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...