Tag Archives: iDJ

Paddy’s Day Choons!


Paddy’s Day, never Patty’s Day! Remember that and you will make an Irish person happy.

I had to do a post for iDJ to support his hard work last week; doing his Special days and days before the big day. He made sure that we all have some proper Irish music to see us through tomorrow.

No longer live, but as an extra-special Special at three hours long, you can get the podcast via this link (and you don’t need to have the Podomatic application to play it).

There is a playlist if you open it in your browser so you can see who recorded that awesome thing you just heard, too!

Easter Radio Special!


Not for the religious: or at least, not for the religious who can’t stand hearing a good bit of what is probably blasphemy. Show starts in 30 minutes, and of course I’ll put up the link to the podcast afterwards, when it is all said and done and all the wine has been drunk!

Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/soulshenanigans

Radio station link: http://www.radio23.org/

s o u l s h e n a n i g a n s
“playing funkpunksoul’n’such” on freeform radio
this 17th April 2014 PST: 12-2pm EST: 3-5pm GMT: 8-10pm
This week: EP 267 :: a secular Maundy Thursday supper to cater for all of y’all Easter needs!

For anyone new – the DJ is my darling dear hubby, known here as iDJ. He’s been doing this show for over five years now, and knows his stuff!

He also does a new poster every week, and since the show is on Thursday, this year his theme has been throwbacks. Gotta love this one, on his confirmation day (he gave the name back a few years ago).


Podcast/playlist: http://soulshenanigans.podomatic.com/entry/2014-04-17T15_37_58-07_00 . Can either stream it, or download it.

Paddy’s Day Music Special!


Hi! I have plenty of notice to give this time – nearly a whole day in advance. Go me! Actually, it’s ‘Go iDJ’…
He’s been doing the Soul Shenanigans internet radio show for five years. Unpaid, by the way – it is all for the love of music – and he really does have a fabulous St Patrick’s Day show every year. It only needed a couple of tweaks and a new poster and bam! he had it all done tonight by 10pm (instead of around 3am, the man doesn’t seem to need sleep). So here I am, able to blog about it and share the love the day before instead of the day of.

Here’s the poster; he’s been scanning old photos out of his personal archive. This one dates to Paddy’s Day 1989. I think it is just perfect.


As always: his Facebook is here, and the link to the live show is here.

Past broadcasts are on Podomatic – but they don’t stay up forever. Very much a limited time offer!

And since he’s a terrible self-promoter, here’s the donate link, too! (donations go to keep the station on the air, not to SoulShenanigans)

Damn that Talented Hubby o’ Mine…


…and his spiffy ‘real camera.’ Imma just going to put these here.


Really, iDJ? You’re just showing off now.

That jerk. How dare he spend his lunch hour taking really awesome flower pictures just for me (and you)!

Dinner and a conversation


Hubby has his Internet radio show every Thursday. It’s from 8 to 10 our time, and then he has some bits n pieces to finish off afterward, so we don’t get to eat until rather late.

Last night I decided I had the time to pick some fresh herbs to put on the pork roast, and he decided he had the time to chop them for me (I dislike chopping them, not sure why as the smell is amazing). I brought in oregano, basil, rosemary, and thyme, and added two garlic cloves that were also home-grown. I always pick too much! The pork was nearly crusted in greenery (I also add salt and black pepper, can’t grow them).

I got ambitious then, knowing that we’d have more good green stuff than necessary, and I decided I also had time to make a salad. We’ve not had one in ages, as hubby never seems interested when I say I want one.

I didn’t use the rocket (arugula) I grew, as it has gone all tough and leggy and seedy. And I forgot I had it. So, boring old iceberg lettuce from the supermarket. With my only four ripe cherry tomatoes – one the size of my pinky fingernail – and a sliced carrot from the Stupid Girl raised bed. That carrot was so damn tasty and sweet! For the dressing I added a bit of dried chopped garlic and my leftover cut herbs into a bit of white wine vinegar and let it sit. I didn’t need to add the fresh herbs; the point of putting anything in the vinegar is to rehydrate a dried spice – so if you don’t have fresh spices, toss everything in the vinegar, whatever is to hand. I don’t measure, sorry – eyeball it! I decided this time to add the fresh ones as the cutting board was hogging all my counter space.

The pork cooks for about 2 hours… when the meat is done I let it sit on a plate, and add water (or sometimes flat Pepsi) to the pan and swish it about to turn the yummy caramelisation flavour into a bit of jus. I add olive oil to the vinegar and swish that about a lot too, before pouring over the veggies. Simple and tasty!

Hubby likes to rate our meals out of 10. Usually he just rates his own cooking, the little egotist. I asked him for his rating of my dinner this time, as he kept saying how great it was.

“The salad is a 9.5! But, it was so good that the meat got lost. So the meat is only an 8. I give the overall meal an 8.”

“Wait, what? How do I get downgraded from a 9.5 and an 8 to an overall 8? Did you forget how averages work?”

“I’m sticking with an 8. The salad overshadowed the meat, sorry.”

A disappointing result. So much for not showing interest in my salads, eh?

Birthday Begging, on iDJ’s behalf


Hi there all you lovely people!

I rarely do this. But tomorrow is my dearest’s 40th, and tonight is his last Internet radio show as a 30-something! Please come and listen? High listener rates will thrill him to bits, and who wouldn’t want to be thrilled to bits?

If you’re on Facebook you can follow his show “Soul Shenanigans“. That’s good fun as he makes a new poster every week! Look at this week’s:


That’s him, cute and blonde even then.

Otherwise, visit here: Radio23.org or errorfm.com.

He’ll be on Channel A, in just about an hour. He’s interactive, too, so you can send him a happy birthday message or tell him he’s an old, out-of-touch fart and to get off your digital airwaves, if you like.

I’m hoping for the former!

EDIT: show is over but available via podcast!

I am definitely 18mos +


Amongst his other lovely habits, Spot likes to drink water out of cups. We humans also like to drink out of cups, and we both have a glass by the bedside for quenching our middle-of-the-night thirsties. These used to be just a regular kinda glass, until I discovered at 3am that my glass not only contained water, but a skin of cat fur and a chunk of cat litter marinating at the bottom. After I was done gagging, I changed our water containers to ones with lids.

These were plastic Rubbermaid containers that I had brought over from the States, and they just couldn’t keep up with years of nightly use. They have died, one by one, over the last eight years. The most recent and final death was my cup, dammit.

And we had nothing to replace it. I couldn’t find anything suitable for sale around here, either. You see, essential to my 3am thirsties is being able to open the container without waking up fully. Screw tops are too hard for me. If I think that have to wake up that much, I’ll choose to go back to sleep. No matter how parched I am.

For a while I had a regular glass with a post-it sitting on top as a Spot-blocker. But I got lazy about putting the paper back on, and Spot found it, and I ended up drinking cat hair again. Nothing extra, thankfully.

iDJ knew well of my tribulations. He also does all the grocery-shopping. Without making an announcement, he had been looking for a replacement water-glass for me! That alone is pretty impressive (the no-announcement bit).

He brought me home this.

It’s a sippy-cup. For babies.



Actually, as he explained to my bemused face as I unpacked the shopping bag, he spent a lot of mental effort on picking out my sippy-cup. He wanted to get me the one with cats on it, but the cat one was meant for babies below 18 months. He had to at least get my age range right, even if it meant no kitties. This one is robots, which he knows are also acceptable to me. Better, it’s no-spill, so I won’t have a recurrence of the time I spilled water all over myself, my pillow, my side of the bed, and – of course – Spottie. I can drink from this thing while flat on my back! Even better than that, it’s insulated so my water might still be cold by the unreasonable time I want some. That’s a massive plus in my book, I hate water. I hate warm water even more.

I don’t think I have ever owned a sippy-cup. Pretty sure these didn’t exist in any form back in the early 70’s. Prove me wrong if I’m wrong, I’m kinda interested to know for sure.

I haven’t quite figured out the mechanics of the thing; it seems you have to bite it to get the water flowing, and there’s a vacuum problem that prevents a really good draught. But if an 18-month-old can figure it out, I might have a chance.

Professor Spot


I can’t do the dishes unless iDJ is home, too. This is because when I would get home first I would immediately try to do some cleaning up. The sound of rattling silverware became a cue that ‘daddy’ would be home soon, and Spot would start in with the caterwauling. So I wait, now, to save me from murdering his little furry ass.

He finds other things to get over-excited about, however. The church is close enough to us that the 6pm Angelus bells are very audible. ‘Daddy’ also gets out of work at 6. Both Spot and Neko get a bit crazy and a lot annoying when the bells start to chime; they know when the bells are about to play, too, and get wound up in anticipation. I hate hate hate this behaviour.

But I’m helpless. No matter what I say and how many times I repeat it, I have never been able to convince hubby that this excitement is bad. Bad for me, bad for him, and bad for the furry kids. I’m totally ignored: every day when he comes home he greets Spot and Neko at the door and gives them tons of attention, and then feeds the cats their special wet food after giving them massive love and affection – as they SCREAM THEIR HEADS OFF for both. And the dog bounces around the house, and drools, and whines, and brings innumerable toys to him, and then also gets a food treat.

Makes me want to vomit.

Nevertheless, I think at least some of my long experience and expertise with animals (that has now become constant bitching) has rubbed off on himself. He noticed tonight that Spot is trying to train him to do a new trick.

This is Spot, sitting in the sink after I’ve finally managed to do the damn dishes. Or as many as I can because the damn dish drainer fills up before I’m done – hence all the crap still sitting around my sink. Anyhoo, Spot did this for the first time ever last night. I was not in the room. I got to hear about it in detail, however, as iDJ narrates everything. Everything.

“Hey, Spottie, whatcha doing? Whatcha doing in the sink? Hey, hon, guess where Spotty is? He’s sitting in the sink! Awww, how cute is that? Hey Spottie! What do you want, buddy? You want me to turn the water on for ya? Do you want a drink? Here you go, Spottie-Pants! Now, I need to put my headphones back on, so I won’t hear you when you’re done… Hon, he’s drinking from the tap! Awwww, how cute is that? I love it when he drinks from the tap!” (giggling sounds more suited to a 4-year-old)

Tonight, Spot got in the sink again. And right away hubby realised he was being trained! And told me so in great detail. Of course.

As he turned the tap on.

Who, me? Bwah ha ha ha haaaa!

Poked in the what?


We have our tree! Bought last Sunday and left to drip water, needles and dirt on the floor for two days. Oh lawsy it was filthy! Looked great when propped sideways in the pile of lesser trees, in the pitch-black gas-station parking lot where we bought it. Not so lovely when it left smears of dirt on the door frames and walls as we dragged it inside.

After it dried off, we wanted to put the lights on first, as you do.

When it was time to do the lights, I sort of “forgot” that putting the lights on the tree is my job. Ok, I tried to pretend that I forgot. iDJ is always so happy and, um, proactive, about putting the lights in our windows. I pretty much attempted to make him think that all of the lights are his job. He copped on right away but decided he would still give it a try. Win! Sort of.

I was in the room when he started. For moral support. Because when he does anything new, he requires an audience, and everything he does must be narrated. As you do. Of course, I got to hear a few complaints/comments on how I wrapped up the lights for storage the year before (well, yah, I wrapped them up in a way that made sense to me. I do the damn lights, after all). And I had to give tips on where to start (leave a bit extra so you can poke it up into the tree-topper, don’t forget). Par for the course – I’m used to his foibles by now. And I had beer. Nothing could perturb me.

A little bit of back story now. Just to set the scene, and give you an idea of how very brave iDJ was in offering to put the lights on the tree.

For the last two years we’ve bought a short-needled tree, of a totally unknown genus, because I don’t like the long-needled pines they have here. They are too soft and droopy for all my heavy ‘Merican ornaments, and, well, I just prefer a tree with shorter needles. For me a Christmas tree is not any variety of pine. It took me five years to convince my hubby that a short-needle tree wouldn’t kill him.

You see, he has told me that about ten years ago, a tree did try to kill him. He was putting lights on a tree at his workplace and got poked by the needles. Apparently he had a very bad reaction to this. I’m a very unsympathetic person and while I remember the story, I didn’t take it seriously at all.

However, when he started to put the lights up, he only got this far:

Yeah, it’s hard to see. It’s my only photographic evidence, however. He wrapped a tiny bit of the string of lights around the very top of the tree and then he had to stop. Immediately, and quite vocally.

Because he got poked in the dick.


He got pricked in the prick. Lanced in the langer. Skewered in the sausage. Needled in the…well, I’ll stop with the comparisons there, I think.

Needless to say, that was the end of him putting lights on our tree that evening.

Being the unsympathetic person that I am, I said that it was no problem, I would finish the job the next day. And then I bit my lip until Oirish Tirsday when I could giggle over the story with Socks.

Socks got to laughing so hard over the idea of iDJ wussing out and running away from a tree that it became contagious and I forgot to be grumpy and realised there was indeed something funny in my life after all.

But it gets better. Socks loved this story so much that she told her hubby, Bear. Today, I got this photo in my inbox (face changed to protect the sarcastic):

This is Bear, making fun of my hubby from 3,000 miles away. I love this man!

And yes, when putting the ornaments on the tree tonight, iDJ got poked in the dick again. Sigh.