Christmas Eve Eve drinks

Hi! What's the craic? Just a quick rundown on tonight before I head to bed. Linton Ice Tea was the star of the night. A great quote from Emsy the other night as well. "I wish I was born in the eighties!!!!" Erm... Ok Ems! Keep up the good work! Anyway there's a lot more to say. Keep watching the skies! Btw what is the plural of ski? And what's the plural of sky? If they are both the same and somebody says "keep watching the skies" then how is anybody suposed to differentiate the two long flat things from the big blue cloudy thing??!!!!??

The previous paragraph was written at the height of drunkeness after returning from the punchbowl. Thought I'd better leave it in for completion.

So anyway there we were, three handsome young twenty-somethings, each armed with a secret santa pressie, strolling into Wong's of Monkstown at 6pm for a nice romantic meal. As we were shown to our seats, we were subjected to a bout of harsh slagging from the hostess who cruelly made fun of us being 3 men at dinner together on Christmas eve eve all holding presents. Deciding on what to order was tricky. We couldn't decide whether to have duck, duck or duck. In the end we went with duck. Good duck. After the meal we strolled to Monkstown dart station but not before stopping in spar to admire the scantily clad Orlaith from BB6 on the cover of In Dublin. Just before arriving at the dart station, a call from the hostess at Wong's informed us of my misplaced jumper. Frankly I think the walk back to Wong's to get it did us good although the grumblings of Ali and Wig would suggest they did not share my feelings on this matter.

When we finally arrived at Ye Olde Punchbowl, the misplaced jumper no longer mattered. We were the first to arrive anyway and ordered our pints with great enthusiasm. Eventually more showed up and we invaded an entire section of the pub. This didn't matter as the rest of the pub was relatively quiet and the waiting staff were more than happy to tend to our every need and take our generous tips. Once all the participants in the Secret Santa had arrived, Sam the Bastad Santa handed us our gifts. Overall people were pretty pleased with what they got. I was delighted with my t-shirt that quiet aptly describes me in 3 wonderful adjectives. (Thanks Karine!!! We never got around to scoring though...) Arguably the most contraversial yet popular gift was Ali's stuffed 'wog. I think everyone at some stage got to spend some quality time with Linton and when he wasn't being sociable, he was being lynched from a high shelf. There was a great turnout at the Punchbowl that night with people from all walks of life. Even the gay community were represented with their most prominent ambasssador - Alard! The conversation was magic and I seem to remember enlisting the persuasive skills of Col and Danny to convey the beauty of Lost to my bro. Another conversation that sticks in my head was a lengthy one with Trish R.E. Aideen. Don't remember what exactly what was said apart from a mild hostility to news that she has a new boyfriend.

The Punchbowl stayed open till around 2.30, possibly for our benefit although not entirely sure. Upon leaving, several of us made use of an 8-seater taxi to bring us to Abrekebabra, Dun Laoghaire. On the way, the driver was treated to the extended mix of the definitive drunken version of Fairytale of New York, a capella! As we approached Abrakebabra, we noticed two rather large black bouncers outside. It was then Ali realised with horror the stuffed toy contained within his hand. The coal black face, the round white eyes, the fat red lips! There was only one thing to do. Linton was savagely stuffed up Ali's coat just in time. Sitting down eating our food, I loudly insisted that Ali whip out the 'wog under his jacket. Turning bright red he mumbled something about not knowing what I was talking about and resumed eating his "food", no doubt willing me to shut the hell up! Thankfully I did and turned my attention to stabbing Col with plastic cutlery. Such was the force of the stabbing attack that every individual stab snapped the piece of cutlery into several pieces. This eventually led to a shard of white plastic becoming lodged in my right pinky. That was the end of that little game! We left Abrakebabra without further incident and headed for Marine Rd to grab a taxi or two. To my outrage, the girls took the first taxi that came and I vaguely remember voicing my outrage to anyone who would listen for quite a while after that. When another taxi arrived I forgot all about it and I accompanied my brother, Alard and Col to home.

Arriving home, I encountered my mother in the kitchen getting a glass of water. Apparently I was adament that my mum have the best night's sleep EVER and insisted to her that she do several million times before she returned to bed. A great night out but I want to know one thing. How did I end up with Stef's USIT card in my wallet??!! Perhaps I can use it to bribe her into giving me a kiss on the lips next time I see her.

Now away with ye...

Emsy's 21st

Phew! What a night. It all began around 5pm on Saturday evening when Joris and Lenny arrived at my gaff. We settled down with a few beers to watch Munster V Newport. A close match in the end that could have gone either way for a while. Concrete Colleeee arrived half way through and afterwards we watched some music dvds until the taxi arrived to take us to the 40ft. After a couple of creamy pints with the boy and his girl, we hijacked another taxi to take us up to Ems'. The place looked amazing! A large marquee took up the entire courtyard and had cool Christmassy lights in the celing and loads of balloons everywhere. Everyone was dressed up to the nines and I thought I was looking particularly dashing. Most importantly, there were 2 kegs of Heineken and a keg of Guinness in the corner which I became well acquainted with throughout the course of the night. A delicious Thai green curry was served. The seconds tasted even better and the thirds even better again! At some stage throughout the night, Aily decided she had had enough of Alard's Busted hairstyle and boldly walked right up to him and chopped a piece off while Col was distracting him. She consequently wore it round her neck for good luck.

There was big drama as Alard was leaving when he couldn't find his camera. Relief followed when he found it but in fairness to him it was well hidden. I mean, how many people would think to look in their own pockets?! For some reason everybody kept mistaking Col for Byron (Poor Byron!!!) and earned Col the nickname for the night: Byron with the blazer! Some people also spent a little longer in the toilets than they perhaps would have liked to. A nice dip in the freezing cold Irish sea the next morning helped clear up any traces of a headache. Anyone else got any pics/anecdotes?

Now away with ye...

Christmas dinner with Lin and Lis

HOYYYYYYYY! How is everybody! Or is it how are everybody? No I think the first one. So anyway on Tuesday I had Christmas dinner with Luscious Lin and Lavish Lisa. Chicken and sprouts were the Lin's reponsibility, Lisa got mushy peas, mashed potato and stuffing while I was landed with roast potatoes, carrots and parsenips. I made a delicious mixed carrot and parsenip mash and enough roast spuds to feed an army. They were as crispy as er... crisps. So anyway while I was blasting the shite out of them in the oven I took out a plastic container in which to place them upon conclusion of their roasting. Not realising I hadn't turned off one of the gas hobs from when I was boiling the carrots/parsenips, I put the container down right on top of a naked flame. By the time the sickly smell of molten plastic reached my nostrils it was too late. The container was ruined and once I turned off the gas, the plastic instantly cooled and the hob became encrusted with a layer of clear plastic. Being in a rush I hastily scrawled a warning note for my family lest they cook with that hob later on and contract a mild case of plastic poisoning.

So then I left my gaff for college to finish off my SDD code review then it was on to work to work for two hours for Alban who couldn't make it in till 6. As soon as he arrived at 6, I hot footed it over to Lin's quicker than you could say soggy roast potatoes which funnily enough was the status off the roast potatoes I had previously made. Determined not to let that spoil our evening, we proceeded to eat the dinner along with a very dodgy lumpy gravy. Kudos to Mrs. Lisa on the stuffing! Afterwards, we were honoured with the company of Lenny (Yes! Lenny Von Scheel! The drummer from score!) A few cans of tuborg and some highly dodgy, potentially illegal, cheap Aldi wine later, we were headed for Voodoo Lounge to a charity gig Belinda's friends had organised as part of her masters. Walking through Trinity whilst consuming cans of Tuborg got us in trouble with campus security. Once out of Trinity, we decided to get a taxi on account of it being 1 degree. Due to the close proximity of Voodoo, the first taxi driver refuse to take us. The second driver entertained us all the way there with stories of how the first taxi driver's loss was his gain and how it's illegal to refuse customers who on the basis of their journey being too short.

Voodoo was pretty dead but we were there for a good case so in we went purchasing 5 raffle tickets each on the way. (I bought 10) Had a guinness or two and along came the raffle. Does anybody else think it's typical that I bought 10 raffle tickets and won sod all while the German won 2 prizes with his 5 measly tickets?! Bah. I wouldn't want a €25 Golden Discs voucher or a shower radio anyway! Once the raffle was finished the DJ kicked up and as we looked around we realised with bemusement that everyone was gone except for us! So we quietly slipped out and headed for somewhere guaranteed to be fun. Doyles. Turned out to be another UN convention in Doyles again with people from far and wide in attendance. Guinness was drunk and banter was had. At the end of the night, we were kicked out and to my horror I realised I coudn't remember for the life of me where I had left my bag. Not too concerned with the bag but more with the iPod inside it I began to freak out. Lenny, being the gentleman that he is, went back inside and somehow emerged 5 minutes later with the bag and a smug grin. Phew!

So on back to try and sneak into Goldsmith hall we went as I hadn't been signed in. But not before stopping on the way for a sweet chilli chicken baguette courtesy of burger king. We stopped outside Goldsmith and concocted a crazy story about me being an immigrant from Sligo and needing a bed for the night. Much time was spent synchronising stories and all for nothing! The security guard, the git, wasn't at his desk. Hoorah! So in we went and drank water while talking apparently quite loudly in Lenny's common area. One final, surreal part to the night was the head of a golliwog hanging from the curtain rail! Lenny, reading my disbelieving expression, explained that his flatmate Richard tends to develop violent tendancies when drunk, the most recent occurence being racially motivated and resulting in a decapitated wog. Richard for president!

















I put that last pic in because I think I look damn sexy

Now away with ye...

Queen Ali

Will fill more in here in due course but just had to pay immediate tribute to the drunken (gay) boy that is Ali. Good work dude! Keep it up!

So basically we were at a Queen tribute band in the buttery and Alard turned up smashed! "Take your knickers off!", he roared at a passing security guard. It was only half way through the support band's third song that Ali smelled a rat. "Grum!", he yelled. "I thought this was supposed to be a Queen tribute band!" Nice one dude. Finally, when the Queen band did start and "Freddie" walked out into the middle of the floor while singing a song, Ali jumped up to take a photo up close. But as he got there, "Freddie" walked back to the stage leaving Ali standing in the middle of the floor armed with a digital camera before scurrying back to his seat.

The band were actually deadly too. Much beer was spilt and many balances lost.

Now away with ye...

Law Soc Party in the Vaults

Not good. (Nicht einfach klasse)

Now away with ye... (Gehen Sie nach Hause)

Clare's gaff & turks head

After Froddo Baggins' induction into present arms, an affair that spanned six cans of quality Dutch lager, I met Lenny outside TBMC. We strolled up Dame street with Clare and Mark's apartment as our destination. I don't know how but I left TBMC carrying all my gear and by the time we arrived at Clare's (via a dodgy off license for more quality Dutch lager) Lenny was carrying all the gear. Still no better man for the job and I took advantage of him struggling to put down the gear by running to the toilet ahead of him. I emerged from the toilet one metal pole the richer and placed myself firmly on a comfy cushion with a cool can of Tuborg. The Late Late Show Toy Show was on and I found myself having a long in depth conversation with Clare's sister Judy about Jamiroquai. The room was set up perfect for a soiree. Everything was there - beer, pringles, right down to the big bowl of condoms on the table! Clare explained she got them free from work. Sure Clare! We believe you! Share the wealth, that's what I say. Disecting mine and Hazel's relationship with Goong was another highlight. Eventually Clare managed to round us up to head out. But where to? The Palace was suggested and as soon as Clare heard there would be 17 year olds there she reacted appropriately by screaming "Go on 17 year olds!" Thankfully some other people were more together and we ended up walking to the Mezz.

On the way down, Lombard Direct and Goong went into Number 1 shop for credit and God knows what else. While waiting outside for them, I heard a strange grating sound eminating from the little Thai girl beside me. "oighsdaoiagasdoig" she said. "ZXCXCXCVXOVOFOSF!!" What the fudge was going on?! She was trying to tell me something and I eventually made out that she was telling me that she was coughing and pissing at the same time! Well I had never seen or heard anything like that before and frankly the whole thing freaked me out a little. It was then I realised that thanks to aforementioned quality Dutch lager I may not remember this unique moment in my life the following day. One carefully placed call to Colleee sorted that out and I continued on my merry way. Upon arriving at The Mezz, we discovered to our dismay that the place was closed till next week. Shite. It being quite late, I remembered that the Viper Room stayed open late on weekends. The others weren't too happy about wandering round looking for the Viper room so I volunteered to be the scout party. After 5 minutes of intense searching I drew a blank and decided to return to the others. Upon my return, they had come across a lost light weight New York chick who was asleep on a bollard. Every attempt was made to locate her hostel and just as we found a taxi who knew where her hostel was, Colleee received the following text message:

"The number you requested for "JACOBS INN" is "018555660". Thank you for calling 11811."

It was then that an executive decision was made to go to Turks Head. My what a treat lay in store for us there! As many free postcards as we could eat! (Sample postcard on right) The logical thing, of course, was to locate a pen and write drunken postcards to friends who couldn't attend the evening - and some who were there! We soon realised that our efforts were futile as we had no stamps until... Graham opens his wallet and what falls out? 5 x 48c stamps!!! What are the odds? So out came the tongue, on go the stamps and into the back pocket for postage later. Then it was up for some fairly dodgy drunken dancing. It being the time of year that it is, the music finished with a couple of classic Christmas songs. Forced out onto the cold hard streets of Temple Bar by the bouncers, we proceeded to the only logical destination - Iskanders! After getting outside of a juicy lamb kebab, I felt the need to re-christen Colleee as Concrete Colleee. This is a tribute to the Specials song Concrete Jungle. My next memory is of me and the newly named Concrete Colleee singing the lyrics to concrete jungle at the top of our voices - "You're going home in a fucking amblance. You're gonna get your fucking heads kicked in!" The only problem is Collee swears he wasn't there when I did that which begs the question - who was the bloke I had my arm around and singing with??!! :-/

Apparently Concrete Colleee's journey home was not without its entertainment. The ambulance on the left is the aforementioned one from the Specials song that I was seemingly destined to go home in. His walk over to the northside saw a girl outside Spirit snorting coke from an ATM card! And I'm not talking about the high caffeine, high sugar carbonated drink kids. It was about now that I left the others for my faithful nightlink stop where I waited listening to Jamiroquai. BANG! Something had crashed into me and I didn't know what it was! Looking down I saw a man on the ground who had obviously run straight into me. He was scrabbling to get up quick but the more he scrabbled the more he slipped and fell down again. He finally managed to get up and resume running when BANG! the drunken fool crashes straight into a bus stop! This was met by howls of derisive laugher from innocent bystanders. The poor sod tried to get up but was met with the same problem of the scrabbling/slipping trade off as before. As he finally managed to get up and ran round the corner out of my life forever (hopefully) I felt a strange sense of pity for him. Just then my nightlink turned up and I boarded the vomit comet bound for home. Once home, I turned on my laptop to keep a date I had made earlier in the evening with Colleee to chat to him on MSN. In Col's true drunken thievery that we all love him for, he managed to swipe several thousand postcards from the pub. Not sure what he's gonna do with them all mind. Perhaps he could go about proving my much debated postcard theory. Not getting much response out of Col, I then attempted to chat up a hot 31 year old chick on a dating site. Suffice to say I haven't heard from her yet.

A great night out that would not be complete without mentioning a certain explicit text message intended for Ali but sent to Concrete Colleee. The content of this message will remain locked inside my brain and can only be unlocked using a special key (Any form of alcohol will do really...)

Now away with ye...

The Brendan Courtney Show & XXI with Ze Germans

Monday 28th November 2005, 4.50pm, sitting in a Management Accounting tutorial in Áras an Phiarsaig. The anticipation of a pint in McDaid's with Fi, Lenny and his mates is giving me the jitters. No sooner had our lecturer uttered his closing remarks about Product Specific Activity Based Costing than I was out the door and tearing up Grafton St in the general direction of McDaid's. Lenny, GayOrg and Stefan were clearly already in high spirits no doubt due to the early commencement of the drinking session. After one swift pint, myself, Col and Fi left for Howl at the Moon where the Brendan Courtney Show was being filmed, via McDonald's for a quick fix of the old reliable eurosaver menu. We met Emsy in the queue outside eating a bag of popcorn. Unfortunately the chemical properties of the popcorn caused her tongue piercing to fall out on not one but two occasions! Lucky good ol' Grum was there to screw it back in.

On our way in we were each given a free drinks voucher. After arguing with the woman giving them out it looked for a brief second like I might get a second voucher! Alas in the end it was not to be however since Emsy wasn't drinking I was able to buy hers for the price of an orange juice. We were sitting in the bar area with our drinks waiting for the show to begin filming and just as I ordered my second we were all told to finish up our drinks and head upstairs to where it was being filmed. Bloody typical. Knocked back the drink and headed upstairs. The room was very small and only stools to sit on so not the most comfortable of situations however definitely acceptable. The warm up guy (Brendan's brother?!) was great however my larynx suffered severely from all the cheering practice. Finally Brendan appeared and the show got underway. It was hard work laughing hard at the jokes when sometimes they were only mildly amusing or not funny at all. The guests were a gardener, a chef and a TV presenter. Good craic but was well in need of a drink by the end which came only after multiple takes of Brendan's entrance.

Leaving Howl at the Moon we headed for Doyles to meet up with the Germans who were just leaving Abracadabra! No secret was made of the fact that they had been eating garlic fries. After a few in Doyles we migrated over to XXI, formerly Coyote Lounge. A fiver in and €3 drinks all night. It was here that things got messy. We took control of a booth consisting of soft couches and a small yet remarkably sturdy table in the middle for drinks. (See photos below) Fi somehow discovered the joys of spinning on one's head and was eager for everyone else to join in. This had inevitable consequences and the resulting carnage can be seen below. Another mission of Fi's was to run her fingers through the back of Leopold's soft silky hair and employed various somewhat unorthodox methods of doing so producing hilarious results.

Kicked out at closing time, myself and Fi ended up in Charlie's 3 for some delicious Chinese cuisine. Leaving Charlie's we swiftly obtained a taxi and steered in the direction of 30 priory grove. As always, a picture paints a thousand words so I'll leave it to the pics below to fill in the gaps.






















































































Now away with ye...

The Exorcism of Emily Rose

Went to the match (Ireland V Romania) with Emsy hammer and Col. A lift in from Fleur(?!) and a pair of breakfast baps from Spar before meeting Emsy and heading down to the stadium. It being Emsy's first visit to Lansdowne Rd for a sporting event (Although some would consider Robbie Williams a sporting event!) she was on top form bangin out some classic one-liners. The only one I can remember was in reference to Kieran Campbell when he tackled a rather large Romanian forward: "Well done, little man!" Perhaps Col could enlighten us with a few more? Emsy also reckons that Ronan OGara must never get constipation from constantly squatting the way he does. One can only wonder what Emsy smokes for breakfast.

Thanks to another lift from the lovely Fleur(?!) myself and Col arrived at Emsy hammer's around 9pm heavily armed with Bavaria and WKD blue. After some friendly banter with her and Clare over some 6month old Indian takeaway and a bowl of popcorn we retired to the front room to watch the exorcism of yer one Emily Rose. Nothing much else happened between then and goin home save some more excellent lines from Emsy and Clare, none of which I can remember! Col - help me out here again! Clare did, however, make out with the video player. Not a particularly exciting entry for the blog but included for completion and clarity.

Now away with ye...

Rob's 21st

It is amazing how much work you can actually get done when you put your mind to it - and when you have a bottle of red wine at your disposal! This held true for me last night as I found myself sitting in the computer rooms of the TCD Statistics Department working on my final year project accompanied by a glass (Sorry - paper cup) of Redser's dodgy Californian wine. I have never worked so efficiently before in my life and as such am eager to try this method again soon. Anyway as the deadline for the 7.30 bus to Ballyboden drew alarmingly close, myself, Si and Redser decided it was finally time to leave and meet Niall and Pamela for the treacherous journey into the sticks. This, of course, had nothing at all to do with the recent calls from Pamela at two minute intervals wondering where the hell we were and when we were going to head to the bus stop. No journey to the bus stop would be complete without a stop off at Centra for supplies of Bushmills whiskey, Bavaria and Airwaves. Fully stocked, we proceeded to meet the others. Dublin Bus being Dublin Bus, the 49 was inevitabely late. Despite much worrying on Pamela's behalf and much insistance from Redser to head to O'Neill's for a quick one, we managed to all board the bus. The journey was somewhat uneventful save Blathnaids new friendship with a drunk old Northern Irish bloke at the back of the bus.

We were the first to arrive at the venue - St. Enda's GAA club in Ballyboden. The place filled up soon enough and eventually the food appeared much to the relief of a starving MSISS class. Chicken, chips and salad and a shit load of buttered bread - brown and white! This was followed by a medley of 70s tunes by Rob's two Uncles on keyboards and drums respectively. It was then that I was invited on stage by Rob's younger brother to play bass on a few numbers. DISASTER! I was managing alright for the first couple till we started to play Sunshine of your Love. Thinking I was sorted because I knew the song I launched into it with great enthusiasm. It was only towards the end of the song that I heard someone calling my name. I turned around - it was Rob's keyboard playing Uncle. What was he saying? I couldn't make it out above the din! Why was he saying "It's Indie! It's Indie!"?? *click* He's saying "It's in D, It's in D!" I looked down at my bass and realised with horror that I had been playing the song in E all this time and the din I was hearing was a result of my error. TOTAL 'MARE! I finished out the song in a pathetic attempt to switch to E and then quietly left the stage never to return again. Apologies to Rob's brothers who are both very talented musicians for polluting their performance with my crass mistake.

A few drinks later I had forgotten the disaster and was back on top form again. Happy Birthday, 21 kisses and birthday cake inevitabely ensued followed by much dancing. Rob, revelling in the merriment, was on flying form and managed to pull almost everybody up for a good aul dance climaxing with everybody joined in a big ring for the only song to finish a night off with - I'm gonna be (500 miles) by The Proclaimers! We left shortly after that to head to town but not before pointing out that the baby photos of Rob at the door bore a striking resemblance to a certain Departmental lecturer. All fired up for going into town, I stopped outside to give a randomer directions which was strange since I had no idea where I was myself! Turning around, EVERYONE else had left in a car! Bastads. Fine then. Didn't want to go to town with them anyway. Spotted a lone figure across the road trying to hail a taxi and upon further inspection it turned out to be Will. Good old Will.

We got a taxi together and ended up at the bottom of Cornelscourt hill. With the taxi already at 20 big ones, I decided to get out there and walk the rest. It was then I realised my proximity to Col's gaff and felt obliged to inform him of this via Short Message Sending courtesy of o2. Passing Dunnes and resisting the temptation to go in and buy roast turkey and a dvd, I arrived home around 2am. With an extra ticket to the Ireland V Romania match resting in my breast pocket, I stumbled into my parents' room and mumbled something to my Dad about did he want to come to the match. He didn't. Got into bed but not before I had a quick drunken chat with Col and Frances on MSN. Well I had a good two-way chat with Frances however the chat with Col was positively one-way and I was reminded as such on more than one occasion the following day. Getting into bed, I watched a third of the Brendan Courtney show from last Wednesday night before slipping into a deep, alcohol induced sleep.

Now away with ye...

Col's account of UCD row row row your boat ball

Complete with original typos!

emsy was half and hour late up to the daniel day luas stop so i was waiting up there in my tux and getting the strangest looks from all the 15 year old who were coming back from town .. im pretty sure i was in there. then got to some house in raneligh and was good craic, cept we were so late that we didnt stay there long ! but had good bit of white wine. thren on to the ball ... lotsa in jokes and what not, but was still ok, was sat at a table with 7 girls ! also, 6 of them were white wine drinkers, so the obvious choice was red ! prob not the best reason now that i ithkn about it...

was food then, lots more drink and a small bit of dancing got thrown out of there bout 12.30/1ish. onto the ivy ! again, full of 12 year olds ! but was still good craic soooo funy walking in somewhere like that dressed in a tux ... people just dont know what to say or do to you. cept some random people were fixing my bow tie for me ! girls of course ! like it's the rowing club and rowing involes a cox .... so the obvious choice was the hilton. cox, paris ! get it !!! anyway ..... by the time we got out of there nad the 2 euro drnks .... me and emsy were just in a state ! Beyond 51st state.

oh was just unreal ! emsy made up stop and pet one of the horses that they have on grafton street ! we talked to wa random welsh guy and i tried to put on a welsh acccent. emsy stop in a newsagent to buy socks ! all these people were talking ot us on grafton street, and i asking were we ata debs and i was liek im 22 !! im not at no debs ! eventually got to nitelink area and then of course got a taxi. i fell asleep in taxi ! woke up next morning ... on way to toilet, parents asked was i ok, i was like yes.... well, no ! and then had a quick chat with god on the big white telephone ... first time in 3 year years

thats about it really ... was dying all day yesterday, work was not even funny ... but was sooo worth it

Now away with ye...

A quantity of quality quotes

Although these quotes pertain to a night in Fi's gaff dated Saturday 22/10/05, they are too good to not post up. Plus I only just found them in my jacket pocket a few minutes ago.

"Fi dropped her drugs! And drugs are baaaaad!" - Col

"That's a big pile o' gee!" - Fi

"Smells like a hot water bottle in here!" - Maria

"LET'S DRINK!" - Maria

"Oh my God my ears ache from the quietness!" - Fi

"If you drink all of that I'll do something good to you." - Grum (directed at Rachel)

"You always like a gilf!" - Fi

"That stuff is devil in a bottle." - Col

"It's not a fucking charity." - Grum (re fat people)

"It's gonna be in a mug. Is that a problem?" - Fi

Fi correcting Rachel during Queen's Don't stop me now:
Rach: "Dynamite..."
Fi: "No!! Fahrenheit!!"

"I don't wanna blah blah blah!" - Fi

"Grum is gonna have a gay son." - Col's prediction for the future

"hskkkfxfkshfx" - Ice dispenser

"Dancin'..." - Rachel

"More ice pleesh" - Rachel

"You sound like you're living in the 80's, Graham." - Fi

"Is it volume-tastic?" - Fi

"i'm not annonymous. I'm COLLEEEEE!" - Col upon seeing this

I also would like to acknowledge the irritative nature of this post to anyone who wasn't there and I realise that all quotes contained herein are painfully 'in-jokes'.

Now away with ye...

Ringfire, Tori Spelling and a girl from Ballinteer

Friday 18th November, 7:00pm and myself and Ali have our asses firmly rooted to a worryingly rickety picnic table outside The Pav. Tis interesting, we muse, that it is so early in the night yet it seems so late. So two Bavarias later we get a call from Lin and Lisa telling us they are inside and far being it from us to form an argument for staying out in the cold November air we wander in. Another couple of Bavarias each and we find ourselves on our way over to see the German in Goldsmith Hall but not before a stop off in Centra for more of the precious Bavaria.

Arriving at Lenny's, it turns out that there is some sort of United Nations drinking session underway with many Germans, a few Dutch and a girl from Ballinteer. The game: Ring of fire aka Circle of death, the object: Get quite drunk, say lots of silly things that aren't actually funny and try not get landed with having to drink the dirty pint. The dirty pint in this case started off with a splash of milk and a dash of vodka to get things going even before any kings were drawn.










The game proceeds with ridiculous rules being made including no pointing and the mandatory use of everybody's surnames. One poor bugger even got landed with a nice pair of dirty pints! A heated debate broke out at one point as to whether somebody had broken the ring or not. It still remains unresolved. Make up your own mind (See photo on left) Curiously, a graphical she-man deck of cards kept appearing throughout the night although nobody seemed brave enough to claim ownership. I have my suspicions - say no more Nickleback. As soon as midnight was upon us, the German had us shipped out of his flat faster than you could say lieblingsfreizeitbeschaeftigung and a lengthy, heated debate ensued, the topic of which was 'Our next port of call'. The aforementioned port of call eventually turned out to be........

..........The Palace. Fine by me although Doyles was infinitely closer. Taxi up was only 2 big ones each and entry was free so nothing to complain about really. Good times had in the palace. Bit of an Andrew's reunion with Robbie G, Laura L and Byron turning up. Highlights included talking to a Dutch Kirsten Dunst, meeting Tori Spelling and enthusing excessively to the girl from Ballinteer about the wonder that is Ska music. Saturday 19th November, 4:00am and myself and Ali have our asses firmly rooted to a worryingly rickety 84N. Vague memories coming back just now of excessive thanking of the driver for getting us home in under 19 minutes. Impressive. After a brief discussion with Ali regarding good kisses and a wrestling match with Rog to get a sleeping bag off him our sleepy heads were lain to rest in anticipation of Part II.


Part II involved taking a bus into town to meet the German & co at Goldsmith. Again, a severe lack of Irish with several Germans, a few Dutch, a Spaniard and a girl from Ballinteer. Ended up in Buskers for a disappointing match against the Aussies in which Ireland lost 14-27. Back to Lennys for some delicious pasta Carbonara and the Wales-South Africa match where the referee, having lost his whistle, was forced to resort to capturing a defenceless bird to poke with a stick in order to simulate the shrill sound of a whistle. Off we are again on the 6 mile hike that is the journey to Frazers of O Connell st. This time it's the Real Madrid - Barcelona match. Alas here the excitement of the last 24 hours caught up with me and that combined with the high temperature and lack of oxygen in Frazers forced my early departure on the 20:10 145 bus. A night cruelly cut short yet one to be remembered. Only one question remains - Who's the girl??!! -->

Now away with ye...