It was always going to go wrong at the weekend. It was a boring day in work. I was giving two lads a lift and one of them wasn't hurrying himself like I asked, which meant we left at 16:05 rather than 16:00, which may sound insignificant, however, Dublin traffic on a Friday is crazy all day but with every passing minute after 16:00 hours it gets progressively worse. So leaving 5 minutes later is actually quite significant.
I didn't get to Maynooth until 17:30, which would have been more like 17:10 if I had those extra 5 minutes. However, I got a Subway (Italian BMT...yum...drool) on the way, which made my lateness a little more bearable. However, I broke my promise to only eat healthy food for Lent. (I like to do things big style, I gave up swearing and everything that is bad for me except for caffeine.) Fail. I'll hope back on the wagon, it's grand.
So, then I packed bags in aid of the Peamount fund for the women's team to go to Europe until about 20:30. So then I was kind of tired and had a few slips but all in all it was only about 9 swears for the day.
Saturday, back bag packing again. 11:00 until about 17:00, then the Man United and Ireland matches. Much swearing (thanks to one, rather sick, but hilarious, mini pea!). Much eating of junk food (thanks to the same pea, the temptation of packing snacks into shopping bags all day and, general tiredness). I proceeded to fall asleep for several hours on my Elephant Bear.
Sunday. Waiting 45 minutes for a bus in the slight cold. I hate pleblic transport. A small child waved at me. Her minder had just filled her bottle half-full with Powerade. Dangerous move. A man asked me when the bus was coming. My Mum always tells me I'm not approachable, apparently the general public does not roll with this view, much to my annoyance. The peasant wagon was full and stuffy. Several swears rolled through my mind that I did not vocalize, so they don't count.
I met the college-mate, American and Pole, had some unremarkable food and a beer then sauntered off to the Jameson factory. A bad tour and a free whiskey later and we were on our way to PYG to pay €5 to be branded with their stamp and get 40% off our drinks. The rest was a spiraling free fall of swearing, drinking and playing our own 5 question version of "All Star Mr and Mrs". Another Subway and another bogger buggy and I was home. Intoxicated, singing to myself and after jogging home (!!).
No comments:
Post a Comment