Category Archives: Random

I Got Nuttin’ to Say

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So here are cute pics of my fur-babies.

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I know I give more e-time to the cats than the dog; so here she is having a nap on a freshly-washed rope toy. She is gorgeous.

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Might not look like it, but Spot was passed out hard with his chin on his “brother’s” flank.

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Brotherly lurve, including the underside of Spotty’s pink tongue.

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The best photo that wasn’t. If I’d gotten this in focus, it would have been right amazing! But I didn’t, so it isn’t, but you still are looking at it.

Red Dwarf Season 11!!!

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I am inordinately happy about this. Yes, I’m a giant geek.

http://www.giantfreakinrobot.com/scifi/red-dwarf-blasts-eleventh-season.html

Some of the text from the website GiantFreakinRobot:

“Fans of deep space wackiness, robots, amazing absurdity, and a creature descended from the common house cat, have a lot to be grateful today. Once thought long dead, the venerable British sci-fi sitcom Red Dwarf is coming back to life one more time. Co-creator Doug Naylor has signed on to write an eleventh season, one which is already scheduled to shoot later this year.

For the uninitiated, Red Dwarf is the story of Dave Lister (Craig Charles). Through a series of unfortunate events he is the last living human in the known universe, and is stranded on a mining ship lost three million years in deep space. His only companions are the hologramatic recreation of his former bunkmate, a twit named Arnold Judas Rimmer (Chris Barrie); Kryten (Robert Llewellyn), a neurotic maintenance droid with a head that looks like a pencil eraser; and Cat (Danny John-Jules), a vain, ditzy humanoid that evolved from Lister’s cat Frankenstein. There’s also a time-addled computer, who has gender reassignment surgery part of the way through the series. The crew has all sorts of crazy adventures, meet all manner of space creatures, robots, and half-mad killer cyborgs, and even travel through time on occasion.”

Let’s hope this works: YouTube link to a really good top ten best of clips. I’m grinning like crazy still.
http://youtu.be/UVmKeisK2cU

How Many of Your 9 Lives Are Left?

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My darling dear had a terribly close call while driving to the shops recently. An auld wan pulled out right in front of him, on a wet road, when he had a young wan about a meter and a half off his bumper. (For the non-Irish: wan means woman, basically just ‘one’ but rarely used for men.) Cars coming the other way, too. He made the quick decision to pass the old dear right snappy, nearly clipping her wing mirror in the action, and facing down the oncoming traffic. He made it, and left the young woman tailgating his arse to deal with the slow car instead.

Braking hard would have made a sandwich of our Mini, and steering while under ABS braking isn’t ideal. So he went for it, as I would have too, because while the Mini is 11 years old and just went over 125,000 miles on Friday, she is quick when you need her to be. I trust in that car daily when faced with slow arseholes behind slower tractors going around hard curves on narrow ass roads.

There is a dammed good reason Minis are used as rally cars!

As usual, I’ve gone off into a story instead of getting to my point. Which is entirely based on the Facebook update he did after arriving home: “Many thanks to the lady who pulled out in front of me (doing 65mph) today. If I braked, Ms tailgater behind would’ve been on my lap so boot to the floor into oncoming traffic & bye. Missed her wing mirrors by inches & lost one of my cat lives.”

Cat lives… we say that cats have nine lives, of course. I know hubby has had some bad times and if he thinks this is a number down, I believe him. I know of one other time he came close. So unless I want to get him all grumpy thinking about other times, I’ll say he still has seven. In reality, it’s probably six, but I don’t want to put him in a bad mood by asking. Maybe five. Who knows. Four? Sure there was at least one close call when he was very small.

I already did one post about a time I could have died, so I won’t go into the others. That post was gory enough!

How many cat lives out of nine do you have left? Tell me a story or write a post and link back if you find it’s a really good story!

Help! Creativity Needed!

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Help! Creativity Needed!

Okay, all you fabulous creative people! I’m a big recycler, and I’m dreading the thought of throwing HUNDREDS of these into the skip! Any ideas on what they could be used for? About 6.5in across, and NOT recycle marked, they are lids to medical sharps containers that are defective (in that the white plastic bit doesn’t slide easily). Once that white bit is fully closed, it cannot be opened again – these are meant for biohazard needles and to be incinerated when full. Please help me come up with ideas to save them from a landfill!

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Lift that Box, Tote that Chair

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Thought I’d share with you a wee bit of my work duties. I only took these pics as I was suffering with the damn sinus infection I’ve had since the 18th, and it was dammed hard to do my job on Monday. So these are 100% feel-sorry-for-me photos.

I had two returned chairs in big awkward boxes that needed to be put back into stock. First I had to see if there were other chairs in stock and on a shelf so I could put these two with the rest. Well- I never have to, but it is the right thing to do, and the logical thing to do. So that’s what I try to do, of course.

The bastard chairs only lived in one place – up on a C rack – meaning they were not gonna be easy to put away if I still wanted to be right and logical. Dammit. The only logical place that they would fit was up there in the sky…

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Keep in mind that I’m 5ft7in, so my eye-level for taking these pics was already close to 6ft or 3 metres off the ground. Sigh. I was daunted.

But. Yes. I horsed them up there, panting and wheezing and whathaveyou. But I did it, despite being sick as a dog and clumsy as hell.
>

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I am rather proud of what I can do when it has to be done and I’m the only one who can. I’m not too shabby in the muscle department either these days!
And I’m nearly entirely over my fear of heights now, too. >

A Picture Speaks a Thousand Words?

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I’m super low on energy as I have some sort of upper respiratory infection.

Also, coming down off the Paddy’s Day festivity excitement is slightly depressing.

Also, I always get a little weirder than normal in the spring. Even as a child, spring has messed with my head. All that potential life and energy and just plain potential, stored up and waiting to burst into…. well, I never quite managed to burst into anything particularly special so maybe that’s why I get a bit bummed out.

Anyhoo – I got a wee ceramic watering can and some narcissus bulbs for Christmas. I planted them and left them on my kitchen windowsill to grow.

And they did, of course. And they also looked like Spottie’s favourite snack – a long stringy thing. After he had a good munch, I moved them to the fireplace mantle, which is out of reach and too crammed with stuff for Spot to consider jumping up.

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I thought I was just taking a picture of my flowers. But what I saw was a little snapshot of me and who I am, displayed above my fireplace. Shall we have a tour?

Left to right: The plate is one made by my dad and his wife. She is a potter, amongst many other talents, and for several years they made Celtic pottery and toured the USA selling their wares at Irish festivals. Absolutely stunning work, and I’m very happy and proud to display their craft where it can be seen immediately. I’d love to share a link, but sadly they have retired from pottery-making.

The skulls – in old Ferrero Rocher chocolate boxes, no less – are ones I found myself. Top is a fox, bottom is a groundhog. I have a cat and an opossum, too – they just aren’t in the photo.

Well, the flowers of course. The wee watering can actually works as one, so it is pretty efficient at getting rid of excess water, despite having no drainage holes at the bottom (ye know, where they normally are). If you have time to stand around holding it at an angle to drip while keeping the long leaves from breaking. Meh. Will move the narcissus elsewhere I think.

The wonderful Celtic-carved skull! Man I love that thing. I bought it at the Cleveland Irish festival one year when dad came to sell their wares. I just fell in love with it. I believe I got it from Gaelsong – be warned, they are more than happy to send you catalogs full of drool-worthy items. I don’t see much stuff of their quality even over here. Maybe they just have an awesome photographer…

The wee white thing is a Philips IMAGEO LED candle light – we have them in red and blue and just love them. That’s the US/Canada link, but of course they sell them in Ireland and the UK (not sure about Australia/New Zealand). Cheap to run, charge quickly and cheaply, can be used on the charge base while lit, and give nice flickery light for hours and hours with no fire danger. I’d give them a 10 out of 10.

There is also the tiniest bit of a postcard that Socks sent me from her vacation to Maine in the fall of last year. ‘got lobstah?’ Hahahaha! I’d love to go to Maine.

Last – because it is not the least, not by any means – is the Ouija board.

I wrote so very much about that board that I think I will have to take a better photo of just the board and do a separate post. It’s incredibly important to me and deserves an explanation.

What treasures do you keep in a place of honour?

Do You See What is Right in Front of You?

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I hope you remember this guy?

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It turns out that Puking Man has a big brother. Peeing Man!

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Wow, just wow. An ISO graphical symbol for a man whizzing into a plastic bag! I had no idea that they could top The Puker, but they have.

Sorry to disappoint, but there isn’t a baggie for the ladies. I looked. But, I promise that if the make an ISO graphic of someone using a female urinal, you will be the first to know.

I asked our shop assistant if she’d ever noticed the little people that were doing odd things on the boxes… she had not. This display is only a few steps from the cash register. Hmm, brightly coloured illustrations of cartoon people demonstrating funny bodily functions into rather awkward conveniences. How could she not have seen them? Then again, she never saw me laughing and taking the photo, either… at least I gave her a giggle, and confirmed in her mind that I am not quite right.

And then, there is the new hand soap in the bathroom at work. We end up with lots of different medical-grade hand washing goop, of course (samples abound, being in the medical supply business and all). But I’m not about to try this one.

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Doesn’t that scare you a bit, too? I have to say ‘no’ to using hand-soap that specifically mentions not to get it ON MY BRAIN. Shit, that über-specific warning isn’t even on the ‘Patient Information Leaflet’ – it’s right on the front of the damn bottle! I don’t even want to look at the bottle now for fear my meninges might get some of it on them – or on it – whatever.

You would truly hope that anyone who knows what meninges (I had to Google, yep) are would also know what cutaneous (I did not have to Google, nope) means. Nothing about ‘cutaneous’ means you should consider injecting it into a human joint, or lather up a brain or spinal cord. I am not, not! going to Google how they found out that doing either was a really bad idea.

Chill Factor = Low

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I have to say that while the winter and spring have been windier and wetter than usual for most of Ireland, it has been pretty much the same old, same old around my part of Mayo. While Cork was sinking underwater and Limerick was blowing away, I had a plant fall over a few times and the empty rubbish bin went for a short roll about the back garden.

Its also not been particularly cold. Light snow a couple of days, frost in the morning occasionally. I’ve taken photos of the white stuff every time I could, but that’s not been often.

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Once on the way to work, I was surprised to suddenly find a bit of slush on the road – there was none just a few miles away where I live.

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One day at work, the snow came down quite hard. But it didn’t stick long enough for us to even have a snowball fight (dammit).

The second week of February, it snowed more at home than at work for a change. When I went upstairs to get out of my monkey suit (work clothes), I saw the tracks I’d left backing into the driveway.

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Nearly perfect job I did, if I say so myself! It looked so strange I had to get a picture. Ears? A flower? What do you think? If I get some creative ideas I could try to make some art out of this. I need some inspiration!

I was going to put up a few more, but I think I’ll save them for their own post. Artsy-fartsy stuff, you know!

Damn, this Traffic Jam, I Really Hate to be Late

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I’ve been holding on to these photos since summer 2012! I wasn’t in a blogging mood then, but it seems I’m getting back into the swing of things.

iDJ and I had driven out to Urlaur Lake, so I could go snorkelling. Unfortunately the place was jam-packed, and there were even two dammed Jet-Ski’s out on the water, rocketing around, scaring the swans and fish. Um, no: I don’t desire to have my underwater magic world soundtracked by whining engines. Plus we had Dogzilla with us, and she is terrified of children – of which there were many.

Poo.

So we went off in search of something else to do. On the way, I got to experience my first traffic-jam, County Mayo style!

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Don’t you just love that the cattle were being moved along by bicycle? The cows are taking up both lanes, too – clearly not too many other cars had been up or down the road recently.

(Yes, we are geeks, and R2-D2 talks when you bop him on the head.)

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Interesting that the cattle had nearly all moved to the correct side of the road after passing us – except for that one big brown girl who can just barely be seen on the left. She was all about the tasty road-grass.

The white/blue-grey one with the eyeshadow that was giving iDJ the stink-eye was bigger than our Mini Cooper. Yikes.

I was in the passenger seat, repeating ‘ohshitohshitohshit’ under my breath, while smiling like crazy at the experience of seeing a herd of cattle parting around the car. ‘Don’t knock the wing mirrors off! Please…? Gooood cows, niiiice cows!’ No damage was done to the Mini – unless you count the poop-splatters acquired further up the road.