Hey there, remember me?

I have a whole raft of excuses, er, reasons why I haven't been blogging as often.

1. The laptop battery isn't working so I have to sit by the cold, cold, back door to type and the chair is creaky and I hate sitting over there.
2. I bought a keyboard for the ipad but it's got an American keyboard and only one shift key which causes the touch typist in me huge problems.
3. Puddins.   Frickin' Christmas puddins everywhere.
4. Hanging out with friends.
5. Apparently, being too busy doing other stuff, to play with the kids. Okay, I know this one has nothing to do with why I haven't been stopping by as much but I'm feeling guilty about not spending time with the kids so I'm dropping it in here.
6. Cakes,
7. Illness - see mentalness.
8. Being too wound up to type - No. 1 didn't get into school, secondary, and I was/am too wound up to type/talk.

Yeah, them's the reasons.  They're not great reasons but they are all I have.  Have loads of stuff to tell you and, if you hang around, I'll tell you.

Why the long face? Oh yeah, rape is not funny.

I've been thinking about this post for a while now.  Wasn't sure if I was going to go with it but, well, it's been bothering me.  Bothering me for two reasons.  The first being: I said nothing, I just left the room.  Secondly: I respected this person and they have dropped by a fucking mile in my estimation. 

I told a couple of friends about this because I wasn't sure if it were just me.  It would appear that, no, it's not just me.  Some things you just DON'T JOKE ABOUT, no matter how frickin' immature you are or no matter how desperate you are to impress people.

I don't even think they read this blog but I don't mind, it's not for them.  It's for me.  An apology to . . . I don't know, whatever, but an apology nonetheless for staying quiet and not pointing out that the 'mouth' in question was a complete and utter arsehole.  I will, however, be forwarding a link to them.  I cannot speak to them for fear of my desire to smash their face in.

Sitting in company, mixed company a woman said 'a report has been done that has proven that faking pleasure whilst being raped will dissuade the attacker from continuing on with his attack'.  I heard this and my head snapped around, as if on elastic, and I dismissed it as a load of bollix.  "Jesus", I thought "Pretend you're enjoying it???  WTF??"  

But later someone picked it up and ran with it.  They said "I know what new job I'll get".  "I'll get a job teaching women how to fake an orgasm when being raped".  Huge howls of laughter all around.  "Oooh baby, yeah baby."

I left the room.

The following day they were still joking about it and 'faking' away good-oh.  I still said nothing.

The reason I said nothing is because I was so disgusted by that person and felt so let down by that person I genuinely couldn't bring myself to say anything to them.  Nothing at all.  Not goodbye, hello. . . nothing.

What horrified me is that I thought I knew them really well.  

I thought they were an adult and mature. 

I thought wrong. 

So, fucko, here's the thing with it  416 people (men and women but mostly women) were raped in Ireland this year.  That's 416 people whose lives were destroyed.  The year isn't even over yet.

Because I associate rape as a crime against women (and I do know it's not) I'm going to continue in a female vein.  That's 416 women, daughters, cousins, nieces, wives, sisters, mothers, friend's lives who have ruined.

Tell them they should have fucking faked their way through it.  "Oh baby, baby". Tell them, that in their terror, that in their desire to simply survive, they should have pretend they were making love with their husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends, lover . .  whatever.  Yes, you tell them that the best way to survive is to act like you're loving it.

You, my friend, know who you are.  And I am determined you shall read this.  I am determined that you think of your wife, sisters, sisters-in-law, friends, cousins, nieces, nephews, your own daughters.  I am determined that, if nothing else, the last conversation we chose to have together is one where I tell you what a fuckwit you are.  What an ill-educated, immature fuckwit you are.

Follow the link to Dublin Rape Crisis Centre and read the survivors accounts.  Read of the men and women who took their own lives because of this appalling crime.  

Fuckwit.  Rape is NEVER a topic for fun.  Rape is never a joke.  It is a serious crime and those who survive are wonderful and heroes in my eyes.

You, my friend, are an arse.  An idiot.  I didn't challenge you the night in question because if I had've, it would have been the straw that broke the camel's back.  I love a laugh, really love a laugh.  Have a wicked sense of humour I'm told but you weren't funny.  Several times I looked at you and wondered why?  How?  I do know that if my sons ever carried on the way you did I'd take them off this planet myself.  Cheap laughs are, cheap!!  I remember seeing Tommy Tiernan a couple of years back and he was earning his fee by taking the piss out of the homeless and the handicapped.  I went off him that day.  Never watched him again.  He'd been really funny up until that point but then the laughs he went after. . . well, not funny.  No fun in poking fun at those who cannot defend themselves.  Jesus, it wasn't satire or irony it was just shit.
I like to think that this wasn't 'really you' and that you were trying to impress people.  But, really????  If your friends are impressed by that kind've talk I guess I'm not impressed with your friends.  Think before you speak and learn some bloody respect.  You weren't big.  You weren't smart and you were far from clever.  
p.s. Next time you're joking about rape, picture the one you love most in the world.

Sorry not been in touch

What a week.  What a fortnight!  Basically I've been sick for the past two weeks.  A cold turned into blech and then blech turned into a sinus infection and then migraine and then I got shouted at and . .yeah, what a week.

I seem to be attracting men, random people, who seem to think it's perfectly alright to scream and shout at me and tell me exactly what they think of me.

The first time, couple of weeks back, I was 'screamed' at via email.  Heart banging I replied and he screamed some more.  He then, man that he is, apologised by text. Twat. Not man enough to come to my door and shout at me and definitely not man enough to apologise for making my day/night fucking hell.  Bastard.

The next bloke is getting a cake off his wife for his birthday.  I needed a quick photo as the photos I had weren't good enough and when he saw me take a quick snap he was out like a flash, whereupon he started shouting at me, threatening and generally being unpleasant in my direction.

W.T.F???????????????????????  What is it with people these days that they are so angry?  Why can't they apologise when they realise they're in the wrong????  That's two men who have made me cry like a baby.  Two men in two weeks.  Fuckers.

Right, as I said, not well, sinus infection.  Not going to inflict myself on you anymore.

Going to lie down.

Nxxxx

p.s. A caker, a wonderful caker has hinted that she is bringing someone special to Dublin next year.  Please, please let it be Carlos.

Strange times

Am sitting here, after having a lovely day, big lie-in, breakfast, further sleeping and then a big day in the park with the men in my life.

I've just been invited to dinner.  I think I have the cakes under control and I've halfway through season 2 of Madmen.  Was quite happy until I turned on the tv and was brought down to earth with a bang.  Again.  

I've noticed that lately I watch stuff I've recorded or box sets.  I seem to have set out to avoid watching television live.  I think I'm doing it to avoid watching the News.  Which isn't like me.  I live on a relatively small island on the edge of Europe, next stop America type thing so I think I should watch the news, find out what's going on all around me.  I like Irish news broadcasting too, RTE btw, as it's non-sensationalist and the reporting is matter of fact and to the point.  No news on a loop, no doorstepping people to get the big reaction.  Just good news reporting.  Local news followed by national and then international.  

This week I'm avoiding watching the news because what is happening in Libya is soul destroying.  People looking to live in a democracy being blown out of it.  Being shot down for no reason other than they don't want to live under a dictator.  A dictator who claims his people love him.  A dictator who is shooting these people for their own good.  I feel especially sad because the rebels are losing ground.  They are being forced backwards and I think they are so brave.  I wish them well in their fight.  I admire their bravery and their beliefs and I can't watch the news.

Japan?  Tsunami??  My biggest fear.  Drowning.  Jesus.  There is a fuckwit on youtube who I now appear to be having a full scale row with.  He believes this is God's way of ridding the world of murderers, rapists, child killers, pedophiles and, oddly, Osama Bin Laden.  I'm shocked.  Both by his stupidity and his belief that God would do this.  Amazing to me that in this century someone believes that there are Gods.  Terrible Gods who wreak havoc on innocent people.  I mean, let's face it, most of the Japanese who have been killed or displaced weren't Osama Bin Laden or murderers or rapists of whatever.  They were just normal people, looking out for those they love and simply getting on with their lives.  

My God, whomever it may be, would weep at this great sadness and this huge loss of life.  My God is weeping. I feel like crying.  I can't watch the news because I guess I'm one of those people who can fall down in the face of such horror and loss.  I feel sadness easily.  I talk shit a lot too!!  But I do find it hard to watch the news.  I find it hard to listen to people who talk rubbish and start quoting fucking scriptures and shit movie titles when something this awesome happens.  We simply live on a rock, floating in space and that rock shifts and evolves and occasionally does so in such a huge, basic level that it kills innocent people.  Innocent people who lived, loved and have now left.

I talk a lot of shit but I feel too much sometimes.  But I do not feel anything for the fuckwit on youtube who thinks this is alright.

Still here

Just up to high doh.  I don't know why but I keep saying 'yes' to people.  Which means I have a tonne of cakes going out this week INCLUDING a raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake.  A great idea in summer but not in spring.
Also, the kids are on midterm.  I have a 6.30 am, AM!!!!!!, meeting tomorrow in CityWest and whilst I hope it leads to great things I am terrified it will as I am still cooking out of my kitchen, I have no room to breathe and . . .  I've just remembered I stripped my bed and didn't remake it.  Arse.
This week I've a Tangled cake to get out, a bouquet and a christening parcel thing.  Plus a chocolate fudge cake and the aforementioned raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake.  Nevermind the cupcakes for two markets and . . . I'm driving to Cork tomorrow.  To Fota wildlife park.
I feel like I haven't seen my kids, which isn't true but it just feels that way.  My head hurts and I'm starting to spaz out.
Deep breaths.  Deep breaths.
On the good side, I made this this morning.  And thankfully the SECOND batch of chocolate cupcakes didn't fail.  Like the first ones.  # 2 said "weren't they supposed to go up instead of in?" i.e. they sank.  Big time.

Catch twenty bloody two

I have an issue with people.  Employers mostly.  I have an issue concerning my lovely, talented husband.  The man who is becoming increasing great at cakemaking too.  

He just got turned down for a 'back to work' placement in the city centre. He did an online exam for them, met with them last week and they appeared to love him so much they introduced him to everyone in the building.  

Today they rang to say 'sorry, not enough experience'.  

I am so bloody angry.  More angry than I can even convey here.  

How is one meant to gain this 'experience' if no one will take a chance and hire you?  I really don't understand.  I  have two cakers who work with me and a third who wants me to teach her.  I don't get paid for this, I only benefit when I ask if they can decorate a cake for me.  Which they do.  They learn from my experience and I benefit from theirs.  Isn't that the way it should be?  Isn't that the way skills get passed on and we learn?

The company who didn't take my lovely husband on will never know how much they lost out on.  Firstly, he is brutally loyal to his bosses, always has been.  Always been a bone of contention between us.  I believe in loyalty but I also believe in sneaking the odd day off too.  He has a brilliant mind and is bloody quick at 'getting' things, something I am not.

They would have got him, at no cost to themselves - back to work remember, and they fucked it up.  Instead they'll pay for someone to develop a role that doesn't yet exist when they could've had Darren to make it perfect.  Their loss, not mine.  I get the man who is becoming a great baker and a great man.

He is not a failure.  I am not ashamed of him.

Deep Breaths

In the past two months I have had broken on me: My lovely vintage coffee pot, the last of my grannies serving platters - everything else got lost in the move and, today, my sculpture of the deer/horse/thing.  Which, despite my odd description, I loved dearly.

Who is the culprit?  Is it any one of the dozens of kids that traipse through here on a monthly, nay, weekly basis?  Is it any of the adults who come and play riotous games in our sitting room?  My kids?  NO!!!  It's my fucking idiotic husband.  

I didn't cry when the coffee pot got broken - not that important in the bigger scheme.

I didn't cry when my platters were broken - beyond tears I was so upset.

I fucking screamed today when my deer horse got broken because I am so bloody angry.  I take care of everyone's toys, dvds, machines that play dvds, books, clothes, whatfuckingever and there seems to be a distinct lack of respect for what is mine.  

If I was a paranoid person I'd say he was doing it on purpose but I'm not so I'm not.  

But I am a very angry person, I'm doing that hiccuping thing you do when you have a big cry.  I guess it's a bad time of year for me and the broken dear horse just reminded me of the platters.  I don't have a lot of stuff that I place high sentimental value on (most of that is upstairs in boxes, teeny baby clothes and pictures drawn by the boys and lovely birthday cards received etc.) but come on!!!!!!

As I shouted at himself.  IT'S NOT FAIR.  And it's fucking not.

Ramblings

Remember the night I went to bed early?  Well, I didn't manage to go asleep at all that night.  How shite is that?  Ended up getting out of bed at 3.30am and tidying up the house.  Good time to do it as everyone was in bed and no one was hassling me.  Isn't it amazing though, the amount of noise one can make without ANYONE waking up?  I tipped boxes of Lego etc. onto the playroom floor at four in the morning yet no one came rushing down stairs brandishing hotwater bottles or golf clubs, plastic ones mind.  No one!

I did however wake up poor Max and Rex from their lovely toasty slumber.  Poor feckers dragged themselves awake and started mooching for food (Max being our lovely tortoise and Rex our beautiful bearded dragon).  I felt so guilty for waking them that I covered their Viv. with my cardigan.  They were on the other side banging the glass and going 'here?  you!!!!  we know you're out there, we can see you through the hole-y bits in the cardi.  feed us!!!  you woke us up, c'mon.  please' etc.  At least that's what I was hearing in my head as they banged on the glass.  Okay, okay I know, they weren't banging on it with their bunched little fists they were just bumping into it but still.

Went back to bed at 7.30 and slept til 10am happy in the knowledge that, if nothing else, every toy was back in it's rightful place.

Very productive day from then on in.  Got the borrowed boy back and guess what?  He's running!!  Not walking but actually running.  So sweet, he's delighted with himself and keeps running from one to the other of us.  Don't tell anyone but I missed him.  

Also found a great use for left over roast beef.  If you follow this you'll know that we're big beef-for-Christmas dinner fans.  So yesterday it was either bin the beef (big enough piece too) or use it so I minced in the processor and turned it into a spaghetti bolognese type thing.  Firstly, I sweated off two medium onions and just as they were translucent I added 6 cloves of sliced garlic.  Another minute or so and then I added 3 tins of chopped tomatoes, 1 glass of frozen red wine (that's what I do now with the ends of bottles here), a pint of beef stock, a good glug of balsamic vinegar and let it cook off for about 2 hours to just thicken it up.  Added the beef, cooked it for another while and voila, very fancy spaghetti bolognese.  It was delicious.

What else has been going on?  

One of my favourite bloggers has said she'd make an apron for me (or aprons).  She is unbelievably talented and I thought 'if anyone can, Millie can' so I asked and we agreed upon how it would work and . . .  this is something like I'll end up with only difference will be the colours.  I'm currently cruising Etsy.com for fabric.  I'm thinking, as suggested by another brilliant blogger that I should use my card colours which are red and grey.  So, Millie, should you read this before I email you them's the colours I'm thinking of.  Xx

http://www.flickr.com/photos/21331279@N03/ - is where I found the photo, it's an example of what I'm going for.  Another example of rabbit hole internet.  Found this photo and then discovered this person is incredibly talanted.  Brlliant.


p.s. I just realised that the talented Millie's blog is on the sidebar here.  Needles and Haystacks.  

What in the buggery f. . duck!

I'm feeling quite hard done by today.  Many reasons.  One being I lose 20 phone credit/voucher/thing and, arse anyway, it was my last 20 quid and I need phone credit!  Secondly!!!!  I make cakes.  I make nice cakes and I'm not called the perfectionist confectionist for nothing so I was really pissed off today when I got given out to for being too expensive.  And lax.  Okay, I cocked up by not ringing on the day I said I would but genuine reason but I'm not too expensive!!  I checked!!!!  I was given two pics of cakes I'd made and asked could I do something similar for €65.00 and for 40 people.  I said "no, don't think so . .. could be looking up to €100 depending on how much decoration involved".  Today I got an email which reads as follows:

Hi Niamh,

Just got your voicemail there.  I think there has been a misunderstanding, as going by the below e-mail, I was expecting a phone call from you on Sunday. 

As there is no contact number for you on your website, and as time is of the essence for me, I had to look elsewhere. 

I have since sourced someone to ice and decorate a chocolate biscuit cake for me, (whilst also providing another non-iced choc. biscuit cake for cutting up but not for display) all for 80 euros.   Delivery included. 

Affordability is something you refer to on your website, however in these recessionary times I'm afraid I can't agree that 100 euros for a 10" cake is good value for money.  It's not a wedding for 150 people, just a simple christening for about 40 people.... 

Kind regards,

P.O'ed somewhere out there.

This is the email I wanted to send back:

Hi POed,

I am so very sorry I didn't get back to you there was a family emergency and it completely slipped my mind on Sunday.  On Monday I was so frickin' relieved everything was okay and so tired from the worry I went and forgot about you again.  I should prioritise I know but god damn it, the kid won over you.

There is a contact number for me.  In fact if you even put me into Google chances are you'll find me.  This upsets my husband no end I can assure you.

I am utterly stunned and delighted that you have managed to source two 10" chocolate biscuit cakes for your party.  In fact I would very much like if you would pass on their details as I am sure their cakes are, for that price, something to behold.  I would really love, if not too cheeky, if you could ask them to contact me so that I could get details of what chocolate they use etc. as I am obviously buying ingredients that are far superior to what my clients really deserve.  

I would like to think that for a wedding you would pay well for a decent wedding cake.  It's a special day and I believe that one should buy the best and most beautiful cake they can afford.  I know that cakers shouldn't benefit from your big day but instead donate their ability to design something truly beautiful, years of training and experience to you. 

Yours,

Really fucking pissed off of Dublin!

I am a good caker.  I am.  But now I'm a worried one.

Well!!!!!

Took the kids to the thing in Causey Farm yesterday and it scared the shit out of them.  Everything kind've backfired and I ended up with the three of them in bed with me!!!  It was bloody brilliant.

From the beginning:

Got to C's at 2.45 or thereabouts, emptied the car, swapped seats and were back on the road by 3pm (yes, we're that good), got onto the M1 and promptly got lost at Slane.  Doh!!!!  Ended up waving guards down for directions.  Also ended up ringing the farm itself.  This is what I could hear:

C.  Hi there, can we get directions please, we're a bit lost (cue giggling from me).

Them. fjlsfjsdlfjlsdfjsdlkfj - couldn't hear them y'see.

C.  Yeahhhhh.... that's the problem, I don't know where we are.

Them.  ?????

C.  Cackle, oooh, oh, there's a pub.

Them.  Proper directions as follows.

Can imagine everyone at the other end cracking up at the idiots ringing up from 'somewhere' looking for directions.  Either way we got there by 4.30.  Just in time for our tractor ride to the old house for our first ghost story.  Very good.  Next the small circus, not so good.  Then to Witches School which was frickin' fantastic.  We learnt how to make kittens.  We would've seen a cat made but yer man's farts were crap.  We had to put sno' in the po', then chewed up worms, which Cinderella herself first chewed up and spat around the place (Cinderella was THE best thing for me personally) and then she had some auld fella squat over the pot and fart.  Brilliant.  Kids loved it.  Loved her spaghetti worms and her baked beans snot.  

Then onto the fire girl, she swung fire around.  We all loved that.  The little wanky kids in the front were like 'heare, iz tha reaul fiure?' (dya love me dublin accent?  hahah) She said it was, they still didn't believe her.  

Then onto the TUNNEL OF TERROR!!!!!  Big caps for emphasis on Tunnel and Terror.  Had to drag Oz in and Arthur pretty much.  Carol did likewise with her two.  We kept saying things like 'it'll be great fun' and 'it's not scary, only pretend'.  Oh how we lied.  It was deadly.  The whole place, half a barn, was divided up into rooms and corridors by plastic.  So you had your dining room with gore, kitchen with gore and, oddly enough, a picture of Bertie Ahern in the fridge, then AaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAGHTHTHTTHT someone or two someones jumped on #1 and scared the frickin' bejaysys out of him.  Which resulted in the other four losing the plot as well.  The more upset they got the more er, hopeless me and Carol got.  I could hardly stand for laughing.  Especially when trying to cross the bridge.  The bridge in the tunnel with the lights going the other way so it felt like you were walking on the ceiling.  Ya ever try to walk a bridge the width of a dinner table with 3 kids attached to you? Well, it's not easy.  Got through that and ended up in a room where I could kind've see a face in the corner.  Asked the face if it was real.  The face replied 'I don't understand the question.  So I says 'I've no glasses on and the kids are terrified' whereupon the face says 'gotcha and bled back into the background.  Then someone grabbed my scarf and then I screamed.  Then everyone screamed and it was brilliant.  

Have attached photos of kids so you can see.  Carol giving out chocolate, Harry Potter fans will know that chocolate is great for a fright or an encounter with Dementors, only JUST managed to calm them down a bit.  Ha!  That'll be the last time they give me a hard time and keep telling me they're bored.

Carol went on the magic broom, doesn't she look fab.  My secret?  She's having another bubba!!  Fantastic stuff, so utterly thrilled for her and so utterly delighted it's not me! 

Mind you, it kind've backfired a bit as I ended up sharing a bed with all three of them last night as they were all too terrified to sleep alone.  

I think it was worth it though.  Go to Causey Farm, link below, as it's worth every muddy penny.

Hiding under the table from Cinderella, below. 

 Still hiding! 

 Fire Dancer.  Absolutely excellent, great taste in music too - Afro Celt Sound System I think

 After the Tunnel of Terror!!

 Poor Harry, poor Arthur hahahah

My mate Carol on her broomstick

Mammmmmmm Maaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwm

That was the noise coming from the car when I went out to collect the sleeping borrowed boy from it today.  I had taken an extra kid home with me from the playground today (tis okay, his ma knew) and did a couple of messages on the way back to ours.  By the time we got to the front door the borrowed boy was asleep and the three I could hear were rearing to go.  So flung open the front door and dove into the loo.  Put the washing out and made myself a cup of tea.  Whilst that was brewing I went out  to get the borrowed boy whereupon I heard the screaming above.  Arthur, sat in the 'back, back' of the car - the bit you get when you fold up the two bonus seats?! was screaming to be let out.  He thought everyone had forgotten him.  His brothers and friend had hopped out.  So had his ma.  Reassured him he hadn't been forgotten that I'd just needed to go to the loo.

But, you and I both know I did FORGET him.  

Several things

Had a most excellent night playing Cranium last night.  We had the two lads here and the lovely Shinners and Kenny.  We drank a bit.  Conail cheated.  Shinners can't hum (hey, interesting thing - try hum and hold your nose at the same time. . . you trying?  Can't be done!!  Isn't that mental?  I thought you hummed through your mouth too).  Darren was on one of the losing teams and I was on the WINNING one.  Had a blast. 

Woke up this morning to an empty bed so turned over and went back to sleep.  Got up, thinking 'grand, only 2 to mind,  #1's  at the match'.  Wrong.  Darren was out cold in #1's bed, the kids had feasted on tortilla chips and quality street and the match was well and truly missed.  Arse.  It's amazing how quickly you can clean a kitchen when you're cross.

Met my lovely friend Ger in M'hide for tea (lots of tea, I need it) for gossip, cake news and a laugh.  Funny, it's only our second time to meet but we've talked lots on the phone (oh, we met at a cake thing earlier this year) and just always manage to have a giggle.  Oooh, how girly.  'A giggle'.  hhaha. 

Legged it from there to here and then from here to the Point Village Market 'cos I wanted to see the Thriller flashmob.  The pumpkin carving.  The fun.  Yep.  All the stuff that is happening NEXT WEEKEND.  Jesus, that's the second time I've done that (cast your minds back to the space hopper debacle "where is everyone?" - Me.  "Ah, fuck it Niamh, it's next weekend" - Darren, having consulted his very clever phone.  Well yes, I did it again.  But tis okay as two great things happened.  Firstly, I have, correction, WE have a week to practice our Thriller moves.  There's even a rehearsal practice there at 1.30 next weekend if you fancy it yourself.  Two.  I met a lovely fella called Bernard who works/owns the Matcha tea stand.  I've been trying to find matcha green tea for ages to make this recipe I have for cupcakes.  Was saying that to Bernard and he said he'd love to taste them as he wants to sell lots of tea flavoured things so he gave me some.  Enough for at least 30 cupcakes.  Fingers crossed that they turn out well as I want to be a famous caker baker.  Also got a cup of matcha green tea and it's very nice indeed.

Billy got a free sausage off the grill people.

Now, I sit here typing this listening to the X Factor show.  I don't know how it happened but I think I've been sucked in.  Darren is disgusted but I think it's magic. 

Oh God!

Just got a lovely text saying "Put your feet up and have a brew.  I will collec tthe boys and meet ya at pjps if that suits".  If it suits??  It's a sign there may actually be a god!  I put a cake on at noon without checking how long it takes to cook.  It takes over an hour and a half.  I only had an hour before having to leave to get kids.  Now thanks to lovely mate I can cook cake to perfection and actually eat my breakfast.

Very, very tired.  Very, very down.  Think it's cos I keep thinking 'this time last week I was . . . .' etc. etc.  I love my lads but it was so nice to be away from them for a couple of days.  Been very tense since I got back, numerous factors e.g. having to hit # 1 for website money, not being, I dunno, glam enough for school and the noise levels in house.

Still, shall be decorating house for halloween today so that should boost us all.  Me!  Lol.  Delivering a cool cake tomorrow.  Not reallly much for me to do but my god, M.  She is brilliant.  She made the most beautiful figures for the top of the wedding cake tower.  The girl is a genius.  Shall post pictures later.

Off now to change a filthy nappy, make my breakfast, make the borrowed boy some lunch and have that cup of tea.  Was going to be sarky over yer wan's comment on my appearance but too tired to be bothered.  Although, I think I am bothered.  Whhhhhhhoooooer!

Pah!!!!

So, I should be in bed cos I'm tired and cross. 
I'm tired and cross and I can't bloody sleep.
I hate being tired and cross and tired because it just makes me more tired and I'm so bloody tired as it is.

I'm starting to believe in the death penalty

Well, this isn't the first post I expected to be putting up after my trip to Birmingham.  Nah, instead I'm writing about a lovely bloke, Lukasz Rzeszutko, who worked in my local fish shop.  Kish, I've mentioned it before.  It's where I buy my fish.  Fish sold by lovely, helpful people.

He was murdered on Saturday night. 

I can't say I knew him that well.  But he was someone who obviously enjoyed his job and didn't get bothered when you rushed in, 5 minutes to closing time, trying to make up your mind what would be best for dinner.

He was murdered.

He was murdered by a group of lads hanging around Coolock Industrial Estate.  A group of lads with nothing better to do than kick the head in of some poor bloke.  A bloke who was minding his own business and going to work at 5a.m. 

Murdered.  By a couple of scumbags who were . . . I don't know, bored.  Fed up with their lot?  I'm fed up with my lot but I'm not kicking someone's head in.  I'm not hanging about picking on a lone bloke.  A fella on his way to earn his wage.  Most decent folk are muttering and grumbling about the state of things but we're good folk.  We put our heads down and get on with it.  We don't get pissed and kick some poor man's head in.

His parents have come to get his body.  His girlfriend is left alone.  All because a couple of c**** had nothing better to do than pick a fight with some fella doing nothing more than going to work.

A guy was murdered in a road rage incident in Sandymount, where I grew up, last week.  God knows how many other murders are happening out there as I type.  I'm starting to believe in the death penalty.  Hah, a couple of years and they'll be out on parole. 

Just like the bastards who stole a car and drove it into my cousin's car a couple of years ago.  Leaving his son without a dad and his mum and dad without their only son.  They were bored too, those lads who murdered my cousin.  They stole a car and drove it so fast it left the road and landed on top of his car.  Cracking his head.  Killing him.

I believe in the death penalty. 

Don'tcha hate . . .

. . . when you spend hours making something for dinner, fish pie in this instance, and the kids say . . .(imagine whiney voice here) "don't liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike fish pie'.   Bastards.

I want one

I don't really do labels, honestly, I don't.  Especially not this one as I always associate it with Paris Hilton or yummy mummies.  Or, worse still, women who know better but end up having the logo st-r-e-t-c-h-e-d across their arses.  But, I digress.  I want one of these.  I really, really do.  So, Santa, you can add this to my list of things I want from you this year.  Still being a good girl so . . . .  please, please, please can I have one?

The little dials turn, the oven opens and on the back it has a little electric cable.  The only thing that bothers me is the fact that the cherry is on the cake.  In the oven.  Wouldn't work, trust me.  I know these things.  I make cakes lol. 

Grudge Holding

Turns out I am harbouring one.  I didn't think I was one for holding one but I am.  Dare I say anything or should I keep schtum.  Hey, no need to reply as I know the answer.  I'm one of those people who like to keep the peace and keeps her mouth shut regardless.  Must learn to get over that.  There is a person in my life, on the periphery really, and I would be quite happy if they got off the planet asap because . . . well, because.  I need to keep the peace and they're irritating the fuck out of me.

Oh, and for the twats who insist on ramming their cars so close to you that you can't get at the buggy in your boot either get to the school earlier to get parking or park somewhere bloody else.

Also, if you are lucky enough to have access to someone elses wheelchair parking permit don't fucking tell me that you use it to get decent parking when it's raining.  As I will make it my business to see that you won't be doing it for much longer.