Wednesday, August 25, 2010

That's not actually rubbish, love ... ?

Has anyone else seen this ... ?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYdUZdan5i8&feature=popular

I am totally baffled. The calm and casual nature by which she simply places the LIVING CAT in the bin as though it were a crisp wrapper and then strolls along her merry way as though this type of behaviour were perfectly normal ... like, wtf?!

Apparently she needs police protection now as a gang of papparazzi have set up camp outside her house, and she's received death threats. Alright, death threats might be taking it a bit far but like ... I just do not understand what on earth was going through this woman's head that she would stop to pet a nice kitty and then just randomly throw it in a bin?!

Weirdo. I would like to throw her in a bin. Although, the fact that this has been on the news several times in two days and has even made the front page of some tabloids newspapers amuses me greatly.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Me again...

Ooh two posts in one day! Except this is an uber quickie; a follow up on the one before the last ...

Check this out, my friends...

http://www.herald.ie/entertainment/tv-radio/meet-the-stars-of-dublins-answer-to-hit-mtv-show-the-hills-2300245.html?start=2

Sooo ... are we still thinking it looks craptastic?!

Got my keys, got my money, got my ... ah no, I forgot to put a skirt on again!

This is a quickie, for two reasons:

Number One: I got up at half six yesterday morning, and didn't go to bed again until after eleven, having worked for most of those seventeen hours, and then got up again at half six this morning. Therefore, I'm bleedin wrecked, lads.

Number Two: I am still in disbelief regarding the subject matter of this post.

So, I was working out in the Wright Venue in Swords last night. They were having - as I imagine most club were - a Leaving Cert Results party. So there I was, merrily ticking names off the guest list and taking photos and generally wishing I was at home with a cuppa, when this one girl caught my eye for the absolute worst reason.

This girl looks like a perfectly normal girl ... she had short blonde hair, and was wearing a lovely top, with a jacket over it (wearing a jacket is just ironic ... you'll see why ...), and black heels with black knee high socks. Her bag was sparkly. She was wearing lots of bangles.


And underwear.

Underwear.

Ahh, you mean teeny hotpants, don't you Karin?

Nope. Actual knickers, like.

All I could think was, 'Love ... you forgot your skirt??"

I mean, everyone was staring at her. The door staff were pointing, the girls taking names were openly laughing ... I was certain they'd refuse her. Maybe gently remind her that she forgot her clothes, and perhaps she should go home and put a skirt on?

But no. In she whizzed, with everyone staring at her arse hanging out of her knickers! And like, they weren't even plain black knickers, like bikini bottoms or something, but actual freakin underwear, with a pattern on them. I was just in shock. And her boyfriend strolled in after her looking like she was Kate Moss or something! If I was a guy, I would just be utterly mortified if my girlfriend showed up on a night out without any pants on. And why even bother wearing a jacket? To cover up? Or in case you get cold?

I don't think I even need to say it and I know I sound like a fifty year auld biddy, but how could her parents let her out of the house like that?!

"Mam, how do I look?"
"Oh, lovely pet, just lovely! Although ... you seem to have forgotten your trousers?"

Bejaysus. I'm going to bed.

Monday, August 16, 2010

The Hills are alive ...


As if Irish television doesn’t have enough to cry about, I recently heard something that made my heart stop quicker than Lindsey Lohan’s does when she hears the words ‘drink’ and ‘driving’ used together in the same sentence.

Apparently ... there is to be an Irish version of ‘The Hills’.

OH. DEAR. LORD.

So far, there’s very little information going on this, and I did a good bit of trawling through Google to discover any little tidbits, but it has been confirmed and is seemingly in the process of filming. It will be called ‘Fade Street’, which I anticipate will provide all manner of puns; “Fading stars of bad reality show”, “Fading into the background”, “Crappy Irish reality shite fades away forever”, and so on and so forth.

I got this from the Herald ... “Reality TV cameras are rumoured to have descended on private members club Residence, where they were filming top secret scenes for an Irish version of The Hills. The party was being captured by cameras for reality show Fade Street, which will star a number of little known socialites as well as model Vogue Williams.”

As far as I know, the set up is virtually the same – rich kids playing and trying to convince us they do work. So far there’s some rich Irish guy’s son, a couple of wannabe models trying to make it, and a girl who bagged an internship at Stellar magazine.

Sound familiar??

The one slight odd girl out is Danielle, who is a trainee tattoo artist. Kinda cool. Of course, she’s still a model. Duhh.

If I’m totally honest now ... I’m rather looking forward to this. Not because I think it will be in any way good – god no – but because I do love a good car crash show. I know LC and co are loved and adored over there, but somehow I just can’t see it quite working out the same over here ...

How and ever, this comes from the maker of 'Dan and Becs', and 'Sarah and Steve', which I find hilarious, so I’m going to give it a chance. Maybe its ripping the piss outta The Hills?? Or maybe it will surprise everyone and actually involve half decent people going to half decent places rather than falling in and out of Krystle every night of the week?

Who knows? Either way, I am intrigued ...




Thursday, August 12, 2010

One man and his granddaughter ... I mean, daughter ...


Is anyone else mildly disturbed by the fact that Rod Stewart is having another baby? The man is 66. This means he will be in his mid-seventies when his kid is only ten. I don’t think my granddad was even that age when I was ten? I know there’s always debates over whether there’s such a thing as being ‘too old’ to be a parent, and sure, as long as you can provide a child with a loving home then you should be fit to care for him or her, but you could also say that being so old you’re unable to kick a football around with your ten year old son just isn’t fair on the child. I don’t know ... there’s a lot of grey areas on this one, but I personally think sixty six is too old.

Even the fifties might be pushing it a bit ... Kelsey Grammar, AKA Fraiser, has also knocked up his girlfriend, at the ripe old age of fifty five. I think possibly the *shudder*-iest (yes its a word...) thing about this one though is that his girlf is only twenty nine ... and her mother is three years younger that Kelsey Grammar.

“Mummy ... why is daddy older than grandma?”

In fact, Rod Stewart’s daughter Kimberly is thirty one ... while his pregnant wife is thirty nine. She could have easily had a baby a few years ago – let’s say she had a three year old daughter. Her new auntie would be three years younger than her!

Alright alright, I know “Love conquers all” blah blah blah, but I just find all these age differences weird. My grandparents are old, and my aunties and uncles are all around about the same age as my parents. As they should be.

OK, so that might be a little close minded ... I prefer ‘traditional’ ... ;-)

Monday, August 9, 2010

"And this was inspired by a bin liner and a vampire ..."


Day one of the new job completed, and it wasn’t half bad! I mostly whizz around in awesome little pink car handing out free stuff for a radio station ... you can probably guess which one. Getting up at six is definitely going to take some getting used to; once it starts getting dark I would say it’s extremely hard. And as much as you might think driving around all day is graaand, it honestly does take it out of you; it’s far more concentration than I’m used to!

Anyway, I’m dreadfully tired, so here is a lazy post full of dreadful “wtbf were you thinking??” kind of outfits. For my amusement. See, famous people are shite sometimes too.

We'll start with Britney Spears. I hope this was an 'Undead Schoolgirl' Halloween outfit.


Agyness Dean decided it would be fun to glue bits of bathroom carpet to a plastic bag.


Ciara (fucking pronounced 'KEAR-AH', not 'see-air-ah') has made some powerful enemies ... the family of all those swans she murdered. Swans can break your arm, you know.


Heather Mills ... how, I mean just how did she think this looked lovely??

Ke$ha borrows Joey's Japanese 'Ichibon'.


Emma Roberts squeezes her boobs into this thing and channels the oh-so-popular horribly deathly pale vampire look.


Noooo ... no. No, no, no.


It looks like she's going for the 'super hero' vibe ... umm ... Big Green ... Winged, Thing...?? To the rescue!


I just ... I just can't. No words.


Leona Lewis ... I don't know what to ... my head hurts



I love laughing at other people's misfortune :-)

Friday, August 6, 2010

Welcome home ... wait! I don't want to be here, there's some strange water falling from the sky! Rain...? What's that??


I have returned, much lighter in purse and definitely heavier in weight (late night pizza and Reece’s Cups will do that to you). In my short but sweet week, I crammed quite an impressive amount in; Times Square, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, New York Library, Rockefeller Centre, Grand Central, Washington Square Park, Bryant Park, Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Modern Museum of Art, Little Italy, SoHo, Greenwich, Central Park, the Bronx Zoo, Columbia, NYU ... ah jaysus, the list goes on. Not to mention the shopping. And drinking ... a litre and a half of Smirnoff for twenty dollars??? Sure t’would just be plain rude not to.


The only part of the States I’ve ever been to is Florida, which I knew long before I’d even got on the plane to New York would be very, VERY different. So, here are ...

Things I learned while in New York.

The subway is confusing. Apart from there being a million different lines, several of which are extremely similar in colour, some of them only stop at certain stops, or change route at the weekend, or have two different last stops. And no matter where you’re going, I found that there was more chance of you bumping into Brad Pitt strolling down Fifth Ave than of you only needing to get one line. Any journey always required a transfer. And the stupid ticket machines only give a maximum of six euro in change! Be warned! To top it off, its SWELTERINGLY hot down at those stations.

I have a very dangerous addiction ... to peanut M&Ms. There is a three storey M&Ms store in Times Square (I know, it thought it was too ridiculous to be true when I was first told about it) that sells all manner of merchandise possible; from t-shirts to mugs to giant stuffed M&M teddies, there was even M&M jewellery! You name, they sold it, with an M&M guy on the front. But best of all ... there was a giant M&M pick n mix. As in, peanut M&Ms and normal ones, and then pretzel, dark chocolate, almond, coconut, and my personal all time favourite ... peanut butter M&Ms! Let me repeat that, for maximum impact ... peanut butter M&Ms! So naturally I went about as crazy as ... well, a kid in a candy store, and spent something ridiculous like ten dollars on a bag full of all kinds of M&Ms. I had all sorts of wonderful intentions of bringing this lovely bag of chocolatey goodness home with me to share with my beloved friends and family.

Haha.

 
There literally is a Starbucks on every corner. And they suck. I’d always thought the amount of Starbucks’ people said were over there was a slight exaggeration but nope, it’s fairly spot on. And people order the most ridiculous combinations of ‘coffee’ (vanilla flavoured caramel mocha with whipped cream and syrup) and then put about five (I am not joking) packets of sugar in it. Ok ok, I know you get that here too, but it seemed about ten times worse over there. Cute little one off coffee shops are ten times better, and most will have free magazines for you to read! Lovely. Could you imagine that here? Some little pikey in a tracksuit would leg it in off the street and rob them on you. Then you’d spot him trying to sell the round the corner.



Don’t forget about tax. You might not realise, but there is added tax on absolutely everything; however, the States often don’t include it in the advertised price, so you think you’re getting a fab bargain ... until you hit the till. A lot of places do include it now (probably because it’s so DAMN ANNOYING when you don’t), but you can still get stung out.

Similarly, don’t forget to tip. Oh jeez, they really are crazy for that. You even have to tip when you order a drink at a bar! How ridiculous is that?! You tip someone when their service has been lovely and pleasant, not when it took them all of two seconds to pour you a drink. Ah feck off outta that. You have to do it though, otherwise they'll remember you and serve you last for the rest of the night. I’m really, really against tipping, so it was a bit of a constant nag for me to always hand over extra money. You’re already getting paid ... why do I need to give you more?! And sure, working in shops is just as hard – you have to be polite and friendly and always greet every customer as they come in, and then run up a million flights of stairs to get a size for someone, order stuff in for them from other stores, clean up their mess in the changing rooms, fold stuff, hang stuff, deal with absolute wankers who insist that stuff should be cheaper or who throw a hissy when you don’t have their size ... wait, where was I going with this tangent?! Oh yeah! I should get tipped too, no fair!!!

Abercrombie frightens me. Love the stuff, can’t get enough (ha, see what I did there...) but the actual shop itself on Fifth Avenue is jee-ammers – so much so, that they actually have a queue to get in! Then there’s topless male sales assistants roaming about the place, and the hordes of giggly fourteen year olds that follow them everywhere, and the female sales girls that make you want to run away crying for wearing such scruffy jeans. It didn’t help that I was a sweaty bejaysus-ing mess. And I don’t understand why it’s so damn dark in there! You’d actually get lost if you were in any way blind. Not to worry though, the shiny abs of the naked dudes will guide you to the door.



Apart from a MAJOR slight flight mix up, and then a ridiculous delay during which we were told our plane was broken (oh great, now I cant wait to get on the next one ...), I had a fabulous time, and shall most definitely be returning.
I am off now to have a lovely weekend full of laziness and drunkeness, because I start a new job on Monday which will require me to be awake at six am.

Yes you heard me. And no, I didn't know six had an A.M either. Should be interesting ...

PS: I met some people who had a friend who's surname was ... wait for it ...

Khunt-minje.


A-maaaazing.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

I'm baaaack...

After a great deal of flight confusion and very unwelcome late night delays (Delta's excuse: "Ehh basically, your plane is broken, so we're trying to find you another plane that's not quite so broken ... thanks for your patience), I have finally returned to Irish soil, severely jetlagged and probably quite smelly.

New York was FANTASTIC beyond words, but I am now off to take a bath and sleep for about sixteen hours so I'm nice and refreshed to get up and start my AWESOME NEW JOB tomorrow (which I should be starting right now - cheers, Delta).

A better and slightly more fulfilling post can be found tomorrow. I will also catch up one a week's worth of everyone's blog posts!

Good night!

*passes out*