Hog vs Dog

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Retreating home each weekend from the hustle and bustle of city life hasn't transpired how I anticipated it would lately. It turns out that appallingly my family each have their own individual lives and busy ones at that. Frankly there's no room to incorporate yours truly into the itineraries. Therefore my jaunts home leave me inhabiting subsistence with my canine companion Ozzy and although our weekends don't exactly pan out like the Home Alone film franchise they are ending up terrifyingly entertaining. Through these bonding intervals it has emerged that we are indeed quite similar. Enlighten your next two minutes by browsing through the similarities that I obtain with the pooch.

1. The dog and I share the blonde gene. Although he can't empathise with the humiliation inflicted from this attribute I can always deceive myself into believing he relates to the shame (you had a blonde joke initiated).

2. We are both diabolically bullied by the neighbours' cat. In my defence the cat merely stalks me but I do still acknowledge it as a form of bullying. Especially when interludes in your garden involve next-door's villainous creature shadowing and lurking your every move, ambushing for your sandwich, its prey. The dog is the unfortunate one in this comparison as the offender physically bullies him. She takes his lunch money, screeches abuse towards him and invades his privacy by consistently crashing our back garden that is fundamentally his zone.

3. The pair of us go through these unnatural sneezing fits. Yes, every so often one of us are inundated in sneezing expulsions that last approximately ten-fifteen minutes. Mine are caused by ineffable factors such as the sun or bright lights. My sidekick's are provoked by cigarette smoke, hence why these spasms occur whilst he is situated close to my mother the part-time chimney.

4. Come nightfall we both have leather collars, chains and bondage implemented onto ourselves (joking).

5. Disregarding each of our flaws we are both ultimately loyal and devoted, you would easily fail in finding two greater friends than chaps like us.

Photo courtesy of the twin sister's Facebook page.

Portable Inferno

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Anyone who even somewhat knows me has grasped how much I loathe public transport and the start of this week has just been one disaster after another. Standard buses and intercity buses persisted onto a strike and this supervened into a magnitude of irritated trekking for someone like myself who dismissed the idea of investing in secure footwear. By Tuesday evening mother nature had issued all floodgates and brutality and I had envisioned a video montage of my jaunt home broadcasting to all motorists before they sit their driving tests, solely to predetermine how cruel life in the pre-driving community can be. By the termination of the bus drivers' meager tantrum my feet resembled the organs' of Susie Boyle. In retrospect I have decided to recite the reoccurring tale of my pursuit to disembark from the town strangely without the mill into Galway city. It might command a cackle or two from the minister of transport or a viewer.

Firstly on arrival at my local bus stop it's always fundamental that I usher a tent, basic rations and insect repellent (there's a lot of demented residents conspiring to get on the bus too). Typically the bus will descend into my confines forty minutes before or after its scheduled arrival, generally there's no in between. When the auto-mobile does subsequently grace my inhabitance it is vital I have the exact amount of change for the bus ticket or else I'll receive an automated sigh directed slam bang into my face from gentleman bus-driver, his dismay occasionally exerts the customary aragh. It is a treat if it's a female bus driver but it is a rare circumstance.

Whilst accessing a seat it is still near impossible to dodge all the groping as the handlers are difficult to avoid. I still ought to keep my hands awkwardly crossed as if I'm parked on a slide.

Throughout the bus journey I should remain rigid and treacherous looking as once I relax some pensioner will be drawn into the uninhabited seat beside me or worse a sticky fingered preschooler.

The myth that not thanking the bus driver when exiting the bus results in passengers being brought to a brutal concentration camp is indeed true, best not to chance it so I exit the vehicle declaring my gratitude for the two hour service I've splendidly received but with that twitch in my eye still firmly intact.

Bus Eireann's methodology to brake is only slightly more advanced than Otto's.

Subsequent Chapter

Saturday, May 11, 2013

No, I have not acquired my first cat in the view of evolving into the west of Ireland's latest cat breeding crackpot. Nor have I decided to pursue my fascination with roller-coasters by becoming a full-time adrenalin junkie. I have in fact drafted a brief list to joyride my life directly out of lazy-town (no offence Sportacus) and submit myself into a more sophisticated lifestyle. After securing an enjoyable new job, moving back up to the city of the tribes, finally completing my college application and investing in some matching socks I am now flourishing. Therefore this blog-post will spurge me on with the elements I'm deteriorating in or else may I feel the wrath of the cyber trolls. If you're interested in what I'm aiming to elevate in (which I shall deduce you are considering you clicked into my blog) then wallah please dig in.

1. Employment. As I stated earlier I have recently snatched a delicious new job. Knowing me the countdown has consequently activated to predict how long it will be before I screw it all up and in what manner I intend to execute the blunders in. Youngster be punctual, diligent and make me some moneys.

2. Reading. I read a lot but perusing through the sides of cereal boxes, verses on karaoke machines and home-pages of social-networks is not going to be of much benefit to me unless my Miley Cyrus tribute act gets promoted to cruise-ship entertainment.

3. Exercise. I get out of breath whilst marching down to the local fast-food restaurant. Outrageously that is even before I smell a trace of garlic and the sheer excitement causes me to hyperventilate into severe gasping of breath. More exercise, preferably non-contact sport as I've two right feet (and I'm left handed). I'll experiment into some jogging as the gym demands cash and cash is evidently for sweets. Oh, wait.

4. Befitting Nutrition. I know this point is realistically the same as number three but when you are in a position that you boil your potatoes in Lucozade and apply both butter, chicken and cheese to your porter cake then the diabetes is just a morning doughnut away (joking). Humour aside I would ideally favour more fruit and veg on my daily menu.

5. Sleeping. I cannot accurately portray how dominating my slumber pattern is. Each night I enter into a deep hibernation where I ultimately dream about future snoozes. It's almost as oppressive as my fondness for quintupled bullet-pointed blog-posts.