Work related madness.

Be back May 4th.

Motivation for fatcats and possibly fatcat chumlies.

Sunday, 12k on the rowing machine, one hour. Not exactly pleasant but a great workout in and of itself.

Dead lifts 40k x 6 x2, I used to lift heavier than this, but my form was bad and I was rounding my shoulders. Now, with the new and improved form I actually find the weight harder, but less risk of doing something stupid and therefore painful. Thanks to Matt for the instruction.
Benchpress, 22k x8 x 3

Finished off session with a short sharp three k run at a relatively quick clip on the treadmill.

Monday- nowt, work.

Tuesday- 10k-fairly flat route.

Wednesday- 20k bike,
chest press, on the machine, 15k x 8x 3. I am surprisingly weak at this. Not sure why but this must be why I am crap at press ups too. I'll have to work on it.
Bicep pulldowns, 30k x8, 35k x8, 40k x 8, awesome. That 40 didn't kill me entirely.

Thursday-12k run, hilly run, managed to get lost in Firhouse. I am an idiot.

Friday- I met the Spaniard for lunch. So no, unless drinking cocktails can be considered a sport of some kind.

Today I'm working most of the day, but I'll be in the gym bright and breezy tomorrow morning, running 800m splits.
How's everyone else doing? Is it spring where you live yet?
Ask me can I do a handstand, go on, ask me.

Man girdles

Sick of unsightly love handles? tired of resting your pint on your man belly? Tired of your fellow team mates questioning whether or not your sports shirts are 'smaller' than last year?
Then fear not men-chumlies. The new man girdle will see you straight, very straight indeed.
word of warning, if you get lucky with some lady, remember, get undressed in the john and dance back into the room. She might be slightly shocked by the naked dancing, but believe me, it will be less than the shock suffered seeing you unwind yourself from this baby.

Happy Ginger Day!

Ladies and gentlemen, we here at the fatcat emporium would like to welcome back, the one, the ONLY Mizzzzzzzz Amanda leeeeeeeeepore, hola !take it away princessa.

Claps

Lights go down.

one -soft focus- spot light hits centre stage.

'Here I stand
in sequins
with a wavy hand
ooooo you can laugh
but you know that it is all
an act.
Going home,
You just cant make it
all alone,
I really want to
sing to you,
Sing to you,
Siiiiing to youuu
Sinnng to yooou.

' Gingerday,
When the week is long,
and you can't go on
Gingerday,
When your boss is mean
And you're not keen
it's hard to bear
When no one around you
has got ginger haaaair.
Ginger day
No blondie mops
just carrot tops
Gingerday
Let your russet flow
and your freckles glow
oooh it's hard to bear
When no one around you
has got ginger hair

Do do, do do di ahhhhhhhhhhh'

Does electrifying shimmy, rolls across glittered piano, kicks one leg into air.


'Ginger day
come rain or shine
it's party time, on
Gingerday,
Get you glad rags on
and sing this song,
Gingerday,
Oooh it's hard to bear
if no one around
has got ginger ahir.
waaaawaaaaaaaaaaaaaooooh.
Gingerday!'

Does splits. Winks. Licks lips wetly.



Sung to tune of 'Tragedy.' Falsetto appreciated.

It's life Jim, but not as we know it.

Actual conversation with Etheline, regarding the perils of breakfast. Keep in mind we are grown women.

E-'...and I can't stand all that sugary crap. Who wants a sugar high at half nine in the morning? Huh No wonder half those bitches are so cranky.'

FC-'Why don't you just eat a banana? Slow release energy, not too filling.'

E- ' Oh no, I can't eat banana in the morning.'

FC- 'Why?'

E- I just can't, not before 11.'

FC- 'But you can eat them after 11?'

E- 'After? Sure.'

FC, 'So at 10:55 you can't eat a banana, but at 11:05 you can?'

E- 'Right.'

FC- 'How does that work?'

E- 'I don't know, I just can't swallow banana before 11. It won't go down.'

FC- What if you started chewing the banana at one minute before, then swallowed it bang on 11?"

E- 'Wouldn't work, my throat would know.'

FC-'Your throat would know it was pre-11 banana?'

E- 'Right.'

FC- 'What happens when the clocks go back or forward? Does that rule still stand?'

E- 'I don't know. It just responds to the actual time.'

FC- 'Your ability to swallow a mushy fruit is time locked?'

E- 'YES. Jesus, don't keep going on about it. I'm sure there are loads of people like that.'

FC-'I'm pretty sure there aren't.'

E-' Oh come on, you wouldn't eat steak before 11 in the morning.'

FC-'I wouldn't, but I COULD.'

E- 'Well congratulations, you must be so proud. I just can't eat banana before 11. Have you tried those bagels from Superquinn? I think they're too salty, but...'

Water.

First the figures.
Dubliln City Council spent €17,344 last year and bottled water and €22,909 the year before that.
The dept. of Communications, Energy and natural Resources headed by green party minister Eamon Ryan spent €17,768 in '06 and €16,286 in '07 on bottled water.
Sales of bottled water in Ireland are up 6% since January and last year Irish consumers bought 135m bottles of water.
The rental and maintenance of water coolers and bottled water in the Department of the Environment tots up €41,160 in '06 and €41,419 in '07.
All of this despite claims that what flows from our taps in perfectly okay to drink.
According to Oisin Coghlan for Friends of the Earth, 'It's remarkable that we've fallen for the myth of pure spring bottled water when what comes out of the tap is just as good and costs a fraction of the price.'
Yeah, except it tastes like shit.
The article I'm quoating appeared in the Sunday Times and along with the figures was this statement 'blind taste by Decanter magazine found that few people could distinguish between tap water and brands such as Evian, Perrier and Volvic.'
I don't know how true that is but I can certainly taste the difference between tap and bottled water. I might not be able to taste the difference between bottled waters themselves, with the exception of San Pellegrino, but between tap and bottle? Absolutely.
Tap water tastes metallic to me with an earthy almost clay like undertone. I don't like it. I hardly ever drink the stuff unless it's in coffee or tea. But I drink gallons of bottled water. I buy 2 litre bottles from Superquinn at 59p a pop. Hardly going to break the bank. And it tastes the way I think water should taste, of sort of nothing.
My mother's home has a spring which she uses for water. That tastes better than Dublin water, but still slightly metallic, and another gal I know with a house in Wexford has water so foul from her taps I wouldn't give it to a dog, although she also insists it's perfectly fine.
Bleaugh.
JOhn Gormley can say what he likes, so too can Oisin Coghlan, the truth is tap water is not as nice as bottled water, nor can you lug a tap around with you when you're out on a run. If people want to spend their money on a product they find acceptable let them. The 'quality of Irish water' might very well be good, but as Galway discovered last year, it's not exactly trust worthy.
I'll be sticking to my bottled water, I like it. It doesn't taste of metal.

New drinking laws.

Well, the Nanny has spoken.
Tescos are going to have to start building. Seriously what tosh. Why don't they implement the blasted laws they already have in place before they start adding more to them. And why should an off-license have to close at 10? Why can't I buy a bottle of wine at 10:30? Who does this benefit?

Fucking with my ability to buy alcohol, I am AGAINST that!

Microchip your pets.

It must be heart breaking to lose a pet, it must be further heartbreaking to hear a much love pet has been destroyed but this is a prime and perfect example of why it is safer and more logical to microchip your animals. Collars get lost or snagged, or removed in some cases. If this couple has microchipped their dog the pound could have scanned their animal the moment it came in.

The Birds.

It must be that time of year again for I have noticed a distinct flurry of activity in the garden. The younger magpies have been very busy building a rather large untidy nest on the opposite side of the garden from the blackbirds. This current arrangement seems to suit no one. The resident magpies who own the roof and are nesting in next door's firs are outraged by the close proximity. And they're not the only ones. Certainly the new Mrs Blackbird has been most vocal about it (she's a bit of a hussy the new one, bigger than last year's model and more bossy. I doubt she is braver though, having witnessed last years Mrs Blackbird diving bombing the Marklar in a valiant but fruitless effort to protect her chick, poor old thing, I think she was next for the high jump too, the Marklar is stupid but an efficient killer)
I don't know a whole lot about birds, but it had been my very great pleasure to get to know some of the motley crew that inhabit my garden. My desk faces the window see, and I gaze over the top of my computer and slip into the avian soap-opera on a regular basis.
My garden is surrounded by thick hedges and mature trees, which seems to suit the birds very much. I feed them all year around, taking great are to toss their food in the very centre of the lawn, lest a bored cat might be lying in wait under the foliage.
There's quite a collection of them these days. I have the black birds, magpies, the starlings, finches, wood pigeons and a very small but highly aggressive robin. I'm also under the flight path of a grey and black heron who cruises by daily on his way to the Dodder and who landed on the roof on the shed the other week causing absolute UPROAR with the magpies who saw him off with all the ferocity of a pack of dogs.
The magpies are funny, loud rambinctious little thugs. They think they own the place. They take the food out of the garden and store it in the gutter of next door's greehouse. They've actually become quite tame over the year and gawk in at me as I work. Sometimes they even land as I'm putting out the bread.

My favourite bird is The God Pigeon. He calls in every afternoon about two, landing with a thump, ready to stuff his belly with brown bread-he forgos white. He's a chunky grey and white bird with a distinct limp. Sometimes he comes with a pal, but mostly alone. He'll stroll along the perimeter of the lawn first, peering intently under the bushes before taking his place at the banquet. He's smart that one, and had more than one encounter with the Bigger of the Cats. I do worry about him though. It take him a it of a while to get airborne and one of these days he's going to come a cropper.

The blackbirds are always at war with the magpies, but this year is more peaceful than the last, possibly because the magpies have their own bigger problems.
I am rarely bothered by crows, you get the occasional few here and there, but really they don't make much of an impression. However in the last few weeks two of the grey and black variety have shown up late morning. These birds are large with huge beaks and an ugly disposition. They seem fearless and strut around like bully boys. The magpies take them on- indeed I'm starting to think of the magpies as the jack russells of the bird world- but the crows always come back.
The robin lives right outside my window in a think briar filled blackberry bush with his super shy missus. I don't know if she lives there all year or not, but he does. He lands every day on the back of a wrought iron chair and surveys his kingdom. He's tini-tiny not much bigger than a golf ball really, but he sings and sings and he is a ferocious defender of his patch. I call him Napoleon.
I'm hoping this years crop of babies escape the attentions of the cats. The cats are locked in every night and early morning when the birds are settling and rising, which helps I suppose. But there's always going to be a risk, especially when the young start to learn how to fly.
As I type right this second the robin has bounced out onto a thick briar strand, he is fluffing himself up for some grand aria or other.
Oh Napolean, what a voice you have. You're like a little Joe Dolan.

A question of Integrity.

Integrity: the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles: moral uprightness. : he is know to be a man of great integrity.

Rapist- man who commits rape.

What in the name of good judgement made Labour TD Kathleen Lynch and former Lord Mayor of Cork, John Murray write letters of support for convicted rapist Trevor Casey .
I see this morning Kathleen Lynch has apologised for her letter, claiming she did not personally know Casey, but that when his mother approached her asking her for the letter, she felt obliged to provide it.
If she did not know the man in question she had no right supporting him in a case of rape and sexual assault of two minors. For that matter his mother ought to be hanging her head in same too.
What Trevor Casey did was abhorrent. He raped and sexually assaulted two young girls, threatened them and then put them through the additional horror of a court case. People of influence have no business discussing his 'stock' or pleading to the courts for leniency.
I'm glad Lynch apologised for her actions. She has proven at least she understands the word integrity. I wonder will John Murray do the same.

Motivation for Fatcats and possibly for chumlies of Fatcats!

I've been sick most of this weeks so the training- apart from some 400m splits earlier in the week ( running an average 1:44 per burst)- I've done bugger all. I did manage to put in a nice solid 5 miler this morning which considering the state of me was most impressive.*
However Aisling, lovely person,and bona fide member of Satdee's group has returned from running a marathon Rotterdam. And get this, she ran a sub three hour marathon. Her timing chip recorded 2 hours 59 mins and 58 seconds! That is very very bloody fast indeed. I am in awe. Awe I tell you.
And also I want to mention Lou who ran a whopper of a Marathon in cold cold Paris the other weekend. Whopping ass at 4 :40. Very nice, I'll be chasing that one come October.
Congratulations also to Finn for qualifying for World in August. She can fly, and she'll surely rock it.
John Mc's up next with a d-day of May 4th. With the amount of training he has put in I'm sure he's going to be brilliant. I can't wait to read all about it.
I've got to go have a shower now and head out, but can I just say I heart this little Saturday post. We are out there doing good work, training and getting faster, stronger and better and trying our damn hardest to stay fit and keep body and mind together. Be it hauling our arses out of bed early to work out, or braving the cold/heat, or going to the gym and pool on the days we least can be bothered, we still do it. I love reading the comments on this post most. I love the personal triumphs, like Grims extending her distances and doing it with style. It's nice to have a group to bounce off. It's nicer still to have nice group off.
Well done folks.




* shakes fist at a French Gay.

Happy Ginger Day!

Well hi there, chums is it? Hi. My name is Lenord but y'all can call me Lenny. I've been asked to come along and celebrate this here Ginger Day with y'all. I 'splained I wasn't no Ginger and frankly, I don't truck with no gingers neither, seeing as how they are all clearly devil spawn and probably left handed to boot, but dang, that fatcat critter 'splained to me that I owed her one. I axed, 'how'd ye figure?' And she laughed, then coughed, then laughed and then showed me an embarrassing picture of me when I was in my cups.
Now I'm not one to get easily embarrassed. I believe in my god given body, I believe in my masculinity, it's right there ain't it? Not like I can cover it up now, is it? I mean, look at me. Am I not a speci-men of manliness? But that darned cat lovin' freak, shoot, she sure is plain evil and when she turns the screw on a body that's it. It's not like I knew there was a camera there that night.
I'spect her of all manner of things, first she don't believe in God. Now, that right there proves she's evil. People who don't believe in God ain't got no business being here in my view. Not enjoying the same freedoms we fought for. Second, I believe she's some kind of pinko lib-ral. I know she got friends that are swish, and I know she don't believe in keeping damned freeloaders out of the country.
But that's all right, I ain't gonna get bothered none about that today. Today's Friday, sorry GingerDay, and that means the weekend is upon us. And God willin', that means me and a few of the boys are gonna head up into the mountains with some kegs and some semi-automatic weapons and some make up- not swish make up- camouflage, and we're gonna train real hard. Fuck yeah, we're gonna train so that we're ready when that day comes and we're called upon to protect our hard won liberties, and no one's gonna make me cover up, and they can prise my last keg from my cold dead hand. Which might be the case if Billy-Lou don't get the optical range finder fixed on his rifle. Dang that was close, but for my lightening fast reflexes I was almost a goner. Still haven't quite worked out how Billy-Lou mistook me for a bear.
Alls I'm saying is you lot can keep your Gingerday. I'm gonna be out there mano-a mano with nature the wind flowing through my hair, wearing nothing more than a cup and make-up and you lot can keep your purdy noses out of the woods. We don't require no swish lib-rals. No sir, we're a group of men, nekked, hard core men, who like to take photos of each other in their god given underwear, surrounded by civil guns. There's nothing hinky 'bout spending two days in the woods, nekkid as jaybirds and sweaty and learning how to grapple and sleeping in a bivouac, it help us get back to nature, it helps us get back to when men was men and uppity bitches and lib-rals kept the hell off our business.
Well, I'm not gonna get upset here. Happy GingerDay you pinko commie freaks. And remember, Jesus loves you. I don't, I hate each and everyone of you, but he do. And he the Man.

barkeeeeeeeng

Sweet imaginary unicorns, did I ever mention how much I ABSOLUTELY love French Bulldogs?
From Cuteoverload

Books, Boundless Pleasure for the Sickly Home Worker.

Good morning, nope, afternoon. Gusty sort of day ain't it?
I hope none of you feel as decidedly ropey as I do. I've been fighting/ignoring the beginnings of a cold for a few days now, but some time in the early hours of this morning it ambushed me and today it has me in it's germy grasp.
It's only a cold. Not flu or anything nearly as dramatic as that, just a common garden variety cold (ever notice how many people like to claim they have flu when quite clearly they have no such thing? I had flu once in my life, Gamma and I came down with it and sweet holy marmalade was it vile. Shivering, roasting, freezing, vomiting, aching limbs, coma lie sweaty sleeps, more vomiting. VIle thing, it knocked us for six. I've never had it since, but I'll never forget it either)
Because I work from home I am lucky enough to not have to deal with an overlord, or boss as some folk like to call them, this means I can be a bit poorly, stay in jammies and faff around at my sickly leisure. Sort of. Conversely because I work for myself I don't get sick pay, so nine times out of then the self employed sick person will haul their feverish ass out of bed and attend to some work, dribbling snot and whooshing over cups of tea, blearily jabbing the keyboard and pondering aloud to a disinterested Puddy whether or not they ought to go back to bed.
So I have decided to split my time so as to lesson my guilt. I will work until 5 and then I will sally forth and crack the spine of the new Wambaugh I've been waiting to dive into.
Which leads me dribblingly into my point.
The Telegraph has released a list of 110 best book needed to create a library. And I was pleasantly surprised to discover between me and the Paramour we own quite a good number of them. We fall down a bit in History, Poetry and Books that changed the World. but then I feel the list is somewhat lacking too. In the Name of the Rose is curiously missing, Lewis Carroll is absent from children's books, what about To Kill a Mocking Bird. Or Of Mice and Men? Catch 22 should be there too in my view. But then lists are subjective, still it's entertaining to read. And the comments are very funny, people get very bent out of shape over books.
Have a gander and see do you agree or agree with the entries.
What five books do you feel are the absolute cornerstone of a good modern library? (Also, am I the only one who gets bored rigid reading Hemingway?)

Babies, birth and cigars.

Oh the Daily Mail, how you doth make me laugh, swear and cause my blood pressure to rise up from the sluggish deep like a wayward cephalopod. Honestly, without you I doubt I'd be able to function before nine am. You're like a shot of adrenaline, a double expresso from Barcelona, a quick snort of columbian marching powder. Yep, the indo used to rile me up, but these days only the Sindo makes by eyebrows flutter, but oh Daily Mail, nothing will ever surpass the deep loathing I reserve for you.
Today's rancid witterings is all about the babies, or rather the birth of said babies, and how ladies, wan faint creatures of delicate sensibilities that we are, ought to be left in peace while they deliver their bee bees, sorry babies- preferable at home, sans drugs and with maybe an aunt or two to help, and how the proud fathers ought to be out playing golf and sharing cigars, perhaps downing peaty whiskey to drown the bee bees newly crowned head.

Poor put upon 'top obstetrician' Mike Odent' has been struggling under the PC yoke of suppression for eons, but HUZZAH! finally through the power of the Mail he can cast his view upon the waters of life. And what are they I hear you ask?
Why this...' For many years, I have not been able to speak openly about my views that the presence of a father in a delivery room is not only unnecessary, but also hinders labour.'

Hear that selfish bitch sisters? You have made Mike feel oppressed. Now get this. Women giving birth is women's work and men are nothing more than a hinderance. Women don't give birth in a gentle pleasing manner if their partners are there, faffin about and getting in the way. And partners suffer so when forced to attend, poor lambs. Right? Got it?
Whaddya mean you require proof that those clumsy men are nought but a pesky pain? Bitch please. Because Mike god damned well said so. And if you persist with this shit you're gonna wind up in the poor house with no mans, you heard me, no mans.
Avast.
"As for the effect on a man - well, was I surprised to hear a friend of mine state that watching his wife giving birth had started a chain of events that led to the couple's divorce?"

You fucking selfish hussies! Well? Was Mike surprised? Well? You can bet your ass he wasn't. See See what you're doing? Expecting the father of your unborn child to be at the birth leads to DIVORCE! And what then? Huh huh?

Oh, you don't believe it? You still think some daddies might like to be present to welcome their child into the world. PHOOEY! Be prepared for the next ZINGER.

Doctor Odent recalls ...'another lady describing how the day after her husband had watched her deliver their child, he had fled to his hometown of Rome, and never returned again?

For many men, the emotional fallout of watching their partner have their baby can never be overcome."

See? See what you wymmin have wrought? With your rights and your 'liberation' and your out and out bitch selfishness. DO you want your husband to go to ROME? Is that it? Want them to take to their beds? How could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? I mean I know you're going through childbirth and it's painful and all that nonsense- most of which I have tuned out by the way and now I"m doing 'wah-wah' signs with my hand- but what about him? ROME! You PC bitches better remember that.
And you men, what the hell is is with you lot? Like pink do ya? Why aren't you downstairs boiling water and pacing helplessly when your partner goes into labour? What are you, sissies? Don't you know your women need time to gaze at the beebee? To smell the bee bee? What the fuck are you bothering her for? Why are you thinking you'd like to bond with your own child? Snap out of it! Why aren't you off killing something or at the very least down the pub? You're the reason pubs are struggling, selfish toads.
What do you mean you want to be part of the experience? What the hell do you mean you might actually want to be there at the birth of your child? Are you mad. Didn't I already explain about the hinderance factor?
Wymmin and Nancy boys, the lorra yer.

Defending Madonna

Julie Burchill, I blame you for this.
Oh this sucks. Sucks I tell you. Here I am, catching up on the weekend papers, scoffing a 'medley of fruit' when I came across the following load of hooey.

"Three things, it's safe to say, will always be with us: the poor, taxes and Madonna. And the weather. Like the weather, Madonna is everywhere, reigning over the just and the unjust, friend and foe alike; loving her or hating her is as futile as loving or hating the rain, wind or snow - it'll happen anyway. Turning 50 as she does in a few months, the question is perhaps worth asking: what did we do to deserve this? It's been a quarter of a century of cruel and unusual punishments - peaking in the sustained, sadistic, hate-filled frenzy that was Swept Away - so far. Surely we're going to get some time off for good behaviour soon?"

Yep that's how it starts, three things that are four and then a sustained whine about Madonna.
But that's not what bothers me, oh no. People can whine about what they like. What bothers me is that Julie Burchill had driven me to DEFENDING Madonna. I never thought I'd EVER be driven to that.
The rest of the article is here. read it if you can be arsed.
No don't. Don't bother. I'll pare it down for you.
Madonna is old.
Madonna is not fat.
Madonna once released a book called Sex.
Julie isn't a big fan of the book.
Madonna cannot sing or dance.
Julie Burchill is fat
But if she wasn't she'd be fabulous.
Madonna is driven
Madonna is NOT Amy Winehouse.
Madonna is a touch narcissistic.
Madonna is successful
Julie Buchill is less successful.
But that's okay, because Julie Burchill is not Madonna.

Dear Julie Burchill, Comparing Madonna to Any Winehouse is ridiculous. Okay Madonna might not be the best singer or the best dancer, but you know what? I'd pay to see her ANY day over the stumbling mumbling smack head who by the way CANNOT sing live to save her life. Talent she may have, but talent is rarely enough.
Madonna is a performer. A consummate performer it has to be said. She took her 'grade A, ocean-going natural mediocrities' and turned them into a successful career spanning many decades. Four minutes is top of the charts. She's still here. She's still at the top of her game. Fuck me, it that doesn't deserve a little respect I don't what does.
You on the other hand Julie, not so much.
Like her or loathe her, Madonna is a force to be reckoned with. I admire longevity, I admire her will power. I admire her clean living lifestyle, I like the fact that she can manipulate her own image, I admire the fact that she is still yanking chains, I admire her determination and dedication. I admire her god damn fifty year old body. Single minded and possibly unfunny she may be, but nobody is perfect, right Julie?
Defending Madonna, I find myself not against it. Not that she gives a shit either way, but then I like that too.

A question of sense.

Sometimes you just have to question what makes folk tick. Then you find yourself questioning what makes them think letting someone photo them while they're ticking is a good idea. Then you find yourself trying NOT to think about ticking.
Yes. That seems to be best.
Kisses to Michael.

Motivation for fatcats and possibly for fatcat chumlies.

Another glorious Saturday is here! I say glorious, but this being Ireland the weather could change any second, so I"m just going to run with the glory part. A choppy sort of week for me, due in no small part to having too much work to do and not enough hours in the day to do it all. Of course that's really no excuse, and seeing it here on a Saturday really brings home how easy it is NOT to do much during the week. Naturally this will probably be the week y'all have done sterling work, and I'll feel even worse from my crummy efforts.


Monday, recovery from Great run

Tuesday-work, no really.

Wednesday- Guilt over my laziness kicked in.
20k cycle,
40 Pull ups- grav 20kilo counter balance, (nearly nearly)
15k 10x3 rows, ye-ouch.
squat press, using 8 kilo dumbells, 10 reps in sets of 3, really tiring I find, but a good over all workout. It's from cross fit and it knocks the socks off a body.

Thursday- CG is away so I am walking his dog for him, we wandered a couple of miles down the Dodder where once again he tried to kill himself by drowning.

Friday- reluctant to risk another drowning I decided to test a theory I have about CG's dog. I mapped out a 15 k route and collected him.
To facilitate this I needed to let him run off a bit of steam first. So I took him to Sundrive to let him gallop about before I stuck him on the lead for the run. While doing a lap of Sundrive Park I got wanked at, by a chap who ran the length of the pitches just so he could get himself good and ready before I reached him. Yack.
Unperturbed by naked willies and grinning wankers, I clipped the dog and off we set. !5 Kilometres later and still he showed no real signs of flagging, although his tongue hung out to the side and he was thirsty. This is a dog who really likes to run. He has an easy gait which is perfect for covering long distance and a barrel-shaped chest for massive lung capacity. I was bloody knackered. He was happy. I'll take him to the Phoenix Park in a few weeks and try a twenty K on him, but I imagine that won't phase him in the slightest either.
My plan today is to hit the gym for a weights session. The Spaniard has suggested I meet her for a cocktail. That too sounds like a good plan. I'll definitely do one of them.

Teenage Violence is costly

Update on the vicious assault of that poor girl. It looks bad for those screeching thugs.

Happy Ginger-day!

Oh I had a photo, I did I swear, there was ginger and everything, but then I saw this and after I almost fainted with glee and after I almost deafened The Bigger of the Cats with EEEEEE I could NOT resist sharing. Do you seeeee eeees leeetle feets? Do you? And eeees PINK belleeeeee. OH Puggy, how I would blow on your belly. I would feed you tini-tiny pieces of cheese and take you everywhere. And do you seeeeee how he's in my most favourite pieces of furniture??? I mean it's a sign isn't it? Clearly the fates are saying, 'Fatmammycat, look, we think you should get a pug and then once you have a pug you need to get yourself a french bulldog to keep the pug company.'
Oh it's all so freaking clear to me now.
Universe 1, paramour 0

Scumbags with nothing but pack mentality.

Disturbing

The above link contain on one of the most disturbing things I have ever had the misfortune to watch. What the hell is wrong with this pack of screaming bitches?
If someone did that to my daughter I would be beyond furious. I doubt I would even have the containment needed not to go and find each and every one of them and deliver to them the most unholiest of smack downs.
If that was my daughter crying and trying to get away like that, I swear, on Puddy,on toast and marmalade, I would personally make it my business to repay each and every blow she received ten fold. I like to think I would be above acting that way, but I know I would not.

Parental Responsibility to anti-social behaviour.

Good morning. I'm up to my eye this morning but something on the Brenda Power show-oh why do I listen- caught my attention. Though it is a different story it relates to some of the view made in the comments section of yesterday's post about our anti-social society.
A woman was on discussing the carry on of teenagers on her estate, decrying the behaviour of young boys and girls as they drink and take drugs and drive stolen cars and generally behave in a very anti-social way. This lady was quite calm, resigned almost, but she made the point that should anyone approach the parents of these children in the majority of the cases the parents will deny their children's involvement. Indeed they could be quite aggressive of hearing about their children's antics. Thus, shielded and protected, unchecked and unfettered, the anti-social carry-on continues.
But recently a judge here in Ireland handed out an order to the father of a delinquent, a young boy who thieved on a regular basis. This man was a member of the Roma Community and the boy in question had been arrested many many times. Fed up, the judge finally ordered that should the boy be arrested again it would be the father who went to jail in his stead.
It this the way forward? Will this make a dent in anti-social behaviour? If feral kids don't give a damn about society or neighbours, perhaps seeing their mam or dad being carted off might make them mend their ways. Perhaps being faced with jail time will FORCE parents to care where their children are and what they get up to.
Or is this a step too far? Is it shifting the blame? Can parents of teenagers BE held accountable for their child's actions?
I'm curious. What do we think?

Shannon Matthews, alive well and never kidnapped.

There can be hardly any more pitiful sight than that of a distraught parent pleading for the return of a missing child. I was in the gym when I saw 32 year old Karen Matthews on the news for the first time, I remember seeing the photo of Shannon her missing nine year old daughter and thinking 'poor little thing'.
Dammit I defended Karen Matthews at one point saying that just because she was less photogenic and less well spoken than the McCanns didn't make her ordeal less painful.
Guess I was wrong.
For almost a month Shannon remained vanished, whole her mother and her step father whipped up a public storm, getting t-shirts printed up and giving interviews. CCTV footage of poor Shannon leaving her swimming class were released, more photos of a shy chubby faced young girl were flashed across the screen.
Police found Shannon on March 14, hidden in the base of a divan bed at the maisonette home of computer programmer Donovan in Batley Carr, a mile from her home. Donovan is the uncle of Karen Matthews 22 year old partner Craig Meehan. Karen dumped Meehan last week after he was charged with 11 child porn offences unconnected to Shannon.
It now transpires that Matthews was planning to leave Meehan all along and move in with Donavan, that Donavan had probably picked Shannon up on the day of her disappearance and that Karen Matthews, the sobbing distraught mother, had known where Shannon was all along, from day one.

"But detectives are ALSO probing claims that associates of the Matthews family tried to extract money from the Maddie McCann fund – and the possibility of a kidnap plan based on an episode of Channel 4 show Shameless."

Donovan, a computer programmer, is on remand awaiting trial accused of kidnapping Shannon and holding her against her will at his flat.

Due to face a court in November, he is on suicide watch in prison after trying to kill himself.

Last Friday, Amanda Hyett, 25, and her mother, Alice Meehan, 49, were also arrested. Mrs Hyett was held on suspicion of assisting Donovan.

It's unreal. What a family. How on earth did Karen Matthews think she could get away with this? SHe's saying now that she wanted to leave Meehan and that on the day Shannon 'vanished' she had packed clothes but chickened out at the last minutes. This was all about her, her wants, her needs, her life.
What sort of woman put her friends neighbours and family through the hellish anguish of thinking a chid was abducted and possibly murdered. How could she get up day after day and hand out t-shirts with her daughter's face printed on it to people offering help and solace. How could she get in front of television cameras and sob and makes emotional appeals knowing what she knew? What kind of person does that?
In any event this shameless harridan has destroyed not just her life but of those around her. Then family are shattered, friends are bewildered and angry, the powerful little community, all those people who gave time and money to help find Shannon have been slapped in the face. And for what? So that Karen Matthews could leave her minging boyfriend and move in with the next in a long line of men. She's a mother to five children for god's sake. Some people really do take the biscuit and I hope the police and the courts absolutely throw the book at this horrible woman.

Sorry, this wretch is the mother of seven children. Thanks Docky.

Monday Moaning.

Right, this will be brief. Great Run- ran personal best-despite massive painful hail shower, which was so hard the hail was bouncing off my visor and into CG's face.
I'm not going to give you my exact time but I managed to shave double digits off last year's time. 10 K IS doable within the hour, who knew?(shut up fast runners, I know you knew)

This has filled me with wild hope that I can do the same to this year's marathon. The adidas races are next up, will aim to get faster over next few months.
The reason for the brevity is as follows, CG, the paramour, CG's paramour and me went out for a 'few' cocktails last night to celebrate our run, ( CG was like a deer, he took off like a bullet at the 800metres before finish and romped home a full minute before me. I envy his turn of speed, but I am ridiculously proud of him).
Naturally a 'few' cocktails led to more cocktails and all I know is I came home at 2 this morning and I appear to have made a hames of taking off my makeup.
I hope everybody else had a good weekend. I ESPECIALLY want to congratulate Finn for being fast, gutsy and a balls to the wall kind of gal. WEll done to her. She's an absolute inspiration.

Motivation for Facats and possibly Fatcat Chumlies!

Top of the Satdee to you Chumlies! And a bright and warm Satdee it is too. Can this be it? Has spring sprung? I bloomin' well hope so and I haven't jinxed it my mentioning it.
A peculiar week in term of exercise, too much work an not enough time to do other stuff.
However, I have -in my mind anyway- started to train for the Dublin City Marathon '08. Even going as far as to NOT drink lots of delicious hooch.

Monday, Ran 10k with CG in the phoenix park, we were trying out the route for the BUPA Great run. There are two hills, one short and sharp, the other longer and slower. But we went around quite well and we had plenty in the tank at the end of it.

Tuesday -nowt, working.

Wednesday- good day, 40 pull ups with the grav at 25k counter weight, added 5 on the end at 20k. Felt the difference but nothing terrible.
25k bench x 10x3
Flys 6kx 10 x3
And then, a la cross fit, 8000m runs x 4 for time. 2 min rest between each run
1-4mins 15
2- 3 mins 55
3- 4 mins 28 ( also thought I was going to be sick, so I slowed right down)
4- 3 mins 40- this was hard but totally worth it. Next time I do this I hope to be faster.

Thursday, - Short 6k run,

Friday- One hour rowing, 12.25 kilometres. ( as an aside, to anyone trying to lose weight, rowing, -if you have access to a machine- EATS calories. If you can incorporate even 15-20 minutes of rowing into your workout it's a really good overall exercise)

Using the pull down machine,

Lats- 25kx8
tricep 30x8
Biceps 35kx8
repeat three times.

Squats, oh I hates squats and squats hate me. 18k weight on shoulders, 10x3 (this is my very worst exercise)
Gym walk, 40k, three laps. Easy.

Next week I'm going to up a few weights. It might be good or I might balls it up, but I feel I'm getting much stronger so I might as well try it out.

Again I just want to say good luck to everyone doing marathons, runs and races this weekend, may you triumph and stay injury free. I hope you all get the best of of yourselves and the day.
FMC

New and improved Ginger!

As nature and Grimsbaby intended! Brava!

Happy Ginger day Chumlies!

This Chumlies is a Rhydian Roberts. And Rhydian here is what we in the trade like to call a Closet Ginger.
Despite being a man of excellent pipes and quite a fine physique, Rhydian here is in denial. This man, of talent and showmanship and sparkly sparkly suits, has hidden his greatest gift in a bid to reach the top, he has denied himself that what separates him truly from the crowd, his utter and complete Gingerism.
Now I understand the deep shame being a ginger can evoke in a person. Years of whispers and being shunned from local communities can make ANY ginger have doubts. It's hard being a ginger in a brunette/blonde world. People can be so hurtful. You can brazen it out. You can say to them, 'look cuntbutler, it's perfectly natural, all right? Go tend to your own insecurities.'
And they'll be all, 'Oh not, there's nothing wrong with being a ginger, some of our best friends are gingers.'
Wow, how liberal of them. But you know they'll never let their children marry a ginger and you KNOW the first ginger born into their families will be viewed with deep suspicion while hereditary lines are checked and rechecked.
Even close friends can shock you with anti-gingerism when you least expect it. You might be sitting in a cafe some day, drinking Mocha and a ginger -glowing beautifully in the harsh Irish light-might pass by. You see your friends do that slack jawed gawk that makes you want to wop them one upside the head. What? You will demand. Stop, they will say, it might be natural to you, but we don't want it shoved down our ginger-fearing throats.
This is why so many gingers hide their true gingerosity. Robust reds and dazzling crimsons everywhere scamper off to the dressers of hair and lighten or darken in an vain attempt to hide away and quash their ginger.
But ginger cannot be quashed! If you dye it it will grow back, you can disguise it, but what of the brows? What of the skin tone? What of the pubis and underarm hair? Are you willing to expunge your very ginger soul?? To what end? To appease others? To 'fit in'?
Bah! I say NO. Enough is enough. It pains me to see the Beluga like paleness of Rhydiam here, matched only by his white fake hair. There should have been a flaming contrast. Look at what Nicole did to her self. I can't tell where her forehead end and her grey/blonde dye job begins. And Lohan, well you saw what happened to her the moment she forced the ginger down. Drugs, drink, a downwards spiral, and all because she is denying who she is.
You cannot be happy if you reject your inner ginger. You'll find yourself crying in the bathroom, as roots begin to claw their way back. The subterfuge will wear you down. Why fight nature? Why fight the way you were intended to be?
Don't be a closet ginger! Embrace who you are. Run with it, big it up! There will always be begrudgers and bitchy-warts, but to hell with them. For no matter what you do, no matter where you hide, never forget... you are a GINGER.

* Gets up, pumps air with fist!


(Today's rousing is also for marathon runners/10k runners/ speedy carb-loading actual athletes everywhere. This weekend will test us in some way, but I know we shall give it our all. Good luck everyone)

Brian Travolta?

I don't see it Conan, I really don't.

A Dental breakthrough of much importance.

Oh science, where oh where would we be without you? Who can say? When you and the engineers get together happiness is possible, glee is possible lots of things are possible- look at the Apple Mac! Look at ipods, but but I NEVER thought science meant this might be possible.
Could you imagine it chumlies? No more dental nightmares. No more fleeing the surgery even though it's the third appointment you've made and you still haven't had that filling. No more root canal. No more cold sweats when you brush your teeth, wondering was that a bit sensitive and does that mean you need a filling. No more talking like Rocky, no more having folk drive you home while you dribble down your front. No more drills, no more trying to keep your tongue curled over to one side of your mouth while nasty tasting bits of whatever fly around your mouth. No more rinse. No more cross dentist and lectures. No more needles. ESPECIALLY no more needles.
Why it's like reading about Uptopia. A magical tooth growing Utopia.

And speaking about fear and loathing of all things white and clinical, I am off to the vets shortly with Puddy. I wonder how long it will take science to come up with a laser of some kind that you can just point at your cat and zap, her ears are spotless? I am sure there are other pressing matters, curing cancer and fighting superbugs, but this morning that would be good.

Bertie Ahern to resign Tuesday 6th of May.

From breaking news.ie. "Taoiseach Bertie Ahern has called a press conference at short notice in Dublin amid speculation he may be about to announce his resignation."

OOOOHHHNYYAHBABY!Please let it be so.

Update. 'he never put his own personal good ahead of public interest' yeah right. The innocent always resign. 'he never did any wrong' seriously, this man is unreal, but he is going to resign on the 6th of May, and I for one won't miss the belligerent little shyster.

HUZZAH!

Mucking up the food.

Morning, and another day of tedious loooong work awaits. I haven't even read the papers yet so I don't know what's going on in the world, but I do have a question, a very pertinent question.
Why oh bloody why do chefs put that bastard parsley all over everything as a garnish? They might as well sprinkle shake-and-vac on food.
I went to the greatest secret restaurant in Dublin on Saturday evening with the paramour. He had slow roasted pork with delicious crackling and I ordered the beef bourguignon. But when our food arrived I had to send mine back so that they could either remove all the filthy parsley one flake at a time or dish me up a fresh one.
Vile stuff. Vile.
Surely parsley-which is ghastly- ought to be left off dishes unless asked for? I cannot be the only one who finds it utterly repugnant, can I?

A new discovery.

Salmon darnes CAN explode if you cook them for too long in the microwave!

Civil Unions and Gay Rights.

A brief gander through the papers this morning sees this small island of ours finally taking a step in the right direction with regard to some of its citizens. It always struck me as highly insulting that my gay friend should be treated as a sub species of person when it came to their living arrangements. I have gay friends who have lived together for years as a couple and this new legislation means they can finally make arrangements for their financial future. It's also a boon for co-habitating couples, who now can have their relationships recognised and validated.
Of course there will be the usual bleating about how this is an attack on marriage and the bedrock of the Irish way of life. But this argument is specious at best. How does recognising another right to legal protection attack a decision made my two adults. If you want to get married what's stopping you?
I've already heard one commentator on the radio trot out the old 'lifestyle choice' line this morning. It's staggering to think that in this day and age anyone would consider being gay a lifestlye choice, like piercing a lip. Yeah, that's what it all about, attacking marriage and making lifestyle choices. Yep, those pesky gays get up every morning thinking, 'how can I disrupt the life of the hetrosexual?' Nothing to do with equality or right to live a life in legal peace.
There's a man on the Brenda Power show right now ranting on about the world's population, and 'God's plan'. But congratulating himself on 'not attacking them' even though the idea of them kissing makes him sick. How forward thinking of him.
Sigh.
There's much more to do of course, and although the battle to be recognised as actual living people is being won, the war is not over. There will be plenty of nonsense spewed over the next few days about the 'gay agenda' and attacks on marriage/the social fabric of the country, but it's just fear talking.
Gays are not second class citizens, it's time to recognise their rights to live as Irish citizens .