Pamela Anderson is a bit of a gobshite.

"Jessica Simpson has upset Pam and all her vegetarian chums by wearing a T-shirt proclaiming: “Real girls eat meat.”

Pam, a member of PETA and a former Baywatch babe has lashed out with a particularly snipy insult.

Speaking on radio in Australia – where she was waiting to go into the Big Brother house – the star slammed her rival buxom blonde.

Pam blasted: “I think she is a bitch and whore.

“Actually, I don’t know if she was talking about food or men.”

She added that she is proud of not eating meat, saying: “I think it’s healthy, good for your body and good for the environment.”




Pam is a dope and a hypocrite but man she can be mildly entertaining. Wonder what Jessica will fire back? Probably something like super zingy like 'Is meat not a vegetable?'

Amy Winehouse REALLY sucks live.

What a weekend, out of hospital for a Nelson Mandela birthday concert, then to Glastonbury, attacks a fan and back to hospital. It's the wacky work of everyone's favourite crackhead, Amy Winehouse.
Seriously, I don't get the appeal of Winehouse at all. She cannot sing live to save her life. It was actually pitiful to watch her on stage as she bends and jerks her paper thin limbs about, hoikes her skirt to her fanny, warbles off key and out of tune and out of synch with her back up singers, and yet everyone still waffles on about her as though she's the second coming of Mamma Cass/Janis Joplin.
Weird. Yet I can't stop rubbernecking this train wreck. Dear marmalade, I truly can't.

motivation for Fatcats and possibly for chumlies of Fatcats!

Monday- Nope.

Tuesday-Gym
warm up with 1000 metre row, 4 min 32 seconds.
Set up deadifts at 40k, two set of 5
Upped the weight to 52.5k did a single set of 6, No loss of form and no stupid curve of the spine at this weight, so yay! Next week I"m going back up to 60k and we'll see. I'm finding the hook grip way more secure for the heavier lefts, even if it feels sort of strange.

Front Sqats using 8k bar. 40 of the buggering hateful things.

24k push press, 4 set of 10, which interspaced with 120 dips off the bench, 30 each time.

Finished off with a 20k bike ride, not as horrible as usual because I watched the tennis while I peddled.

Very pleased about dead lift form.

Wednesday- 11k. after lunch, slooooww. Slightly crippled from previous day's exertions.

Thursday- nada

Friday - Kickboxing, heavy bag work. Jesus I love hitting shit. LOVE it.

Satdee. Today I plan a run, a long run, I'm suffering from a hangover and I find running actually helps. Don't know why, but it does. It really bloody does.

Especially happy ginger day!

Evolution! Before our very eyes.



I was off for much of this week. Having a few days off for me is quite the luxury. Normally I am forced to spend time sitting at my desk, gazing out the window at the birds- by the by, we have not one but two new robins competing for Napoleon's garden- dribbling and sweating over my computer, afraid to leave lest I be sucked into the gaping maw of day dime television. A fate worse than death surely, for I have seen Jeremy Kyle.
So no, I was off, which naturally led me to hoochy lunches with the Spaniard, films were watched-Wanted is quite entertaining in a totally ridiculous way- books were read, wine was quaffed and television was once more asked up for a slow set.
And it was due to television watching that my greatest fetish came startlingly unexpectedly to life.
T'was a wet and wooly Irish summer evening. I'd had my fill of dinner and I was happily ensconced in my favourite chair, Puddy on my lap, wine by my elbow, remote controls glued to my hands. I had been flicking idly through the stations and eventually came across Scrubs, you know, that show about doctors and nurses. Now I like Scrubs, well, let me rephrase that, I like Dr Kelso, Dr Cox and the evil Janitor, the rest of them can all go catch leprosy for all I care. In fact in JD's case I would like that to be super-leprosy with a side order of Ebola.
Anyhoo, I hadn't seen this episode and Kelso was doing the rounds so I watched. And then it happened. Something so glorious and so wondrous that my breath caught in my body and for one brief moment I almost believed in god.
Yes, that's right. Carrot-top, whom previously I had only worshipped in 1-d form (though he peppers my dreams in many ds) was suddenly right there, Pinocchio like.
'He's alive... ALIVE!!!!' I said to Puddy, clutching her to my chest. She made a sound that led me to believe she was ALMOST as thrilled as I was.
And oh, the rain did stop and the skies did clear, I heard music and saw stars. Then I realised that if Gingerlovemuffin was on Scrubs then in all likelyhood he was on Youtube, and so it came to pass that I Fatmammycat can cheerfully admit I have spent MANY an hour tracking down every clip I could of my rightangledcurlyfrecklednomnomington and have eeeeeed over them all.
Bless you Kelso. I mean that from the bottom of my tar-pit heart.

Fat models!

"Sexy supermodel Karolina Kurkova has been attacked by the Brazilian media for appearing too fat on the runway. Czech Kurkova was slated in the country for appearing in a bikini with what critics called "back fat, love handles and cellulite".

Kurkova, 24, is best known for being a Victoria's Secret Angel whose superfit physique has graced the pages of fashion magazines around the world.

But her recent appearance at the Cia Maritima show during Sao Paulo Fashion Week had fashion critics up in arms.

An article in a Brazilian paper about the leggy 5'11" Kurkova described how "shocked" the audience was when she appeared looking uncharacteristically chubby with "cellulite on her butt."



Oh my GOD! That beast, cellulite! I would be 'shocked too' if I saw her. The pig. What the hell is wrong with her, how DARE she step out looking like that? Fie Fie !
But seriously, if Karolina Kurkova is fat then the rest of us mere mortals have no business even stepping outside our front doors.

Hat tip to egotastic.

Cancer, Lies and Heartbreak.

Sad to read this story today. Sad because it must be agony for parents to lose a child, sad that it must be so painful to have hope snatched away from you, sadder still that there are ALWAYS people willing and able to prey on the distress and longing of others.

Dr Carmody was struck off the medical registrar in 2004. He faces 18 charges under the Larceny, Criminal Justice, Theft and Fraud Acts.
The charges allege that the former GP obtained money under false pretences in exchange for treatment.

A Question of Charity.

Ow. OW! A week of squidgyness, a two hour gym fest yesterday leads to much ouchiness today. But no matter, a lunch with the Spaniard should see me right, right?. Assuming I can get dressed. I wonder would anyone notice if I went into town in pale blue jammies and slippers.

But before all that painful dressing and what not I have a question.

Has anyone every heard of the Ray of Light Charity?
I got a sticky posted through my door the other day from said charity,
It read,
"Dear Householder
please donate all types of wearable ladies, gents, children's clothing, blankets, shoes etc, that you have no further use for. All clothes are shipped to under-developed countries to improve their lives and welfare.
PLease support out work.
Please fix the label provided to bags or boxes and place outside your homes in clear view.
The bags will be collected on wednesday.
Collection starts from 9an till 2pm, whatever the weather.
Thank you for caring.
Mobile 086-3267998."

And that was that, but I googled Ray of Light and can't find them anywhere. I've never heard of them and I was wondering has anyone else? The Paramour reckons it's just a chap named 'Ray'.
I suppose I could just ring the number and ask, indeed I may do so after lunch.
Country Gay tell me there are loads of collection charities these days and that many of them are scams. The clothes are often rewashed, labels removed and sold in second hand shops marked off as retro or whatever Not being pissy about it, but if that's the case I'd rather recycle clothing to reputable charities, I like Age Action Ireland for example, and recently I dropped a load of books to Oxfam. I don't mind supporting a charity in any way, but I don't want to support scam artists.
So, Ray of Light? Anyone?

Ugly Dogs are Champions too.

Meet Gus! He's a a three-legged, one-eyed, half-bald Chinese Crested dog and the champion of a very unusual dog competition. Gus here was voted top ugly dog by dog-lovers from all over the world most of whom descended upon Petaluma, California, for the 20th Annual World's Ugliest Dog competition. Gus pulled off this coup by beating some seriously stiff competition, like Elwood, a Chihuahua. Personally, I think Elwood nailed it with his white mohawk and smooth crispy skin, but ugliness, like beauty, is clearly in the eye of the beholder.

Learners, start your engines.

Learner drivers are running out of time to pass tests allowing them to drive on Irish roads, acording to this article in the Indo today.

"The new regulations, which come in from next Monday, mean drivers relying on a provisional licence for their own independent transport will be breaking the law.

Transport Minister Noel Dempsey's plans to rush in the crackdown last year were heavily criticised by drivers, who pleaded for extra time.

But figures suggest many have ignored the extra eight months given to pass their tests.

The latest data from the RSA showed that 20,476 drivers are on their sixth and subsequent provisional licence -- up from 15,239 a year previously.

Many of these are likely to be in their 40s and 50s who have been on provisional licences for many years."

It will be interesting to see what the outcome to this will be. I know more than one learner driver waiting for a test who probably won't make the deadline. One of them is lucky- in the sense that he doesn't rely on his car for work, but the other does and she's hardly going to NOT use her car or drive accompanied.
Speaking of accompanied.

"Meanwhile an accompanied driver must have passed their test at least two years earlier and must be licensed to drive that type of vehicle."

What does that mean exactly? It's not enough to have passed a driving test? What? I don't get it. If you have a full licence surely that is that? If you have a full licence and insurance and you car is taxed where does two years come in? I wonder did they mean the person accompanying the L-driver, but even then what the hell has two years got to do with anything. Do people magically become brilliant driver after two years on the road?
Typical stupid additions. I'm all for less L-drivers on the roads, but if you've passed your test there should be no other ad-ons to your driving. You either hold a full licence or you don't.

Non motivational Satdee.

Top of the morning to you. Yes, it's early is it not?
Five to seven by my watch. An unnatural hour to be floating about. But needs must and I must work for a few hours. Gah.
Although it shames me to write it, I did exactly NO exercise this week. I didn't go to the gym once, I didn't run, no weights were lifted, no kicking or punching was enjoyed. Truthfully I am convinced I can almost feel myself going soft. I think I feel...squidgy. I put on the best part of a kilo. A buttery toast inspired kilo.
I have no real excuse. On monday I was knackered, Tuesday I was tired, and wednesday I got a bit swamped with work and remained that way until, well, today.
I need to start training properly for the marathon soon, and I want to get stronger and leaner. Taking a week off is not exactly the way to go about it now is it?
No doubt this will be the week everyone else rocked the workouts and trained hot and heavy, compounding my guilty squidgy shame further. To that all I an say is next week is a new week and the blasted thing I am currently working on will be done. I won't have work to hide behind then.

Happy Gingerday!

Even though I am most cranky and irritable and work sodden I would still wish you happy gingerday and of course kick off the countdown to beer o'clock. VITAL on Gingerdays. Sheepie is quite right.
Today's retro Ginger is actually brought to you by Medbh, she of the double puppy delight I'm so envious of. See Medbh knows, as do I, the power of ginger is so awesome that only rarely can it be used in advertising, less it blow every other non ginger advertisement clean out of the water or wattur as I have just hear it called. Thus ad-men the length and breadth of the universe signed a deal swearing not to abuse the heady power of the ginger.
'Let's use those insipid blondes and boring brunettes.' They said to one another over cigars and Cognac. 'We'll put in treaty format, anyone wanting to use a fabulous flaming Ginger must apply and get a permit.'
'Huzzah!'
'Also, we'll make getting the elusive permit harder to get than getting planning permission to do ANYTHING in Co. Wicklow.'
'Huzzah! Gadzooks! More Cognac!'
'Ginger be praised!'
And LO! it did come to pass. And this is the reason you alost hardly never ever see gingers flogging stuff in adverts. Unfair advantage you see.


(the gratis shot of Carrot-toppicus love muffincus is just to dampen everybody's underwear. See? I AM kind)

I Hate Psychics.

I do.I'm using the word hate here Melvin. I hate them with all my liver. Bullshit artists of the highest and stinkiest order. Fraudulent halfwits and poppycock merchants. Mumbo Jumbo supremos, liars and spoofers, cold reading emotion sucking gonifs who ought to be hog tide in a public square, whipped raw and then blunderbussed with rock salt.
Oh yes, I detest them. I have ALWAYS detested them.
But after reading this, I am going to add flat out dangerous to my other gripes.

Hat-tip to PZ

Torture and cellars.

Seriously, what is it with people? What on Earth makes people do the things they do? How can people perform unspeakable acts of cruelty yet carry on living in a normal fashion. If there something missing in their make up? Something genetically dis-functional? Every time I read a ghoulish story of people being kept in cellars or children being abused by the very people who should love and protect them the most I actually being to wonder at how deranged humans as a species are. Animals would not behave in that way. Only us.

Today's mind blowing horror story is from The Sun.

A BOY of seven was kept chained in a cellar by his cannibal family — as they ATE parts of him.

Sobbing Ondrej Mauerova was rescued alive when a neighbour’s TV picked up footage from a camera filming his agony.

He had been partially skinned after monstrous mum Klara, 31, caged him for months while relatives who were also in a sick cult feasted on his raw flesh, an appalled judge heard yesterday.

The mum wept in a Czech court as her evil was exposed in a case echoing the Fritzl dungeon horror in Austria.

Ondrej and his helpless brother Jakub, nine, were kept in cages or handcuffed to tables as they were ritually TORTURED, BURNT and WHIPPED with belts.

Their life of hell only ended when a neighbour in the city of Brno bought a CCTV baby monitor.


Instead of pictures of his newborn he was confronted by live images of Ondrej naked in the cellar — beaten and chained.

Cops swooped on the house next door and also freed a girl posing as an adopted sister aged 13 and clutching a teddy.

She later turned out to be 34 — and one of the torturers. The boys’ mum accused the woman — fellow cult member Barbora Skrlova — of brainwashing her. She wailed: "Terrible things have happened. I realise it and can’t understand how I could have allowed it."

The court in her home city heard the abuse of her children was co-ordinated via text messages sent by a leader of the Grail Movement cult — who was known only as the "Doctor".

Her sister Katerina was also involved.'

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people?

Criminally Lax.

Are we asking for trouble? We send children and women back to their respective countries-even if they have blended seamlessly and socially into the community but NOT criminals? We don't even monitor them? What the hell kind of logic is involved in this situation?

From today's indo.


JUST one in five non-EU nationals has been deported after serving a prison sentence here, the Irish Independent can reveal.

Confidential new figures show more than 766 prisoners from outside Europe were released from Irish jails over the past seven years.

But only 128 of the most serious offenders were sent back to their home countries, leaving more than 638 former inmates unmonitored.

A spokesman for the Irish Prison Service said a breakdown of the type of offences committed could not be provided. However, he admitted that crimes could be "anything", ranging from the most minor offences to the most serious.

The Department of Justice said the figures could relate to someone in the asylum process, or someone on a work permit or holiday visa who committed an offence while in the State.

A spokesman said each case is considered on its individual merits and any decision on deportation depends on the gravity of the offence and the person's status in this country.

Deportations can take years if there is an appeal.

The gardai confirmed last night they do not monitor individuals released from prison unless required to by a court."

That is just staggering and I can't understand whey there isn't a bigger kerfuffle about it. Serious criminals, illegally in our country, released into the community, unfettered and unwatched. Unreal.

The Psychic Vultures are Circling.

From yesterday's Herald.

"An Englishman who describes himself as a psychic investigator has claimed that clues to finding missing Amy Fitzpatrick are to be found in an area of land in Spain.

Joe Power told Spanish police they should search a fenced-off area in the Costa del Sol for clues after he travelled to Spain in cooperation with one of the missing teenager's aunts.

Dubliner Amy Fitzpatrick disappeared on the night of January 1, while walking to her mother's Spanish home in Calahonda, near Fuengirola.

Mr Power, who twice travelled to Spain after he was in contact with Amy's aunt Christine Kenny in Dublin, told police that he had found an area in the region that police should search.

No clues to Amy's disappearance have yet been found and some of her relatives have been desperate for any possible help from anyone. Ms Kenny has also been in contact with Irishwoman Maura Martin who has also made claims that she has special abilities to help locate the missing girl.

Mr Power has stated he gives much of his time seeking the whereabouts of missing persons and murder victims in the UK.

He claimed to have come up with clues during the search for missing English child Shannon Matthews.

He now claims that clues to Amy's disappearance can be found in an area which is about 12 kilometres from where Amy went missing.

The area is at the back of a Costa Del Sol hospital heading onto farm land in Los Altos.

The following 'clues' are to be found in this area, he has claimed:

l Scrap cars which may lead to the white car which has also been missing since Amy disappeared.

l The missing car was in this area on the night Amy went missing, he says.

l A rusty diesel metal tank is in the area which could be a clue.

l A yellow house above a ravine in the area has appeared in an 'image' which Power claims could be a clue.

Meanwhile, Christine Kenny continues to campaign for the introduction of a European Alert System for missing children, similar to the Amber Alert System which operates in the US when a child is abducted. Her campaign has so far resulted in more than 11,000 signatures on an online and paper petition."

Oh and this 'psychic' also knew where Madeleine McCann was taken after her abduction too, but curiously can't quite locate where she might be now. He is also the man who got a 'hot tip from the grave' from murdered Sally Anne Bowmen, where she said she was killed by 'a Stephan or Stephen White, aged between 24 and 26, who worked as a delivery driver.'
Unfortunately for him his 'hot tip' was way off and police arrested 36 year old chef Mark Dixie.

I feel for Amy's family, but these preening vultures preying on their vulnerability make me sick to my stomach.

Joe Power, I am against you.

Operation Puppy!

(imagine the paramour may have found in his inbox when he started work today)





With the untimely demise of Napoleon, I have decided life is fleeting, transient even. Somehow this has translated into my addled brain as 'I really should get a puppy.'
It's true. Now all I have to do is convince the paramour that puppyhood is where it's at.
I have shown him endless photos of Medbh's dogs and regularly coo over dogs of all shapes and sizes when we're out and about but so far every suggestion that we get a puppy ends with the suggestion that as we ALREADY have three cats, we have reached our animal owning quota.
Hum. While it is true that our home is resplendent with felines, I feel a pup or two thrown into the mix wouldn't really make the slightest bit of difference, AS we already have three annoyingly demanding animals.
And so I have decided to start Operation Puppy. A stealth campaign of clever ruses and sneaky MI5 styled tactics, designed into tricking the paramour into believing that getting a puppy is HIS idea. Quite how I'm going to pull this off I haven't figured out just yet. Any and all suggestions welcome.
( I've already thought about drugging him, getting a puppy myself and then when he comes round pretending that he came home with it, but I'm worried he might be suspicious.)

Accents Galore.

I was just sent this a few minutes ago. I sat through it and felt I ought to share. This might be another one for the universe to solve.

Dear Universe, why oh why would ANYONE inflict those sorts of Oirish accents on the world? And also where is Malcom supposed to be from? Scotland? Liverpool? Tir na n´Og? De end o de rainbow? Why is it whenever ANYONE does an Irish accent they immediately go up a couple of octaves? Ta te ta ta. Burn dem all.

Slimming knickers, big fat joke.

Observe, the latest weapon in the war on fat. Women! Pay heed. Forget diets, forget exercise. Rush out and buy the fat-busting inch reducing robo knickers. Why just for god knows how many of your hard earned pounds you too can squeeze yourself into the above contraption, wear it comfortably under your work or leisure clothes and VOILA! instant transformation.
Keep an eye out for next year's AMAZING product the MUMMYYUMMYISER! For just plenty of your hard earned pounds and Euros you will soon be able to swaddle your ENTIRE body from head to toe!! Slicing INCHES from your neck, arms, back AND bottoms!!
So ditch those potentially embarrassing and time consuming gym sessions, forget unworkable and tearful diets,( insert imagine of tearful woman and piece of limp lettuce) ignore those pesky people with their tedious talk of life style changes and eating plans,( insert photo of Hitler) you know it's all hooey. Why, if EVERYONE could lose weight that way then EVERYONE would be thin, right? Science* now proves that with the right amount of lyrca and persistence you too can be a svelte sally, a godess of gorgeousness. Embrace the wrap and let the wrap embrace you!!!



* Combined with Lipotrim, results are to DIE for.
(Disclaimer: squashing yourself into robo knickers might only disguise fat)

Death in the garden.

As some of you probably know I am fond of the motley crew of birds that populate my garden. In particular I was fond of Napoleon, the fierce and plucky little robin who would sing his heart out on the black berry bush outside my window, or bounce around the lawn hauling worms free from the soil. Indeed he was so plucky he often followed me about the garden if I was mowing the lawns or planting. He'd perch near me, swaying gently on the clothes line, watching to see if I might uncover a delicious morsel or two. He had a sweet tooth and liked battenburg cake. He was relentless in the protection of his territory, often attacking and chasing off the unruly magpies, even though he was so tiny by comparison.
His favourite perch was on the back of a wrought iron garden chair, and from there he surveyed his kingdom. Small red, fierce, charming. A proper litte gouger, but entertaining.
Yesterday I was dismayed to find his still warm little body at the foot of my stairs, a few feathers scattered about, the bigger of the cats lying near by. My garden is silent this morning, not even the magpies are nat-nat nattering. The Godpigeon and his lady are nowhere to be seen and mr and mrs blackbird are away, off visiting the kids no doubt.
It seems fitting.
Napoleon is no more.

I'm not angry with the Bigger of the Cats, he's a cat, doing what cats do, the bugger. Plus it was raining yesterday, and knowing Napoleon's fondness for all things wormy, he was probably out on the lawn and concentrating on excavating them from the wet soil. A momentary lapse in concentration I'm sure, but a costly one.
He wasn't my bird, but I liked him and I will miss the cheeky little chap and his trill. Maybe one of his recently fledged sons might take over the upkeep of the place. Certainly someone needs to put manners on the black and whites.
So long Napoleon, you were bold and true and my garden is all the sadder for your passing.

Too old.

It occurs to me that I am too old to be coming home in the morning from a night out. No really, far far far too old. And too suburban, far far far too suburban. But mostly too old.

Motivation for Fatcats and possibly for Fatcat chumlies.

Top of the morning to you, I hope Satdee finds you well. Another gloriously warm day here in Dublin and ye gods, I'm starting to get used to it.
I was supposed to get up early and go to the gym but as luck would have it I stayed asleep and had my first lie on of the week. Soon I must trundle off to the Asian market for all things delicious, in the afternoon I'm taking CG's dog for a long ramble where I will attempt not to drown him or let him drown himself and tonight I am to attend a paaady with a French Gay. Eep.
Tomorrow I will attempt a long run, today I will attempt to find a new dress. I don't know which is more daunting.
Anyhoo.

Monday- crippled from box jumps, one armed rows (15k) and SDLHPs during Sunday's mammoth gym session. Much pain. In lieu of doing anything that might be confused with Sport I organised a dusty book cull instead.
It hurts when I cough. naturally dust means I feel like coughing. I am an idiot.


Tuesday- still banjaxed, muscles complaining.

Wednesday- early session in the gym, ran for 55 minutes on the tread, then 25 mins on the bike. Pure cardio. No weights involved, I figure I'll give my muscles one more day or recovery. Emailed Finn on return querying why the running felt so good and so easy. I'm worried it's a fluke of some kind, but honestly I felt I could have run all day. I didn't even have my usual whingey start!

Thursday- weights involved in this baby.
Stretching warm up.
25k push jerks x10x3
Bench press 20kx10x2 could have gone heavier I suppose, but I had no one to spot me so I was a bit wary of throttling myself.
pull ups on grav, 10 using 25k counter weight,
10 using 20k counter weight,
10 using 15k counterweight. It wasn't that bad actually. Going to start with twenty next time, drop to 15 and try a 10.

Pull ups interspaced with curls, 10k each arm, x10 x 3, definitely big improvement in this. Actually I noticed a real jump in strength this week. Feeling pretty pleased with it all.
Finished with a 25k bike ride and some serious stretching in an attempt to stave off as much next day pain as possible.

Friday, I haz pain anyway. Went to kickboxing and engaged in lot of heavy bag work. Kick and strike combos, then three minute rounds on pads. Bloomin' wreaked after, but good wreaked, not bad wreaked. Then to put the final nail in the coffin that are my legs I ran 5k as fast as I could which was 28.11, damn, so close. I'll get you 27, you see if I don't!

Did I mention it was warm and sunny?

Happy Gingerday everyone!

(For Sam, the windswept ginger (gingerous comboverous) A rare specimen, found near lochs and squinty eyes women, known to be aggressive and dangerous when cornered. Can be bred from. Bellicose. Best avoided during mating season. And also any other season)






Top of the busy busy morning to you, I hope Gingerday finds you well and at peace with the world. No break ups, breakouts, breaking limbs or break dancing I'm sure.
Wither the result to yesterday's voting? I hear and read turn out was low, although the BBC are saying there was a strong turnout for the 'no vote'.
How can there have been a low turn out? Don't folk want a say in what happens to our fair isle? Apathy how are ye?
Speaking of apathy and passive surrender, the stupidest thing I've read today has to be Spain's latest 'mental health issue.' It appears worried parents are putting their children in the hands of Spain's mental health association, why? Mobile Phone addiction.
I fucking kid you not.

Observe, from the Beh Beh Cay.

'Two children in Spain have been admitted to a mental health institution to be treated for addiction to their mobile phones, Spanish media report.

The children, aged 12 and 13, were sent to the clinic by their parents, who said they could not carry out normal activities without their handsets.

They were doing badly at school and lying to relatives in order to get money to spend on their phones.

They have been learning to cope without their phones for three months.

Dr Maite Utges, who runs the Child and Youth Mental Health Centre in Lleida, near Barcelona in north-eastern Spain, said it was the first time the clinic had treated children who were dependent on their mobile phones.

"They both showed disturbed behaviour and this exhibited itself in failure at school. They both had serious difficulties leading normal lives," she was quoted in Spanish papers as saying.

The children had owned their phones for 18 months, and their parents had made little effort to restrict their use before noticing how serious their dependence had become.'


See, I knew mobile phones were savage. Remember people, it's never your fault, it's society and her ilk.

Now we can all suffer together.

No really.

Inexplicable yet annoying things.

Dear fucking Universe,
I have a few questions I want to run by you, seeing as I don't have the answers and they DON"T appear to be in the bottom of my coffee cup, which by the way is annoyingly empty.
So...

1-What is the point of bumble bees? I have watched one bumble its way around my office for the last five minutes, bouncing stupidly off my window and barely avoiding certain death at the paws of the Marklar. In the end I had to catch the stupid thing in a glass and let it out. Where it bumbled happily off.

2- Why-after all this time- does the paramour still express surprise at my reluctance to phone anyone? I don't express surprise at his reluctance to eat cauliflower.

3- Why must the bigger of the cats ANNOUNCE his arrival with a heart shattering wail EVERY time he returns to the house, no matter if he has been away for one hour or two minutes?

4- Why is it that when people say, 'you'll have that information first thing in the morning' what they really mean is, 'you won't have that information first thing in the morning'?

5- Why would Etheline know who anyone on Big Brother is? Why would she think I would want to know who they are?

6-Why is that bloody song 'American Boy' stuck in my head for the third day running?

7- Why must Board Gas make so much fucking noise?

8- Why can't I stay fit and not put on weight by simply sitting at home drinking beer, eating jelly babies and not breaking my balls at the gym/running/starving away to nothing?

9-Why does 'I don't have a mobile phone,' make people laugh? It's not like I said I'm trying to grow a mickey in my arm pit. I have email, I have a house phone, I'm here at my desk practically twelve hours a day, what the fuck would I need a mobile phone for?

10- Why do people hang 'Baby on Board' signs in their car windows? So fucking what? I don't hang 'Listening to Newstalk' on mine. Do they think 'Baby on Board' protects them? Do they think folk see the sign and go, 'Oh, they have a baby on board, I won't crash into that car I'll go crash into that Merc instead.'
Is it because they're bad drivers and they think a cutesy sign indicating they can procreate might make other drivers forgive their lumbering steering and inability to park? Because we don't, no sir, we don't forgive them. They should learn to drive properly and fuck the signs.

Grumpily yours,
FMC

My milkshake bring all the boys the yard.

"Breastfeeding is said to benefit both mother and baby in the first six months of a babies life, but mother-of-two Stella Onions has taken this to the extreme as she continues to nurse daughter Josephine, nearly five and a half, and her little brother Zac, who is almost four, with her 'mummy milk'.

Stella Onions, 45, believes her daughter and son are currently some of the oldest in Britain still having their mother's milk.

Comedy characters like Bitty in Little Britain might make people uncomfortable - but Stella said the benefits for her two offspring were definitely worth the time she spends nursing.

She said: "My children's friends have seen them at my breast. They both come and ask for 'mummy milk'. But nobody says anything bad about it. Nature sorts it out for you.

She said: "Lots off studies have been done. And in general, babies fed on formula are more likely to get gastric infections and urinary and respiratory problems. Some studies even suggest that there is an increased risk of certain childhood cancers.

"Also women who don't breastfeed have a higher risk of developing breast and ovarian cancer and rheumatoid arthritis.

"When you breastfeed your body releases a feel good hormone which calms the mother and current research is investigating if it helps with post natal depression."

Stella, who is married to Andy, a computer games designer, and lives in Ludlow, Shropshire, also home schools her children and admits she has time to spend nursing them each morning and evening."





Erp Missus Onions, your children are not babies. Seriously, if your children are old enough to chew steak it's probably time to stop breast-feeding them. Taken in squirmy squeee from the daily wail

A monster in female form.

Every so often I'll read something that makes me rethink my stance on the death penalty. I'm normally against killing people, believing rightly or wrongly that people ought to pay for their crimes yet remain breathing, and somewhere dimly in the back of my mind I believe we don't have a right to take another life. However in this case I'd just put this woman down.

"Tiffany Hall said she knew she would never get out of an Illinois prison after being sentenced to life for killing a pregnant friend to take her unborn baby."
"I will never get out," Hall said softly after St. Clair County Circuit Judge Milton Wharton asked during the hearing if she understood the magnitude of the sentence, the Belleville (Ill.) News-Democrat reported."

"In court, Haida recounted the shocking details of the crime that began on Sept. 15, 2006.

Hall struck her friend Jimella Tunstall, 23, on the head repeatedly with a table leg at Hall's mother's house, then cut Tunstall's fetus from her womb in a bathtub. After Tunstall bled to death, Hall dumped her body in an East St. Louis lot, Haida said.

Hours later, Hall told police in Illinois she had been sexually assaulted in St. Louis and given birth to a stillborn child after the attack. When police arrived, she had the dead fetus with her, claiming it was her own. She refused to be examined at a hospital.

Three days later, Hall visited the father of two of Tunstall's children and the unborn child, Haida said. The father treated all the children as his own, and was caring for them, Haida said. Hall lied to the father, saying Tunstall wanted him to let her pick up the children and Tunstall's vehicle, he told police.

"He relayed to the officers that was the last time he saw his three children," Haida said.

Hall then drowned the three children — DeMond Tunstall, 7, Ivan Tunstall-Collins 2, and Jinella Tunstall, 1 — in the same bathtub where she killed their mother, Haida said.

Authorities said Hall's story began to unravel on Sept. 21, 2006 at the funeral for the fetus, when she told her boyfriend, home on leave from the military, that the baby wasn't his and that she killed a pregnant woman and stole the fetus. He told police.

The bodies of the three children were found two days later hidden in a washer and dryer inside the East St. Louis apartment where the children lived with their mother.

Hall later told authorities that she "had contemplated taking Ms. Tunstall's unborn child for quite some time," Haida said. He said she bought rubbing alcohol, a sharp object and a nasal aspirator a week before the attack.

One of Hall's attorneys, James Gomric, said Hall had been mentally fit to stand trial, but also said she had unresolved mental health issues and tested at an IQ in the mid-70s. After the court proceedings, Gomric said he could not speak to a motive in the case, or discuss if his client had ever shown remorse."

A flourishing stupidity.

Cinder Block Wall Crushes Dudes Leg - Watch more free videos

The paramour just sent me this clip and I thought I'd share it with you. Some people are just too stupid for words. This is a perfect example of that.

Vegans bollocks and parental stupidity.

While I understand a person's decision not to eat animal on a moral ground, forcing children to partake of a strict and potentially harmful diet is utter clap trap and in some cases down right cruelty.
Observe from yesterday's Sunday Times,

" A 12-YEAR-OLD girl in Scotland brought up by her parents on a strict vegan diet has been admitted to hospital with a degenerative bone condition said to have left her with the spine of an 80-year-old woman.

Doctors are under pressure to report the couple to police and social workers amid concerns that her health and welfare may have been neglected in pursuit of their dietary beliefs.

The girl, who has been fed on a strict meat and dairy-free diet from birth, is said to have a severe form of rickets and to have suffered a number of fractured bones.

The condition is caused by a lack of vitamin D, which is needed to absorb calcium and is found in liver, oily fish and dairy produce. Decalcification leads to the bones becoming brittle and can cause curvature of the spine.

Dr Faisal Ahmed, the consultant paediatrician treating the child at the Royal Hospital for Sick Children in Glasgow, declined to discuss the specific case. He said, however, that he believed the dangers of forcing children to follow a strict vegan diet needed to be highlighted.

One leading nutritionist, who asked not to be named, said: “In most instances, the parents who are imposing this very restrictive and potentially hazardous diet are not themselves brought up as vegans. They are imposing on their children something . . . which we do not know enough about to know it is safe.”

Jonathan Sher, head of policy at Children in Scotland, an umbrella group representing 400 organisations, said social workers should intervene where a vegan diet was putting children’s health at risk.

Last year, an American vegan couple were given a life sentence for starving their six-week-old baby to death. In 2001 two vegans from west London were sentenced to three years’ community rehabilitation after they admitted starving their baby to death.

Glasgow city council said the incident involving the 12-year-old girl had not been referred to its social work department."


Meanwhile over at the Daily wail, another baby is being fed an entirely ridiculous diet which can only cause obesity and malnutrition. Although I must admit I laughed at the mother's assertion that her daughter was healthy and that she occasionally drank milk or some coke between her meals of chips.
Dear me.
What a bunch of wallys. Here we are in the affluent west and children are dying of starvation and idiocy. It can't be down to lack of information so it must be willful ignorance. I've said it before, some people shouldn't be allowed to reproduce.

Dog update.

I went-armed with the paramour's camera- to have a chat with the lady who owns the dog that scared the living bejayous out of me the other day. Turns out- Surprise!- it's not her dog, it's her husband's dog and she 'wouldn't harm you.' She also said the dog wasn't 'let out' but that sometimes she 'got out'. I said that it was her job it make sure the dog 'didn't get out' and that if I saw her out again I'd report her, no matter which way the dog managed it. She then once again said 'I know she looks vicious but she wouldn't hurt you.' I said I had no interest in testing that theory.
It was interesting to note that while she was saying this the dog was panting and pacing behind the large wooden fence the kept the dog to the back of the property. It was also interesting to note that the dog was back there -secure- while the green itself was populated with kids.
Anyway I said my piece and she wasn't being a bitch about it, and she agreed that the dog shouldn't be able to get out of her front garden through the neighbour's garden and actually pointed out where they erected some sort of chicken wire barrier between the fencing to stop her using that way out. I nodded as I looked at this, but once again wondered if it was THAT safe then why was the dog in the back right now.
Either way, she assured me the dog won't be out alone in the future and that I needn't worry. I said I wasn't worried because if I DID see her out again I'd just phone the police and let them worry about it.
She didn't get all bitchy about that remark and she wasn't being a weapon during the whole conversation so I wasn't either. We said our goodbyes in a civil manner and I went on down to the path I usually run on, just down from her house. Behind me up the bank the kids played and sprayed each other with water pistols. I took a picture of the river, one because I was feeling relieved- I hate confrontations no matter how right I feel- and two, because I want you to see how beautiful it is.
I think I handled the situation correctly, but I mean what I say, if I see the dog out again I'm just going to ring the Gardai. I'll spin by there a few times over the next few week to see if she's as good as her word. I'm hoping she is.

motivation for Fatcats and possibly for chumlies of Fatcats!

Top of the morning to you from sunny sunny Dublin. And I hope this Satdee finds you all in fine fettle. Had a cracking week, and feeling good. Have sort of started training for October's marathon, from now on there will be some short and long runs interspaced throughout the week. I'm hoping the better prep work this year will help me shave one hour off my time. The paramour points out that perhaps not queueing for painkillers in a chemist and stopping for a leg massage would also help my time. He of course is correct, but I won't be telling him that, it will swell his head.

Monday- 10 k flora mini marathon- a slow slow quick quick slow quick affair. Note to self, forget PBs and the like for this day and concentrate on raising money instead.

Tuesday- Gym,
10 kilo Bicep curls, 4 set of 10.
Pull up on grav 20k counterweight, 40 in total, interspaced with the curls.

20 back squats with 10k weights. then 5 with 20k. 20k is not that heavy for me in another exercise but in squatting-which I'm poor at, it's plenty to keep me occupied.

Then just for the hell of it I tried one last set of pull ups with the counter weight on 15k, could I do 10? Nope, but I could do 8 before my arms simply failed, so next week I WILL be doing that.

Finished of with twenty minutes rowing, arms were pretty much mush though.

Wednesday.- rest day.

Thursday 12k run, damp, hilly. Dog worrying.

Friday, kickboxing, including a LOT of the heavy bag work and tuck jumps and skipping. I was BANJAXED afterwards, happily so, new instructor informs me I throw a 'wicked right hook' I smiled again. Can't get used to these nice instructors, although the last ten minutes of conditioning reminded me of Memnoch. Also I had to lie down in the changing rooms for a few seconds before my shower. My diaphragm was achy. I really luv kicking and punching things.

Today I'm going to hit the gym for another weights session, tomorrow if the weather holds I plan a 10 mile run along the coast. Hope everyone's feeling dandy. Going to get dressed ow and go see a woman about a dog, if I'm not back I've been eaten.

Happy Gingerday everyone!

'When Fatmammycat comes round I'm going to wrap myself in cling film and get her to cut bits of me free and blow on my belly. I plan to be a ginger slug of love.'

When asked what she thought of this plan, a fiery irish woman wearing rubber gloves promptly fainted, overcome with desire and a fetid imagination.

Dangerous Dogs Deserve Detention.

Not slow and not easily scared off.



I"m thinking of calling the guards. But I can't decide if I'm over reacting or not. It's not a natural state for me to include Gardai in anything but in this case I think the woman in question needs a short sharp shock, and maybe visit from the local boys in blue might just be the ticket.
I'll explain the situation and you can tell me what you think.
I may have mentioned this before but there's a group of cottages grouped around a communal green near where I live and where I run. The end cottage has a mastiff or actually it could be a dogue de Bourdeaux. Either way, she is a young powerful bitch who is frequently out and about. This dog is about two, barely out of puppyhood, but already she exhibiting all the signs of an excellent and potentially dangerous guard dog.
This first time I encountered this dog I had CG's dog with me. This bitch had been running around the green with another dog when her head came up. She then chased Cg's lovely quiet dog until the owner came out and called her inside, assuring me 'she wouldn't hurt a fly.'
The second time I encountered this dog she was lying in her garden. I was jogging along the river bank and she began to bark as I neared their property, she then jumped OUT of their garden into next door's garden and out onto the green, all the better to chase me. I stood my ground and again the owner- a much older woman who is easily outweighed by said dog, came out and called her in. The dog retreated-slowly, but her hackles remained up and I realised then she meant business.
Since then I've mostly avoided running near there, but yesterday I did a loop and ended up not too far away from that house and lo and behold out pops cujo and this time she fucking charged me. I want you to look at the photo I posted and then imagine that lumbering-at speed- down a grassy bank barking in a deep hoarse bark.
Now I'm tall, and as I owned a doberman myself back in the day I don't really frighten easy. Jack Russells worry me (sorry Eolai, but they are nippy), but most other dogs do not.
I stood stock still and yelled, 'get the fuck! Go on!' in a very loud aggressive way and fortunately the dog didn't launch an attack, but neither did she look particularly worried about me, which worried me. What she did was flank me growling and even in the back of my head I was pondering my options should this bitch decide I was fair game. This dog probably outweighs me and if she bit me I'd be seriously seriously hurt. Not to mention if she knocked me down I'd be lucky to get back up again.
Fortunately before I became Pedigree Chum the old lady came out and started hollering. It took her some time to call that beast to heel, ( I will admit it probably seemed like an eternity) then as the dog slowly made her way back up the bank, casting many a look in my direction, the women started with 'She wouldn't hurt you-'
To which I replied, 'I don't give a fuck what she'd do, she shouldn't be out.' ( bad mannered of me I know but the bloody thing had scared the shit out of me and I could feel the adrenaline pumping. What if I had had my ipod on and hadn't hear her bark? She might have jumped on my moving body and pinned me to the ground.)
'That's a few times that fucking mutt has run after me! What if she bites? What if she attacks a child? What are you going to do then? Huh?? What the fuck is she doing out!!??'
Well I ranted and raved like a lunatic for a few more minutes using expletives and hand gestures and all the things you'd expect a person who has just had the heart knocked sideways with fear to do. And then I went back to my run, muttering and mumbling under my breath.
But this morning I am still fuming. I am genuinely considering calling the Guards. I don't think that woman has any real clue how dangerous that dog really is. Of course the guards won't do anything, 'being chased by a dog' is hardly a priority I know that, but that women needs to understand just how serious a risk she is taking by not keeping that beast in a secure yard. That animal is territorial and fearless, not a good combination, if she decides she's protecting the home and hearth there's bugger all anyone could do to stop her.
Well?

Jelly baby Lies.

'Fatmammycat!'
'Eep!'
'Where did you get those Jelly babies?'
'What Jelly Babies?'
'What do you mean what Jelly Babies? The ones right there under your pillow.'
'Oh those Jelly Babies. They were put there.'
'By who?'
'Friends of mine, good friends. They knew I was short some Jelly babies and I was upset about that, seeing as I was going through a difficult time and all that, so they had a whip round.'
'A whip round?'
'Yes. I was over in their house earlier and they handed me a big bag of Jelly babies. I was flabbergasted at their jelly-generosity.'
'But you just said they were put there!'
'Well yes, I put them there.'
'But surely those fizzy cola bottles are the ones from the kitchen.'
'Which ones.'
'Those ones, the cola bottles. Hey! Stop putting them in your mouth!'
'Myump myump, gulp. Oh those cola bottles. Well yes. I won those.'
'What?'
'I won them.'
'You won them?"
'yep.'
'When?'
'Before, it's hard to remember when, I'm so innocent you see, my memories get fluffy.'
'Your sister said she saw you take them from the kitchen.'
'I have a sister?'
'What?'
'Oh right, well she's mistaken.'
'She saw you.'
'I doubt that.'
'But she says she saw you.'
'Seems to me like you'd need proof of that. Anything else is just hearsay and conjecture.'
'You're eating the proof.'
'Oh yes. Well. hah, you have me there. Hee hee. Actually these are her cola bottles, she loaned them to me after I swapped some jelly babies with her earlier in the year.'
'What?'
'Oh yes, swapping and loaning, it's all the rage in Jellyland.'
'So you're saying you didn't take anything.'
'I'm not saying anything. But sure cad a thárla? Hee hee.'
'Look, I just want to know if-'
'I think I'll go outside and play now.'
But what about the theft?'
'La la la, if you were the only boy in the world and I was the only ga....l. Hey! Gummy bears. I'd forgotten I even had those. Myump myump.'

Slapping my mother.

As much as I actively dislike my mother I would NEVER slap her in the face. I might consider poisoning her-indeed I frequently consider poisoning a good many people- but I'd never strike her, no matter HOW fucking insane she drove me. AND I'm an adult. As a child I would have died forty deaths rather than speak to her so disrespectfully. 'Shut up' might have escaped my lips once, but I suspect my next words were 'I'm sooo sorry, please don't kill me.'
Fear and respect, if you can't get one you can always get the other.

First spotted on Dlisted.

Bad habits.

I consider myself a pretty forceful sort of personality. That's not always a good thing but there you have it. Over the years I have mellowed some, but I still have that core of steel that dictates my thoughts and behaviours. I am toughest on myself, reasoning-quite rightly- that if I SAY I'm going to do something than I ought to bloody well do it, and I take no nonsense from my alter lazy arsed ego who might pipe up in a fit of squeaky pique.
If I say I am going to stop smoking I do it. If I say I am going to quit my job and go work for myself, I do it. If I say I'm leaving the country you can be damn sure I'll be on a plane somewhere not long after trying to learn new ways to butcher a foreign tongue. If I decide to not talk to people I don't talk to them, if I say I'll run a marathon I'll run the buggering thing. if I say I'll call you between two and twenty to four then you CAN expect a phone call from me, if I say yes Ill be your bridesmaid then at some point I will be standing at the top of a church on organza with a fierce unwavering smile.
So, knowing all this about myself, why the buggeredy bollocks can't I STOP biting my nails? Once again I am reduced to two on my left hand and one on my right, all because I was reading a particularly engrossing chapter of a book last night and forgot to stop myself nibbling on my own god damned hands.
So today I'm stuck with slightly painful and ferociously ugly stumpy hands AGAIN!
There must be some way to stop nail biting-short of wearing gloves 24/7, I mean I'm 35 years old. It's disgustng. Surely someone has cracked it?
Bad stupid annoying ugly painful habits. I am against them.

Cyclists Beware.

Every so often Finn or Gimmie or John or somebody will relate a bicycle story that oozes road rage or idiocy and I'll read it and laugh, because they write real funny like, but part of me will offer up a small witter to marmalade to keep the bloody amusing buggers safe as they peddle thither and yon.
This is why...


One dead, ten injured, all because some dickwad was drunk and fell asleep behind the wheel in mexico. The were only 15 minutes into a 34k road race. They hadn't a chance.
So keep safe cyclists, keep your eyes peeled and your ear open and don't bother getting into one with fuckers who think they own the road. You know they don't and they have small willies.

Grocery hike.

I've a question. Has anyone else noticed a distinct jump in their grocery bill of late? I"m talking at least a 20% jump up on the weekly shopping bill? I don't think I've been buying anything out of the ordinary, and yet there is a significant increase. Anyone else feeling that pinch?

Flora Mini Marathon day!

Huzzah and top of the morning to you. It's another sunny glorious day in dear old Dublin and in a few hours the Flora Mini Marathon will be under way and I will be huffing my way around it, attempting a PR of about 55 mins. The fact that I'm slow as a drunken sloth notwithstanding, it should be a cracking day. The atmosphere at this particular race is unreal, 40,000 ladies of all ages, sizes, physicalities and nationalities all ready to run or walk the 10k, most of us in the name of a charity. It's a really nice way to spend an afternoon.
Just laughing at my goody bag I received with my bib number. it's a curious mix of freebies, for example this year we have Scholl Cracked heel repair cream, useful. Vanish Oxi Action Magnets, er, okay. Ocean Spray Cranberry and Raspberry fruit drink, yummy. Chocolate, the paramour can have that, Benefiber powder, say what now? Surf small and mightt liquid detergent, hmmm beginning to see a pattern, vasoline with aloe vera, okay useful, small tub of Nivea, useful, deodorant that makes me gag, not exactly useful, Velvet crunch crisps, nom-nom, Spatone, 100% liquid Iron Supplement, oh mega gag, Adidas postcards, humm, okay, and my personal favourite a purple plastic water container that straps around your wrist, from VHI healthcare. Oh and a load of advertising, and a Big AL's recipe booklet. Big AL's? Really?
Right ho, off to have a carb breaky of wheataflakes and skimmed milk, then I need to make up my music list. Did I mention it was sunny? Oh somedays it's just good to be alive and kicking.