborate Wile E Coyote style revenge plot...

Here were the questions, in case you didn't want to look at the picture up top there:

Sex: (That's not an offer, it relates to gender classification).

Age: (Don't slap me ladies, and I'll believe whatever lie you want to tell me...)

Is pineapple acceptable on a pizza: (This is to prove a point, of course it's not, dessert has no business on top of your dinner).

Coffee or tea: (Because Irish people have love affairs with both).

Who's the most famous person in the world: (This is also to prove a point. I refuse to believe that the results of this will be Simon Cowell. We're better than that right?)

What's the world's greatest invention: (Because I thought it would give me some interesting answers.

Best show ever on TV: (Surely the Simpsons no?)

What's the world's greatest Christmas movie: (Because I was movie shopping and wanted some inspiration. It's not a crime to exploit the Project for personal reasons).

The results:

56% against pineapple on a pizza. 38% in favour, with 6% abstaining from answering. With the exception of one woman, all those in favour of pineapple were men. It was roughly fifty-fifty males to females in the opposition to putting fruit on your dinner. Fruit. On your dinner. What the hell is wrong with you? (And yes, smart arses, I'm aware that tomato is technically a fruit, but it is, in fact, the exception that proves the rule).

Tea won the battle of the hot drinks (I love using the word battle to describe things - it makes them sound way more epic than they are). 50% in favour of tea, 13% voted for neither. LEaving 37% in favour of coffee. I guess it's not really that big a surprise: Mrs Doyle did more for Barry's Tea than ever a plantation did...

For the most famous person in the world we've got a massively disappointing tie: Barrack Obama the US President tied for first with 13% each along side The Pope (I'm not kidding) and.... wait for it....

Wait for it....

Jesus.

Yep. Jesus, The Pope and Barrack Obama captured 39% of the vote between them with every other candidate getting just a single vote each. Mind you, I think some people may have been taking the piss. Who's Charlie Swan when he's at home. Also; continuing the vein of not being able to answer basic questions, one person abstained from voting on the grounds that they didn't want to leave anyone out. Excellently Irish. By the way, Simon Cowell did get one of those votes... but in a refreshing spoiled vote, someone voted for me too. Take that X Factor!

With 31% of the vote; the humble wheel was rated as the greatest invention ever. It seemed like a boring answer. Once again, there were two votes for nothing. Nothing great has ever been invented apparently. Some honourable mentions: The electronic cigarette picked up a couple of votes. I think it might have been from the guys that were selling electronic cigarettes though... And my absolute favourite: Nuclear. What's the world's greatest invention: Nuclear. Class!!

Yellow and once upon a time hilarious, with 37% of the vote; The Simpson's was the survey's resounding winner of the greatest ever TV show category. Lagging some distance behind with 15% was Friends, and tied with Friends was Only Fools and Horses. Who'd have thunk it? Some notable mentions in this category: RTE Six One News, Eastenders, Glenroe and just one shoddy mention for Fr Ted... sickener!

Finally with a significant 45% of the vote, the clear cut, home and hosed winner of the all time greatest Christmas movie was Home Alone. Home Alone? Not Scrooged with Bill Murray? Not Elf with Will Ferrel? Or The Santa Clause with Dudley Moore? Nope. It was Culkin's face slapping antics and Joe Pesci's zaney antics that won the battle for Christmas.

An hour and a half or so later and I decided to call it a day. Total achieved: Not much. Spite encountered: Plenty. Total impact on your life: Zero.

Unless you happen to be one of them pineapple lovers... now I've got proof that you're wrong!