That was the weekend.
Paulaner beer is a dangerous mistress. Like the enticing smell of a plotting seductress, this German beer also emits an intoxicating scent. If you were left alone in a room with a pint of it, you would soon start to feel crowded. Drinking it does the same thing. Run a spoon through a freshly poured glass of it and you will encounter a bizarre resistance. Dip and finger in it, and you may never play the piano again. If beer made a sound, Paulaner would be My Bloody Valentine, at their bloodiest. I don’t know what it is, but a number of weeks ago I woke up on the floor of my flat to the sound of the opening credits to the Late Late. I’d been out drinking since 7, the Late Late starts at 9.30, so this was only two and a half hours later. On Friday, I went to Coman’s in Rathgar to look at girls, but after a measly 5 bottles of it, I was tucked up in bed at 10.30, giggling to myself. Some weeks ago, I also went to see Ladytron and drank Paulaner. Allegedly. Not since the days of Furstenburg, when waking up on the Ferry to Holyhead was a regular occurrence, have I been beaten by a beer so badly. Am I alone?
Anyway, this part of the post goes out to my Sister, who thinks I’m drinking too much, and by proxy my Mum, who believes everything she tells her.
Anyway, Saturday was given over to domestic self-abuse and Euro 2008 before I finally emerged to attempt to go and see Jape and Dan Deacon in Vicar St. After a series of heated Lisbon related rows some friends, I was off home, Jape-less. It’s funny, nights out in the last 10 years or so have been largely politics free. Nights out with Fakey back in the early 90’s used to see us at each others throats about the state of the nation, but recently people just didn’t seem bothered. In a way, whether I agree with the outcome of the vote on Thursday or not, it is good to see people talking again. The General Election last year was a damp squib (Squid, Fakey?) and anyway, it clashed with Big Brother so nobody even noticed. But all this talk of spiraling costs, job losses and euro-skepticism has re-ignited normal folks interest, and as I emerged from the pub on Saturday night, with my pride (and chin) bruised, it felt good to back, in an 80’s nostalgia kinda way.
Sunday was father’s day, which involved a roast dinner, some spectacular defeats in swing-ball to both my nephew and my sister (yes a child AND girl) and about 5 kilos of Rhubarb.
Oh, and there was the food poisoning.
And the blocked toilet.
10 comments:
5 Kilos of rhubarb, fuck, that'll shift any red meat lurking in your colon, surprised you didn't crack the bowl. They took the leaves off first, right?
So, tell us, where does your political compass point? I am midway on the left and on the axis between authoritatian and libertarian.
my political compass tells me i should stop pricking about on other people's blogs and do some work (and that i'm a marxist dictator at heart).
did someone really take a crack at you over the treaty, Disgrace?
*impressed*
it would be rude of me to ask which way you voted, wouldn't it? still, you should have gone to the dan deacon gig. i wanted to but instead i sat at home sulking and doing arnold schwartzeneger impressions for the dog. there was no paulaner involved.
squib.
Thrifty, my Dad emergeed from the pub with the Rhubarb yesterday. I didn't ask questions.. well, I did, I asked him where he got the Rhubarb, but he didn't answer.
Politically, I'm pretty much on the same spot as Ghandi there, which I think says it all. Interesting google results when you search for Ghandi and Rhubarb at the same time..
Rosie, It would not be rude but it would perhaps be unwise to share the details, esp. with Libertas mooching around the internet. Let's just say that I voted 'Yes' but we'll keep the exact details to ourselves.. I got three playful slaps from a friend for my 'outlandish' opinions on the treaty, whichI did not deserve, I can tell you that.
She's a feisty mistress alright and I've had a few blurry moments with her. I also discovered Franziskaner beer a long time ago and that was the beginning of a very slippery slope mostly ending on the footpath!
Give Bishop's Finger a go. The beer, not the digit.
Quickroute, it's the nights I emerge from the pub and somehow manage to avoid the footpath that I'm more worried about. Like, what's THAT all about?
Thrifty, I've had some funny times with the Bishops finger alright, ten of them in one night and you certainly won't be walking straight... Oo-er missus!!
Yes, I like it as much for the opportunity to invite a guest to "get a Bishop's Finger inside them" as for the quality of the ale itself.
Thrifty, you consistently post filth on this blog.. Keep it up
I have a Paulener glass on my desk at work which I use for drinking water. I stole it out of RiRa one night...actually I didn't want the glass, I was more interested in the half pint I still had in the glass when they were kicking us out...and I'm sure you're involved in the story too...and we may have ended up in Ricks Burger Palace.
Anyho, this story is kinda pointless...but I just wanted you to know that Paulener is part of my life now :)
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