Life's a bastard...but sometimes it lets up

The life and times of an ordinary Dublin girl. Follow her journey as she finds out working from home really ISN'T about watching Oprah all day and that perhaps men aren't really all bastards.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Don't forget February 14 - Pah!

THERE is a huge sign on the side of a garden centre which I pass every day on my way to work which reads "Don't forget February 14, Valentine's Day". Ha! As if I could!

It seems every way you turn you're confronted by massive teddy bears, cut out hearts, boxes of chocolates and sick making smoochy couples.

Bitter, moi?

Ok, well, maybe I AM a tiny bit bitter. Valentine's Day is great if you're part of a couple (Daddy Dunne still sends Mammy Dunne a card every February 14 signed Guess Who?) but not so great if you're perpetually single, like yours truly.

This year it falls on a Tuesday which means that both this weekend AND next will be taken over by smug couples celebrating, meaning single people (aka me) will have to stay at home in front of the telly with the best part of the Lams Chinese Takeaway menu.


It’ll be a nightmare on Tuesday too, cos you know there are always those people in an office who make the same ‘oh sorry I’m late I couldn’t get out the door because of the amount of Valentine’s I got’ jokes while you sit there thinking about the pitiful bowl of pasta which is all that will be waiting to welcome you when you get home.

And every time a deliveryman comes to the door you’ll be secretly on the edge of your seat thinking that maybe, just maybe, the flowers might be for you from some hitherto unknown admirer…only for the pretty girl from accounts to come beaming back into the office wittering about her ‘so thoughtful’ sweetie.

Double sigh.

The sooner Valentine’s Day is over the better as far as I’m concerned. I think the next ‘holiday’ at least here in Ireland is St Patrick’s Day and that just concerns drinking and waving flags about. Now THAT I can handle!


Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Knackered Kaz lives...but is slightly queasy!

Originally uploaded by Knackeredkaz.
SO due to the fact that I’m typing this you can assume I’m alive and well and haven’t been eaten by a shark, as my absence from the bloggosphere would suggest.

My apologies for not posting, I have no excuse, I am interminably lazy and have spent the past couple of weeks re-reading my Harry Potter books in the evenings on the couch.

And eating biscuits.

Yes, the diet is NOT going well. In the last few weeks I’ve managed to stay the same weight and haven’t put any on, but still, I’m supposed to be shedding the pounds not keeping them.

I’m actually disgusted with myself because my gorgeous baby niece is being christened this weekend and I have bought (for once) an entirely suitable (and sassy) little black dress and high heels to wear, which would look much better if I were a stone lighter.

It still looks nice and formal and dressy and I’m happy enough, but the plan was to lose a stone before the christening so that I’d be 100 per cent happy with it instead of 80 per cent, but yet again I’ve let myself down.

I’ll do better in the future.

Anyway moving swiftly along from how disgusted I am with myself, to how disgusted I am with men, well with one man in particular…but no, with men in general.

Allow me to explain.

This morning travelling on the bus to work, I witnessed a male student (aged about 19) snorting, coughing and if that wasn’t enough spitting bodily fluids all over the bus very loudly, all the while proclaiming “aw yeah, I needed that”.

This went on for about 20 minutes, literally every time he opened his mouth, despite everyone on the bus simultaneously holding their hands over their mouths, myself included, trying not to be sick.

To top it off, when he got off the bus, he proceeded to hold one of his nostrils closed and snort fluid out all over the ground, grinning and cheering himself on like a prize gorilla.

Every morning when I’m waiting for my bus to work I see men, for it is always men, coughing and spitting at the bus stop, which is disgusting enough, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen it proudly carried out on the bus itself.

My question is this – why do men feel the need to snort and spit like this? I could partly condone it if it were in a sporting situation where male friends have told me it is almost impossible not to spit on the pitch due to the exertion you’re under, but surely it can’t be condoned on the bus?

The vast majority of women do not spit on the ground. I know I’m generalising here and there’s bound to be some irate comments off people saying they’ve witnessed women spitting but in my opinion it is few and far between.

For every 50 men I have seen spitting in the street, I have seen one woman do the same, so it appears to be a male phenomenon and it turns my stomach – do you people have no manners?

If I desperately need to blow my nose, clear my throat, unblock my sinuses or otherwise I use a tissue, do it quietly and where possible do it in private, I don’t hock up all over the bus.

I am not a prude and I have been known on occasion to be sick into a bush (Mammy Dunne would be so proud) but I really can’t put up with spitting, particularly the level I witnessed this morning.

So far I have held my tongue in situations like the one this morning but in future I’m going to say something and in fact I think I’ll carry a spare packet of tissues with me to offer sweetly to the offending parties.

That’ll show ‘em!

Cartoon: images/1111

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