Thankfully, the nitendo is white, the psp is black and the computer doesn’t have an internet connection so my 9 year old niece dumbed things down for me! In a stream of conscious type of excitement, she told me, ‘I’d like game x for the white one and game y for the black one’.

The long and short of it is that she’d like Age of Empires for the computer and MySims for the white one (sorry, the nintendo DS). But I was a bit freaked out when she told me about one of the games she already has. It’s called Imagine: Babies for the Nintendo. I didn’t believe her that it was an actual game. But it is! It’s so incredibly sexist and demeaning that I can’t believe it’s allowed to be sold. As you’ll see from the description below, it’s targeted specifically at girls.

Basically she has to pretend to be a babysitter and earn money.

Here’s a description from game.co.uk

Embody a young student who visits her grandmother’s house for the summer. Your grandmother leaves to go on holiday and leaves you in charge of her house. During her absence you will have to maintain the house and even decorate it to your taste. In order to do this you will need to earn money by taking care of all your neighbour’s babies, where you will find your vocation–babysitting!

Imagine: Babies Features:

* Embody a young babysitter and take of your neighbour’s babies all with their own personalities!
* Take care of 6 babies (one after the other), each with a distinctive character.
* Prepare their bottle and baby food in the kitchen, check on the amount of food in stock and buy the right food according to their needs.
* Rock the babies in a cradle, put on the soothing radio or move the mobile to help them sleep or to calm them down.
* Change their nappies to keep them clean, keep an eye on their health and dress them up with different clothes
* Entertain the babies: Play with them and their toys, play music to make them dance and take them into the garden to play on swings and other garden toys
* Exchange information, photos and clothing with other players through Wi-Fi
* Keep the house clean: Use fun mini-games to create a welcoming home for the babies: wash up, clean and vacuum, paint the walls, mow the grass, trim hedges and drive away spiders!
* Make the house to your own taste: Use the money you earn and the vouchers you receive in succeeding in your missions, buy items at the shops to decorate the house

/Rant

We bought a new car and the wife crashed it. I said, ‘what happened?‘ She said, ‘There was a pine tree, I went left and it swung to the left, I went to the right and it swung to the right.’ I said, ‘Ah yes, that would be the air-freshner.’

A Rob Chubby Brown joke, I’m told.

So without further ado, I’d like to tell you that grumpy old man (no relation) has launched his new blog, Border Cobblers. It’s well worth a read – here’s a taster – Revolutionary New Mouse Design For Women. I laughed…a little bit…through gritted teeth.

I visited today to do the computer updates and walk her dog (long story but karma is involved!!). Since the updates would take an hour or more, I asked for a can of coke. She didn’t have any cans cold enough. In her opinion, this is a mortal sin so she dashed to the shops to buy me a can of coke. She returned with three cans of coke, a large packet of mini-mars bars and two tins of dog food for me the dog. Sometimes 2+2=5!

She’s a typical Irish mammy – she won’t rest until the visitor has eaten. She doesn’t eat while I’m eating – ‘Oh, I’ve just had lunch etc‘. Dell, or whoever, should employ her for her just-in-time skills. She doesn’t exactly hover around me while I’m eating but I wouldn’t be suprised if someday she bought a gadget that measured the tension of my trouser buttons to ensure I’d eaten enough in one sitting to last a complete week.

She’s also bought a digital camera, the Canon Powershot A540, from Pixmania. My suggestion was to start at the A540 and have a look around since her budget was approx €200. But, no, she just bought it. Pixmania is a French company and DHL do their deliveries. I showed her the DHL tracking website and how the information showed how it was in France on Wed, the Uk on Thurs, and in the back of an Irish van today (Friday). And, as luck karma would have it, the DHL guy actually showed up at the exact same moment. She was dumbstruck. Actually, she wasn’t dumbstruck. She triumphantally told the delivery man how ‘my son‘ was tracking him to the front door. He looked at me. And I looked at him. And all I could do was smile weakly.

Anyhows, I brought the dog for a walk. Talk about mind games!! Mama isadub has Snowy well trained. Or maybe it’s vice versa? Most days, they walk to the nearby beach following a particular route and then they walk home, again, along a particular route but smartypants isadub had to choose a alternative path. it was a different, shorter, route because it was going to rain very soon. Isadub, with his glasses, doesn’t do rain but Snowy wasn’t having any of it.

That’s what we saw on the beach. I put the collar and leash on the dog as tightly as I dared and brought him to the beach. All went reasonably well until it started to rain. I ‘explained‘ to Snowy that it was time to go home because the rain was making me feel uncomfortable. In a fine display of empathy, Snowy refused to budge and dug his heels in (literally). I tugged at the leash as hard as I dared to encourage him to come home (to the car). The ungrateful bastard slipped out of his collar and ran away, through a puddle, in the opposite direction. I knew if I ran after him, he’d only run further away, thinking it was a game. So I jumped in the car and chased after him.

When I caught up with Snowy, he promptly started running back towards the beach! Luckily, he seemed to get a bit afraid of all this ‘freedom‘ so, when I called to him, he came running back to me like a long lost son. I was having none of it. There was no back seat, cushioned, ride for him since he’d insisted on walking through every puddle and body of water available. As a prisoner of war, he was deposited in the large boot (of my S-Max) and driven escorted him home.

My mother’s neighbours must have thought something weird was happening when I arrived back. Normally, I park my car opposite the house but this time, I reversed my car right up to my mother’s front door. I alighted and opened the front door of the house before I went back to the car boot. I had to distract Snowy before I opened the boot but I picked him up and physically carried him inside the house like a Category A prisoner serving life for heinous crimes.

And do you know what the fecker did once inside? He walked strutted upstairs to his bed like nothing unusual had happened. Just a walk in the park (or the beach) for him. Me? I had to sit down for a few minutes and compose myself. I can cope with business pressures, instant decision-making, and mega-bucks deals but an arthritic, asthmatic walking ball of hair just throws me!

I am definitely never, ever, going to rub his back or tickle his belly again. I may scratch behind his ear from time to time but I won’t mean it.

Sometimes you just can’t win but that’s life, I guess!

The weather was pretty bad from Liverpool to Belfast airport and there was a lot of turbulence. The pilot couldn’t land the first time and had to fly around for a second attempt. He was determined to land the second time and, by god, he certainly did. In my amateur opinion, most pilots will get the plane about 10 metres off the ground and just throttle back. The plane will descend reasonably smoothly and everybody lives happily ever after. This pilot positioned the plane in roughly the right place and just dropped it on the tarmac. I think I hurt my back as well even though I knew it was coming. The fecking plane bounced violently and he had to break sharply because he must have glided too far down the runway. At least nobody clapped in appreciation.

It took a bit longer than usual to off the plane as well. It was raining so heavily that the air hostesses wouldn’t look out the door to help the airside guys get the stairs lined up against the side of the aircraft. Eventually, one of them lost (or was volunteered) and she did the needful.

I much prefer pilots to have simple monosyllabic names like Tim, Bill, Ann, or Fran etc. Subconsciously, you know you’re safe with someone like that. Timothy, Mario, Louise, or Francesa just doesn’t cut it.

Easyjet – I hate you!!

My two days in Chester was good fun. There was about 10 of us in a 60/40 male/female split. We’re all ambitious, type-A sort of people and we are not afraid to voice our opinions. We only meet once or twice a year so put the 10 of us in a room, turn off the air-conditioning, and discuss ‘money’ (our money) as the topic and the verbal sparks flew all day. It was good fun. Sparks of a different sort flew after dark, hehe.

It was a long day for most of us as we’d travelled from all parts of the UK and Ireland. We started to relax and unwind when we got to the restaurant. It was a tex-mex place called Dos Americanos or something. The food was spicy, the conversation spicier, and the booze explosive. We didn’t realise it for a little while but the person doing the ordering was getting double tequilla’s for each round. And that tells it’s own story. Poison! Then we went on a pub crawl. (Aside: can you get barred from a pub if you’re only visiting for the day??)

One woman, soon-to-be-married, had a little kiss with a man, who is just married. The next day (i.e., this morning), we arranged it so they sat together in the front of the mini-bus on the way back to the airport!! One woman had to be carried home. Another woman who used to be a holiday rep (bleach-blonde and all the rest) had us pretending to washing machines, and kettles, and dishwashers (with sounds and actions). The punchline was ‘but I’ve got a couple of mugs behind me‘. One of the men started groping (in our group) and got punched for his trouble. He got such (friendly-ish) abuse this morning that I nearly felt sorry for him. And since there was a Scot in our company, we ended up in an 80′s karoke bar.

Apart from octupus ollie, the men were well behaved!!

I spent the evening in conversation with a very nice woman. It’s not often you meet someone who likes the same music (808 State anyone?), who likes travelling, who prefers Germany to Italy (just like me). I am very happy. I wish I could be more expressive than that because ‘I am very happy’ doesn’t do the evening justice. I think British women are much more sociable than Irish women. They’re not lunatics for a start, I’ve deleted the rest of this paragraph.

I know I bang on about karma but

– what was the ‘special’ on the radio on the drive back to Dublin this evening? A two-hour special of ’80′s/Manchester music. Lots of the Happy Mondays, The Inspirals, James, and the list goes on. Bliss.
– And even better, when I got home, Tom Waits’ Orphans CD was waiting in my postbox for me!!
– And I’ve a couple of days off work as well.

That’s karma for ya, what goes around comes around. If I’m good to someone, that goodness comes back to me in spades.

I went for a pint after work (on my own) so I could tweak it to perfection. And it worked (creative juices etc!). I asked the (Chinese) barman if he’d ever lied on a job application and, after an-ever-so-slight pause, he looked at me like I was mad and pretended not to understand me. He might be an illegal immigrant (ahem, ‘student‘) but good luck to him. [I genuinely think immigration is good for Ireland]. The Chinese community are strong believers in ‘good luck’, ‘fortuitous portents’; hell, even Chinese fortune cookies. I’m hoping the karma rules apply and a bit of his good luck rubs off on me.

Here’s the lyrics of my favourite song…for today anyway. It’s called Live with Me by Massive Attack (Feat. Terry Caller).

It don’t matter, when you turn
Gonna survive, live and learn.
I’ve been thinking about you baby
By the light of dawn, and in my blues
Day and night, I been missing you

I’ve been thinking about you baby,
Almost makes me crazy,
Come and live with me

Either way, win or lose,
When you’re born into trouble you live the blues

I’ve been thinking about you baby

See it almost makes me crazy child

Nothing’s right if you ain’t here
I’d give all that I have just to, keep you near
I wrote you a letter and tried to make it clear
That you just don’t believe that, I’m sincere.

I’ve been thinking about you baby…

Plans and schemes, hopes and fears
Dreams i’ve denied for all these years

I’ve been thinking about you babe,
living with me, well…..
I’ve been thinking about you baby,
makes me wanna…child

Nothing’s right, if you ain’t here
I give all that I have just to keep you near
I wrote you a letter darlin’, trying to make it clear
How much you just don’t believe that I’m sincere.
Thinking about you baby, I want you near me

Live with me? She won’t even talk to me!!

Seriously though, it’s a fantastic song and well worth the 99c it cost me on iTunes!

A bit of a Freudian moment as…shurely shome misthake!…the two are connected?

If you’ve being affected by this post, please phone 123-456789.
Or alternatively, take a chill pill as normal service will resume tomorrow.

Yesterday, I wrote that the Bank Holiday weekend is fast approaching and all I have to look forward to is ironing and more ironing. I’ve been in a funny mood the past few days and, if I had to pick an adjective to describe my mood, I guess I’m pensive. If I was any good at grammar, that sentence might read, I’ve been in a funny mood the past few days…I guess I’m pension! (tense, tension as an example)

It’s not like I attend film premieres every weekend but I usually have something planned, even if it’s as mundane as a visit to my mother. But this weekend, I’ve nothing planned. I’ve nothing to do and it feels odd not having anything scheduled. My little dictionary defines pensive as ‘thoughtful with sadness; wistful‘. I definitely don’t feel sad: in fact, I’m looking forward to the uncertainty. I know I bang on about karma but I can’t help feeling that ‘something’ exciting might happen this weekend.

What that something is, I just don’t know. Will a female isadub make a debut? I’ve written before about how I need to learn to ‘let go’, to let the heart over-rule the logical mind.

Wishful sounds so much like wistful, don’t you think?

Anyway, just back from dinner in Banana Chilli in Drumcondra. It was a business dinner, I guess, with clients. All in all, it wasn’t too bad and I would recommend it to others. Just bring your credit card! It’s not cheap for where it is and the dessert menu was a laminated menu that offers those flash-frozen desserts which are seen far too often in restaurants these days.

Apart from the conversation, more anon, the most memorable thing about the evening was the waitress. I’m guessing she was Korean and I’ve never anyone so smiley-happy with their lot in life. She constantly had a smile on her face and she giggled a lot. The giggling combined with her accent made her impossible to understand but she was delightful. We slagged her a little bit about her delirium and she replied, with all seriousness, that she couldn’t possibly do anything ‘bad’ to customers. I’d definitely go back just to be served by her. She made everyone smile altough we did think it would be hard to live with yourself if you were that happy all the time. Imagine waking up on a deary wet November morning and giggling your way through the rain to the bus stop. Madness, for sure, lies that way.

One of my guests was visiting from the UK. Before her departure, her husband insisted she try the Oirish Guinness so she did, ever so reluctantly. She polished off her ‘alf with aplomb so I don’t think she was that reluctant after all. She was a hoot because, even though she was Welsh, she really had the ‘little Englander’ thing down to a tee. She marvelled at how Irish houses were that same as in the UK. I explained about similar cultures, similar climates and so on, but every time we turned a corner in the car, the fascination returned. Maybe she holidays in Butlins or something, but it was a weird experience for me.

My clients want me to buy their company but they’re too shy or too amateur to say so directly. So I get love-bombed every time we meet. They also try to head-hunt me every 6 months. This week, they’re going to set me up with a woman (I’m single, btw). Sadly, all they could think of was a single mother with a one-year old baby in Limerick. On reflection, I guess the advantage is getting the family unit without the nappies. Don’t choke on your cornflakes – I’m only joking!

Dinner was about €170 for the five of us. This included, ahem, some beer and wine at about €5 each. You could justify paying that in town but Drumcondra? There’s 3 or 4 restuarants, plus a gastro-pub, in a row beside it and I’m pretty sure they’re not as expensive. Having said that, Banana Chilli don’t do 2 sittings a night so we didn’t have to rush dinner.

I can see clearly now the rain is gone, well
I can see all obstacles in my way, yeah
Gone have the dark clouds that used to make me blind
It’s gonna be a bright, (bright) bright, (bright) sun shiny day
Oh I can see a bright, (bright) oh a little bright, now (bright) sun shiny day

That song made me think of a favourite movie of mine from way back. And that movie made me think of a French woman I know. Would she have seen that French film (one of my favs) from the mid-80′s that starred that french guy with bleached blonde hair? Think I was 14-years old at the time. I couldn’t remember the name of the movie right then but it was set in the Paris metro and, sitting in the car, I remembered the sooo cool actors and sooo cool music and sooo cool alternative livestyle. I couldn’t remember the film or the male actor’s name. But the female lead was Isabelle Adjani… and I wasn’t going to forget her! Rather embarassingly, I remembered he’d starred in a film called ‘Fortress’, though I’ve never seen it. Honest!

Once home, a quick search on google turned up…

The film was Subway while the actor was Christopher Lambert. One thing I hadn’t known at the time was that Luc Besson was the director. And he’s directed or produced lots of my favourite films over the years. Movies like The Big Blue (major fav), Nikita, Leon and Fifth Element are brilliant. I even liked The Transporter (I and 2)!

It’s funny how the mind works.
Twenty years ago, I was failing French at school, watching French movies after school and thinking lewd thoughts about French women. Twenty years later, I still can’t speak French but I am still watching French movies and thinking about French women!!

Besson even wrote an early screenplay for the American movie, Taxi, starring Queen Latifah and Jimmy Fallon. I’ve seen the trailer and it’s movie trash but I think it would be a good movie for a Wednesday night when football is the only thing on TV. Here’s the plot summary:

Belle Williams (Queen Latifah)is a speed demon. Flying through the streets of New York in her tricked-out taxi, she’s earned a rep as New York’s fastest cabbie. But driving a hack is only a pit stop for her real dream: Belle wants to be a race car champion. And she’s well on her way–until she’s derailed by overeager cop Andy Washburn (Jimmy Fallon), whose undercover skills are matched only by his total ineptitude behind the wheel. Washburn, whose lack of vehicular skills has landed him in the precinct doghouse, is hot on the heels of a gang of beautiful Brazilian bank robbers, led by Vanessa, their cold, calculating–and leggy–leader. To nab the evasive crooks, drivers license-less Washburn convinces Belle to team up with him to pursue Vanessa and crew. Belle has carte blanche to drive at any speed and break any law. The car-less cop and speed-demon cabbie–New York’s unlikeliest partners– begin a high-speed game of cat and mouse with the robbers. That is, if Belle and Washburn don’t end up killing each other first.

Random funny filler to end…
I was channel-hopping on the telly and hovered briefly at a re-run of Friends. I never really liked it but the writing was very sharp…

Phebs: I’m think of getting a new job. Could you see me working a benchdrill?
Joey: I dunno, what are you wearing?