impatient, obnoxious, petty, argumentative, and obsessed over meaningless details

Category Archives: other

nama swag bag

Its the guys who brought you “shirt off my back”:

“Daylight robbery: European Commission subject of playful protest over bailout”


not a single fuck was given that day

Trying to trade the stock market today but I gave up when it was ripping peoples faces off as those in the business called it. This is all I can think of afterwards:

a doctor or a lawyer or something

I am occupied with some stuff at the moment. My new obsession gives me little time to ponder stuff to toast

I did find a trange voiceover by Christopher Walken in an old clip for a computer game. I had been searching for a long time to find this.

the muscles from brussels

I asked a Belgian colleague about the muscles from Brussels and he said “you mean the disgrace of Belgium?”.

I read in January that he wanted to fight again. He looks all botoxed up and has sold out to Coors:

It has been a long time since he danced in a unitard (with white socks and black shoes) at venice beach. Disturbingly the lyrics include “tight leather pants or nothing at all”:

I previously wrote about van dam band.

15 Guardian users agree

Guardian article “Why I set about hitting the News of the World where it hurts”

“That evening I began tweeting (@the_z_factor), knocking around a few ideas with friends: egging NewsCorp’s offices? Going to the shops on Sunday and turning over all the copies of the paper? It didn’t seem enough.”

One response proved popular:

It could be worse, you could be doing it with someone ‘filming ya’:


In society a lady, a prostitute in bed

Katie Price aka Jordan arriving back to her hotel last night from Krystle nightclub in Dublin after being at the Style Awards in Dublin, Ireland.

Fernanda told me this expression. She said it is common to hear in Brazil. As I tried to contain myself after the coolest thing I had ever heard and she added: “in Ireland it looks to be the opposite: the girls can look like whores but if guys talk to them they go crazy and they are really rude and bossy”.

One of her friends told me that they often meet people who think brazilian girls are slutty because sometimes they show them in a bikini at a football match. On the other hand none of them ever get dressed up like this. Noteworthy for them are the times you can see another girls vagina.

The expression is also known as “A lady on their arm and a whore in the bedroom”. I was looking it up and and I came across an article on

There’s an old joke that goes: Good girls say, “No;” bad girls ask, “When?”

It’s the classic dichotomy for the male psyche — madonna vs. whore, Mary Ann vs. Ginger, housewife vs. ho, homebody vs. party girl. Which of the two is better?

As men, we’re instantly aroused by the Pamela Andersons of the world, but inside we know we could never tame — much less trust — a female like this. Instinctively we seek out more normal, down-to-earth women when we’re thinking of marriage and children.

Still, it’s a problem that never goes away. We want the best of both worlds: a princess on the street and a whore in the bedroom. Someone who is nice and treats us with respect, yet who acts like a wildcat in heat between the sheets. So just what are the advantages and disadvantages of dating bad girls and good girls? And is it possible to somehow combine the two types into one perfect woman?

taking a piss on the luas

why its just like the hills

I had a strange night in the suburbs at stepaside. I made the mistake of believing my old colleagues who said it was near the luas. I got directions over the phone from somebody from a romania who punctuated every sentence with the word “right”. I naturally got lost a few times. The place was dull and seemed to be populated by young families and dudes in pimped out bmws.

After an hour of Jay Z on MTV I knew this night had gone down the shitter, it was only a matter of how far down we would be at the end. I was glad I had only brought two beers. I even considered pouring half of my second one down the sink and going somewhere else. We watched some youtube and ate some pizza and decided to call it quits and to try to find the luas again.

At night the place looked much different. The apartment blocks that I saw being assembled from the back of a truck a few years ago actually looked nice a few hours later. In the daytime you notice an open face mine and some tv aerials in the background. You can also see how the exposed timber that is not yet 5 years old is starting to rot.

They way home was even less fun. The wait between trains was 17 minutes. We spotted some young guys on the platform and Nick said “they will be providing tonight’s entertainment”, and how right he was. The alpha knacker in the soiled tracksuit looked like he had sat on mud. He threw a bottle onto the street but it failed to break and just bounced along, he was probably disappointed by that showing. He was on the train and his antics just grew. He tried to take his friends jacket off and throw it out the door at the next stop. After that I heard him say “my brother was too afraid to smoke on the luas”. He put a rolled cigarette up to his lips and said “but I am not my brother” and he lit it. When nobody reacted in any way to what he had done he got up and opened the window. When we stopped at the next station he was looking around to make sure he was not going to be caught. He had his back to us and I started saying “they are here, they are here”.

I wished out loud that the security would get on the train and catch him. Once this round had ended without him showing something good he decided to up the ante and whip out his (presumably small) penis and urninate on the wall of the train. I said “I am calling the cops, get off the train”. He legged it to the front of the train and one of his mates too. His other friend stayed and said “he is only drunk”. I said “get off the train” and he left too. Then we stopped at dundrum and the security stepped on the train and I pointed at the piss and told them to look for a guy in a tracksuit at the end of the train. As they walked along the carriages he walked out the door. As he was going by us I said “that’s right you little fucking asshole” and he scurried up the stairs with his tail between his legs.

The security did not want to let the train move because it had been soiled. I was going to be to blame and I said to the people around me “sorry, I cant let that happen in front of me”. I asked the security if the train could move and he said “yes if you are ok with the smell”. I said “he hadn’t done much” to the sound of some laughter from others. I said “if this was london or new york someone would take a shit on the train and it would keep going”.

Some guys from the country behind us started telling a story about a friend of theirs who once took a shit on a bus.

The train pulled out of the station minus one pissy pantsy knacker. My twi slight regrets are that I didn’t call him ‘bitch’ like Jessie Pinkman. The other was that I didn’t push him in the back as he was pissing. This would have given him something extra to remember the night by. In all honesty though, I would be too worried in case even a drop got anywhere near me.


your in my world now grandma

2011-06-10 18:25

I was watching tv3 today and the lady from the nursing home at the centre of the abuse allegations was SOOOOOOOOOOOO upset at mere allegations. She reminded me of the the girl I heard last week in Tesco in Dundrum. She managed to construct an entire sentence using from the word “LIKE” five times.

The tragedy of Rostrevor House is like an onion. Peel off one layer and another is revealed. But even the very first layer is a horror.

The thought of an old lady being brought to the toilet by a man is puzzling, when female staff would have been available. No woman wants to be in a toilet with a man, but a woman in her 70s or 80s, even if she was suffering dementia would find it weird and scary. That a male care worker would insist on bringing a particular old resident to the toilet and that screams from the toilet would immediately and inevitably be heard, is frankly horrifying.

The carer involved may be something like Ben Stiller in Happy Gilmore


getting off the grid

An unusual series of programmes on bbc called ‘all Watched over by machines of loving grace’. It all sounds a bit vague and trippy but the episode mentioned above outlined past uses of technology which were the forerunners for items used in modern times (skype, farmville, google etc.). This episode shows how twitter was used to overthrow regimes due to a desire for self determining hierarchies. It has some interesting moments but ends cynically.

An early iteration of skype

The idealistic name is from the 60s and deals with utopian ideals and a vision based on the natural order as described in Richard Brautigan’s Manifesto:

I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.

I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.

I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.

There was a segment in the show about a commune. The were living in hexagonal buildings in an idealistic society where they traded with each other. Everyone was considered equal and nobody was the leader. A power vacuum developed and a psychotic bully emerged unchallenged.


I was reminded of this in a conversation with a friend during the week. He was telling me that he is toying with the idea of getting himself off the grid among other endeavors. He told me of an alliance he had made, and it seems broken. I learned about some mutual acquaintances who had set up a vegetable farm. All was going well until it seems a branch Davidian style of leader has emerged from the vacuum and orders them to behave like militant hippies who even slaughter animals. My friend He seems close to being off the grid. He was unaware of the existence of linked in so if that is the litmus test then he is close to this particular objective.


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