Disjointed Ramblings With No Discernible Thread (a.k.a. "Normal")

I just can't seem to get around to updating this site on a regular basis. I start out with good intentions and positive thoughts about how I'm going to post at least once a week or maybe even twice a week! Holy shit! And then I get all mixed up in my dumb life and I neglect the site. It's not like I forget or anything. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I become keenly aware that it has been X number of days since I last updated and I'm disappointing literally 10's of people (ok, maybe just 10). Before I know it, I've created this mad pressure in my own head about what the next post should be and how it should be a hugely funny/interesting story about how I did whatever with whomever (awww, yeah. Homey whips out the "whom". boo-ya).

But the days pile up and I still can't think of anything even remotely interesting to write about so I....don't. I simply don't write anything about anything. I even went so far during one of my "whooo-hoo-look-at-me-I'm-gonna-be-all-super-creative-and-I-have-all-these-ideas-and-they-come-out-of-my-head-so-fast-that-I-can't-write-them-down-quickly-enough-and-I-need-to-have-some-sort-of-way-to-get-these-great-ideas-onto-the-internet-so-that-people-can-ignore-them" that I went and bought myself a micro-recorder thing. No, seriously. The idea was that I could simply just record the thoughts that are too precious, fragile and fleeting to try to get onto paper or even a computer text file (or, gasp! a fucking blog post) because of course I'd ALWAYS have this recorder thing with me at all times right? I mean, look how small it is! It's totally not inconvenient or unrealistic at all! So I bought it. I've used it as I had intended exactly zero times. I'm a moron. I did record my cat snoring once though. So that's a win right?

Speaking of cats, Molly has a problem. A pretty big problem actually. She has a tumor in her little head. In her right eye specifically. I may have mentioned (I can't remember and god knows I don't actually read this) that her eye changed color last year and although the doctor said, "Meh, that happens, no worries", we were worried all the same thank you very much. Her behavior was different (more aggressive than usual) and The Wiff took her back to the vet to get some scans and shit done. Turns out the eye is cancerous. Lovely. So tomorrow (Feb 1st) she goes in to surgery to have it removed. I'm going to have a pirate kitty. Poor little girl. I'm actually really worried about it but since I'm also completely shut down emotionally and don't know how to express how I truly feel, I shall minimize it and move on. Hold on a sec while I turn this stress and angst into a little hard ball that will eventually eat its way out of my chest....there we go.

So, winter. Can we talk about winter for a paragraph or two? The snow has been such a fucking asshole this year. I know that in '94-'95 and '96 here in Boston there was more snow than blah blah blah I don't fucking care. Back then I didn't have a car and I lived in an apartment where it was someone else's job to shovel this shit. Now it is my responsibility (unless I'm in Miami, right Amy? Wheeeeee!). I am old and decrepit and quite honestly I have run out of places to put the stuff. The snow piles on my sad little postage stamp of a lawn are taller than I am. The snow bank at the end of my driveway is the size of one of those huge SUV's. And this week we're supposed to get even more snow. Great. I give up. Just keep snowing on me. Make my roof collapse. I don't care anymore. I can't fight you Mother Nature, you win automatically. I can't even flip the board (which is a great tactic usually when losing a game).



Last week it snowed too but I didn't care because I was in Miami (ok, technically I was in Coral Gables but fuck you, that's close enough). I never "got" Florida but I moved a little closer to being able to understand it. It was lovely I must admit. The weather was in the mid-70's with moderate humidity. Not oppressive but just enough to let you know that yea, the air might be a little "thick" fat boy. I won't bore you with details about the conference because quite frankly you will not care. I'm in this industry and I had a hard time caring about all of the lectures and presentations. There was one presenter who we were told who's journey to Miami from South Africa had taken 40 hours. Well I can tell you right now that that motherfucker should have stayed home. Holy shit. I've never experienced something that mind-numbingly dull in my life. And this from a guy who read The Simarillian on purpose.

First of all the guy was super nervous, so right off the bat he got my sympathy vote. I feel you mister. This is gonna suck for you. Don't worry about it. Head down and press on through ok? I'm here for ya. Then he started speaking in that weird sort-of-German-but-wait-isn't-that-more-of-an-Australian-vibe accent of his. His stutter was so profound that it was painful. I get it mister. Stutters suck. No worries though, we're not going anywhere. Move through it. Keep yer chin up! He then proceeded to go through each of his slides bullet point by fucking bullet point in such soul-crushing detail that I slowly moved from sympathy, to boredom, to indifference, to finally bare knuckled hatred in the span of 50+ minutes. At the end I didn't want to be glad he was done because I thought I might have been hallucinating and he'd be going back up to go through the thing all over again. I might have died if that happened. I certainly lost all interest in the next speaker I can tell you that much.

The take home messages are that I should be more open to going somewhere warm during the winter months (something I've literally never done before) and that air travel still sucks ass. American Airlines is equivalent to taking a city bus for 3 hours (except a city bus doesn't have the potential to fall out of the sky). I spent the bulk of the flight home wishing foul, awful things on the family seated behind me and their 4 screaming children. If any of the wishes have come true then I'm sure I would have seen something on the news by now. I also wanted to stab the guy seated next to me several times. Why? Well I had the window seat and he was jammed in the middle seat between me and one of my co-workers. He clearly wanted to have a window seat because he kept leaning forward and into my space to look out the window. Dude, look, we're on the right side of a plane that's going up the east coast of the United States. Guess what's out that window? If you said "a shit-ton of water and not much else" then you are correct. Sit the fuck back and I'll let you know when we pass over some land that you couldn't identify if you absolutely had to, ok? He was also one of these guys who when the plane finally came to a stop he bolted out of his seat so he can get into the aisle as quickly as possible. Yea, um...you know that we're basically in the back of the plane here right? It's gonna take a while skippy. Ah people, how I loathe them.

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like...

The morning of Sunday, January 10th we checked out of The Shittiest Hotel Ever and headed across Dublin to retrieve our rental car. It was snowing (of course) and the hotel staff didn't even think that any taxis would be running in the city. Oh come on. Luckily there was at least one brave soul who dared drive in this weather and he took us to the car rental place. Now bear in mind that we had paid for everything for this trip up front (which is why we stayed at The Shittiest Hotel Ever and didn't just leave to find a better place...we would have lost that cash if we had) and one of the things we had purchased from our travel agent was insurance. We had the whole kit and caboodle from life, accidental this and that, trip insurance (in case the flight had been canceled or something) and car rental insurance. When we presented the little brochure thing to the woman behind the counter she pointed out that the car rental insurance does not list Ireland so we would have to purchase additional insurance. Oh, fuck you Dublin. Fuck you long and hard.

So 380 euro later we get our car. Originally we had reserved a Ford Focus but "because of the misunderstanding" they offered to bump us up to a bigger car. Oh sweet! Hey Dublin, sorry about what I just said in that last paragraph...maybe we just got off on the wrong foot y'know? Let's give this another try ok? Like a fresh start. Whattaya say? The car that they upgraded us to? A Prius. Oh, fuck you Dublin. We jump into the car and head off. Luckily, being that it was Sunday morning and presumably the entire city was sleeping off a real banger of a hangover, we had the roads to ourselves. This was a really good thing as they had still not plowed (did I mention that they don't plow? or shovel? oh I had? ok). I figured (wrongly it turned out) that once we got out of the city limits and onto the motorway that the surface would be in much better shape. Not really. The travel lanes on the dual carriageway were slushy and somewhat clear but the passing lanes and all the on and off ramps were completely snow and/or ice covered and dangerous.

We drove for what seemed like hours and hours but it must have been about 3 total or so and we finally made into Cork. The snow was still coming down and mixing with sleet as we pulled into the city and it gave it a real ominous tone. Cork is a pretty industrial city and with the grey sky and grey stone walls it wasn't giving off a "hey, come on and hang out here" vibe. I'm not saying Cork isn't a great place, I honestly have no idea since all we did was just drive through (getting lost a couple times in the process). It's just that on that particular day, Cork wasn't having it. "Move along fatty", it seemed to say. And I listened. I was still smarting from kick in the balls that Dublin delivered.

Kinsale is a small town about 20 miles or so south of Cork. It is, and I hate to use this term but I think it fits: quaint. We rolled into town (having missed the turn to our hotel) at around 3:30 pm on Sunday. Unfortunately the snow had picked up again and since it was going to be getting dark soon we decided to head up to our hotel and check in. There'd be plenty of time on Monday (the 11th, my birthday) to explore the town and enjoy ourselves. The forecast was for a mostly sunny day with temperatures in the high 30's. Hey, things are looking up here. The access road to the hotel was this tiny, narrow road that twisted its way up a slippery hill. We were behind this SUV and they were having some trouble getting up the road. Finally after creeping up the hill at a break neck 8 miles an hour we made it to the entrance to the hotel. The hotel driveway was yet another tiny road that was so narrow that they had places on it where a car could pull over so that one going in the opposite direction could pass. Um, excuse me but...um, if you're going to go through the trouble of carving out these spaces for 2 cars to move around each other, why not make the whole driveway that wide the entire length? No? Ok.

The driveway led back down the same hill we had come up to the hotel itself. At this point the snow had kicked it up another notch and while the Wiff went in to check us in, I went to park the car in the almost empty parking lot. As I was sitting in the car I noticed that the exit ramp that led back out to the hotel driveway was not only steep but covered in snow and ice. Uh oh...Ah, fergettit. I'm sure by the time we get up, have our breakfast and take some pics out on the veranda of the bay this'll all be melted. After all, snow doesn't stick around in Ireland right? Isn't that why they don't bother plowing and shoveling? I gathered myself and made my way into the hotel. The Wiff had our room keys already and we set off for our room. Let me back up a bit here. First of all this hotel is gorgeous. From the grounds to the lobby to the furniture in the lobby, everything just worked. I was pleased. Oh holy shit I hope to hell they have hot water! Aaaaaaaaand drum roll please....THEY DID! Hooray! I can finally scrub my nuts! Oh christ in a bucket am I thrilled! That night we even had a lovely dinner at the hotel bar while chatting with the bartender. I think I like this place.

The next morning after the first really good night of sleep that we'd had since arriving in the country, we woke up to a really pretty day (and we still had hot water!!). The sun was out and there was actual blue sky visible. Holy shit! Check it out! Ireland is all pretty and stuff:

These 2 shots are of the same area just across the bay from our hotel. The little cluster of houses is visible in the center of the bottom pic.


















Wow. Boy, that sure beats the ever lovin' shit out of where I live. We walked around the deck of the hotel taking pictures and generally getting used to the idea that perhaps our luck on this vacation had finally turned for the better and maybe, just maybe we could relax and start having some fun. We went back to the room to figure out where in town we wanted to go. After getting an idea of some places to check out (including Fishy Fishy, a restaurant my boss had recommended we try out) we piled into the car and took off. Remember the long driveway that goes uphill? On one side of this driveway is a rocky slope that while not steep enough to kill you necessarily it certainly would ruin your day. On the other side is the uphill side of that same slope with very large rocks forming a wall. "What about the snow and ice", you ask? It was still there. I forced that little car and its anemic engine (the car did not have snow tires or even all-weather tires on by the way...did you know that snow is rare in Ireland?) all the way up to the point in the drive where there was a 45 degree bend to an even steeper uphill section just before the hotel gates. Right in front of me was what appeared to be an even smaller access road that looked like it might be another way out without trying to get this car up that hill. I made an attempt and realized pretty quickly that no, this was not a good way to go when the car sank up to its rims in mud. Don't make me mad at you Kinsale...you won't like me when I'm mad.

I managed to wrestle the car from the grip of the mud (due to my mad driving skillz) and backed up to the point of the newer steeper incline. It was grinning its icy cold grin at me. "C'mon and try me you giant-headed, whiny cunt", it said. Boy, that's one rude imaginary voice. I backed up a little bit more and then made my first attempt. Fail. I backed up again and shifted the retarded Prius transmission into whatever the equivalent of 1st gear is (it's like "B" or something...I forget. Toyota can blow me) and made another attempt. Fail. This fail had the extra added bonus of more sliding than I was comfortable with. I tried one more time but the car just didn't have enough torque to pull us up the drive and since it also was a turn, I couldn't get enough momentum to simply power my way up. I looked at the Wiff and said, "Look, I don't know that I'm ever going to make it up this hill and if I do make it, what do you think the access road into town is going to be like?" We sighed together and I did a 32 point turn to get the car pointed back down the driveway to the hotel.

When we finally got back to the hotel we went right up to the front desk to ask to talk to the manager. When the manager showed up, a nice guy to be sure, I asked him why is it that they have not done ANY treating of the surface to allow people to get out of the hotel. He went right into the now very familiar explanation of how y'know it never snows here and usually when it does, the snow doesn't stick blah blah blah. I pointed out that it does indeed stick as I'm fucking looking at it right now. He then suggested that we wait an hour (it was about 1 pm. and I can't figure out why waiting an hour was any kind of a solution) and try again. He said that if we did end up getting stuck again (and we would have) that he'd come help to push us out. Oh. My. God. Are fucking kidding me? This is the best solution that you can come up with? I asked him about the giant tractor that was parked at the entrance to the hotel gate yesterday when we arrived. It had a big ol' bucket attached to the front of it. "Why not use that thing to scrape the snow off of the hill? Wouldn't that be a better idea?" He just chuckled and said that they can't do that because of liability issues. He apologized about the icy conditions but said there's little that he could do beyond the "push you" idea. He also verified my concern that if the hotel's driveway was that bad, then the access road into Kinsale was sure to be as bad if not worse.

And that's why we didn't get to go into town. We ended up hanging out in the hotel and having a really good dinner in the restaurant. Since there were only about 20 guests in the whole place the restaurant was almost empty. The next day we woke up to a giant rainstorm with winds of gale force. Ok, Ireland, now you're just fucking with me. I looked out the window and at least the snow had all gone away but now in its place were hundreds of tree branches and, in one case, an entire bush. We checked out and headed on our way with the hope that perhaps Galway will be the savior of this trip. I know I said this'd only be 2 entries but I think another is in order to wrap this all up.

Boo! Rainy, icky.

Next time: Galway. Will it be on fire? Will there be any water at all besides the stuff falling from the sky threatening to wash out the roads? How many Guinness does it take to get me drunk? Tune in, same Bat time, same Bat channel, er...blog.

B to the double RR

So far in my nearly 40 god-forsaken years I have only lived in eastern Massachusetts. This area is not the coldest, it's not the warmest, and it's not ... the anything-est really. When summer comes I always forget just exactly what 95 degrees and super-high humidity feels like. It feels like what I assume Satan's taint would feel like if you were crammed down the backside of his underwear for an entire day. Does Ol' Scratch even wear underwear? Prolly not huh? I mean he's got those goat legs and all so the underwear would be rather restrictive. I mean, off-the-shelf underwear would be anyway. I guess he could commission some custom undies for himself but I'm still not convinced that he's an underwear type of demon. What was I talking about? Oh, right...the weather.

The point being that even though it does get hot and humid here, it typically doesn't last all that long cuz we're so close to the ocean. But, when winter comes? Hoo-boy. That shit seems to linger. It's the same deal as summer where I forget exactly what cold actually is. As fall moves into winter and the days get colder and the layers of clothes get thicker, I am sort of lulled into thinking that the change of seasons is pleasant. Then we have a day where the temp does not move past 5°F (that was last week) and I am instantly reminded that winter is a horrible, mean bitch who is hell bent on freezing my face off.

Yesterday we got our first honest-to-goodness snowfall and it was a doozy. In Lynn (the gateway to Saugus) we ended up with just over a foot of snow, blowing around making drifts of 2-3 feet. And no, I do not have a snowblower. Yes, I realize that there are much colder places and yes, I realize that Syracuse NY got 3 feet of snow in ONE STORM, but I submit to you that people who live in those places are crazy. They are fully aware that this shit happens every goddamn year and yet they refuse to move away from there. That is lunatic behavior. You would only have to tell me once that "It's nice here in the summer and the city is beautiful and blah blah blah. Oh, by the way, we typically get 9.5 feet of snow per year." You would never see me again. Simple as that.

I've been yammering on and on about wanting to move to Maine but I think I have to reevaluate that. I might be too delicate for their winters (which start in October to and end sometime in late May). Sometimes I forget that I'm a weenie.