For Want Of A Play Review

On Tuesday evening my household had the pleasure of holding the monthly Justin Bieber Convention. To escape obsessed adolescents I decided to go see this.

And it was megaquarefuppinCLAAAASS so it was! Now I know today's, wha, Thursday, but it runs until Saturday so if you haven't seen it then just feckin go. Srsly. I won't spoil nowt for yis cause reviewing a play would seem too much like some sort of homework of the Junior Cert kind, a long buried memory of a yoke.

After a loffley evening stroll down the parade cause Becky and I weren't sure where we were getting collected, I returned to the eh...party, and so proceeded to drown my sorrows in Nick Drake, tea, and stolen Heroes from downstairs.

Yoghurt Makes The World Go Round

...And don't you dare contest that.


The smell of burning pig flesh doesn't really appeal to me in the mornings. Each to their own, but Monday morning, after a mega night of not sleeping and doing various activities including scooter races, cheese eating, intense teeth brushing and Romanian cultural immersion in that dodgy place about a 45 minute cycle away from mine which we refer to as "Gowran", I for one was not up for cremated sausages.

So after being bribed with a bag of jellies by Joseph I began the treacherous cycle home. A number of mishaps occured; rain, chain failures (which had to be fixed on the side of the Danesfort hill, morto.5 on the morto scale) , a minor (but incredibly graceful) fall into a ditch to name but a few.

Then, with one last final push along the main road I made it home, albeit completely bushed. Well you can imagine my delight when I discovered I had returned home to none other than a STOCKED KITCHEN!

All better.

The Very Best Of

...Nyan Cat.


Yep I may be 2 months late, but for me it stills holds an element of...wonder. Here are my top 5 Wonders of the Nyan Cat World.

Feat. The Annoying Orange 

Kids React To

Nyan Cat Game :D :D

Nyan Cat Jewellery?!

Um. You've to be in the right mood for this - aka. seriously needing to procrastinate!

Saturday night at around 1am, I found myself 4 feet in the air, eyes shut (in an intensely squinty kind of a way as opposed to sleepy), arms flailing, teeth gritted. No, I was not the victim of a bungee jump gone horrifically wrong, I was dancing. No surprise there, dancing into the early hours on a Saturday night, I'm hardly the only one eh? 


Thing is, I weren't gallavanting round Pegasus, I was in my front room. With Youtube as my sole companion. Oooh, dodgy territory here now. HANNAH'S A FREAK alarm bells ringing? Don't worry, I get that a lot too. 


But honest ta god it's gotta be the best feeling ever. Although shutting your eyes does help you to forget that you can't actually dance for shizz. Sure I did ballet from when I was 3- 12, and there was a bit of modern thrown in there towards the end, but now, well, I think the verb "flailing" summed it up nicely in that first sentence. 


I'd be willing to bet that I'm not the only one of yis who indulges in this...somewhat eccentric habit, and if I am then you haven't listened to these

Hannah's current top 3 lone freakout dancing tunes 

Fatboy Slim - Right Here, Right Now

Defies explanation.

Erasure - Sometimes

What can I say? I'll make no excuses for myself and/or undeniably odd music taste.

Rescue Remedy - Blues Waffle

Anyone who's seen these guys know it's impossible not to dance. It's an utter choon and they're well worth a looksee!

Tan...tastic?

Fake Tan is quite easily the worst thing to ever happen to this world (hey, there's nowt wrong with a bit of hyperbole). So much so that I'll often try to convince myself that "Pale is in! Pale is in! Look at my gorgeous pale le - GOOD GOD THE VILE PASTINESS MAKE IT STOP!". 


So with some degree of apprehension, the bottle is withdrawn from the second to last bottom shelf of me desk. Along with the mitt. Now, having shied well clear of the concoction until absolutely necessary, I'm glad to say that I've not experienced all the various forms of it. Mine is a Marmite-like goo. What am I saying, Marmite-like!? Sure it's quite obviously Marmite. Not a doubt. 

The perpetrator of the crime

As for the actual application of aforementioned gunk, well it's pretty much a "grit one's teeth and hope for the best" type operation. Just accept that your knees will be proper tangoed and you'll inevitably miss large patches on the back. Streaks just add to the effect. All in all, a good job done. 


Until you realise you'd kept your socks on and are gonna be wearing sandals. Anyone for tights?

Collections in the Triggs/Read Household

      You may have noticed me mutter an expletive in yesterday's post, and this is because I kicked over my sugar packet collection. I'd like to defend that, and say it's not as bad as it sounds, but in fairness, it's probably worse. Collections are pretty odd. I mean, why bother? Well, okay, in all honesty who doesn't want to be her? ↓
  

I figured I can't be the only person who has a collection, and to prove this theory, I undertook a bit of a not-so-shnakey investigation into the collections of my family members.

First up, Clodagh. Her indulgence? 

Justin Bieber Memorabilia, circa. 2011.

No, that's not upside-down, he's invaded the ceiling too.

All in all, I counted a grand total of 77 Justin Bieber faces staring back at me, not to mention JB phone charms, elastic bands, t-shirts, magazines, CDs, annuals, cinema tickets, concert tickets etc. etc.

 And I was like, Clodagh, Clodagh, Clodagh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Next contender? That'd be Mum/Mummy/Mam/Mammy/Mother/Parental Unit #1.

Yep, you guessed it... 

Egg cups!

Top 5 IMHO

We've come a long way since first trawling that dodgy antiques shop on Rose Inn Street, so much so that the egg shelf was recently extended. My all-time favourite is a Dalek one, but apparently it's too gaudy for the shelf. 

Dad? This was the best I could do to assure myself that everyone collected things. 

Computer Programming Manuals

Anyone up for some visual C++? 

Investigation complete, it was time to come clean.

My name's Hannah, and I collect sugar packets.

Strictly speaking, this 52 is incorrect, as I found another under my bed this morning. I'm welcome to donations by the by, although all packets are individual, from as far as Vietnam to as near as...Esquires...

Wake up in the morning feeling like a Disney Princess

A Day In The Life Of a Competitive Swimmer

Yeah, I'm one of those. Those being people who get up when you're going to sleep to go and do two hours of strenuous exercise, sechsmal in der Woche. It's not too infrequently that I get asked "How do you do it? Where do you find the motivation? You go to bed at WHAT time?! Is it hard to get up? Do you get used to it??" etc., etc. Well, here's my secret.

Yours truly

(4.45AM: Woken up by a flurry of bluebirds, deer and various other cute woodland creatures. Catch sight of myself in the mirror. My, I look ravishing. Must be because I went to bed at 7pm the night before. 

GET IN MAH BELLEH

5.00AM: After pulling on my gown and painting my toenails, I float downstairs towards the smell of warm porridge - those shnakey bluebirds have been up since 3! What are they like, eh? 

5.15AM: My swimming bag has been 

packed since the night before (I like 

to be organized) and I've even bought

 nice shampoo and filled my water 

bottle with Robinsons - summer fruits, 

what else? 

5.20AM In my 1902 State Landau, a present from the queen upon my birth in 1995, I enjoy the peaceful journey to the swimming pool. I like to wave at the European Courier Service lorry drivers as they drive past.

5.25AM Arrive at the pool. Usually

 we'll play on the slides for the 

duration of the session, pausing 

occasionally for a dip in the jacuzzi. 

Now and again Ill play water polo 

with my chums.)*

*Dramatization, courtesy of the bluebirds.