A 3 -in1 please...

Hmm... today is officially Halloween, but I'm in bed at last after a night on the town, with the remnants of face paint on my countenance. Where to begin? The beginning I guess...

So I began the night by getting into the portion of my costume that I could wear in public, and awaiting my mate Lynchface. (real name. He has cruel parents.) Lynchface wanted to see the play that Mud is in Sálóme (pronounced Shallow-May). He arrived, and I hopped into his Toyota Yaris, a go-kart of a car. We sped along the road (within the legal limit) but still got caught by the cops. Y'see, as we approached the theatre, I pointed out a parking space on one side of the road, which Lynchface began to turn towards. HOWEVER! The EEJIT of a man decided to swerve in the OPPOSITE direction to park in a different space that wasn't even 3 metres closer to our destination. Thankfully, an unmarked Garda Car was behind him, and informed him to "learn how to youse the indicathor!" To which my manly friend replied "Oh God I'm so sorry!!" with a slight quiver in his voice. The gimp.

Onwards to the play! We watched, and I understood more of it. Although that might be because I saw the darn thing last night, and there was no daring in the acting troupe to follow my suggestions to jazz it up with juggling snowmen. The acting was amazing once more... Herod was more vicious and creepy, Herodious more sharp and bitchy, Eoin was preachier, and the narrators (Two male court jesters who seemed to have a sordid little affair going on... seriously, the play was as bad as Desperate Housewives) had become more absurd and funny. Salome smelled though.

"Smells bad" - God

After the play, I headed to one of the many locals where a costume night was being held. I looked like this:

"My Masterpiece, before costume" - God

The costumes were interesting sometimes, but others notsomuch. (Which is one word now. I've decided.)
The girl that won was a smurf. She got €200 for her efforts. She wore a wig, white clothes and scrubbed blue all over herself. She defeated my other friend who looked like THIS:

"Man I must've been eating shrooms when I made that!...Oh wait, SHE did the zips? Oh now that's cool." - God

How a lazy smurf defeated her, I'll never know.

As that pub drew to a close, I turned my attention instead to another "old manish" pub, but my favourite one ever, Heraghty's. The cast from the play, including Mud, were there, enjoying each others company and relieving the stress of acting. I sat and was merry. They are all a loverly bunch, and I'd love to work with them myself someday. But not in the role of Salome. Coz drag is just ew. (anyone in Heraghtys that night, knows what I'm on about)

As in tradition in "old manish" pubs, a bout of singing came upon us. One by one the cast sang, and slowly the rest of the pub joined the crew, so it became one large singing session. Now, if you haven't been in an "old manish" pub singing session, let me set the scene. Everyone is drunk. I didn't have alcohol that night, but I have in the past, and I most certainly felt drunk there and then. As it was an IRISH session, the songs were of loves lost, emmigration and depression. (Surprisingly enough, none of the famine arose) so my turn came. I said to myself "I'll do something different. So I did this.

It wasn't very well received. Eek. I died laughing, few replied with giggles, most looked on scornfully.... Ah well. I'll learn next time to sing about how depressed I am now that I live in Australia and "my love digs spuds in fields of woe"

Shallow-May

So I traversed across the mighty plains of the Midlands of Ireland, to witness a dear friend dance in frilly red veils. It was an experience I tells ya. Not only was I witnessing the closest thing to a sister I'll ever have cavortin' on stage, but I also had to sit through her seduction of a Holy Man! Holy as in, there was a hole in his burlap...apron...vest...thingy...

Ahem.

This was an intriguing play. Bloody. Dramatic. Sexy. (Never tell my friend I said that.) But it was also in Irish. It shames me to realise how not-so-fluent I am, but I was overjoyed when I heard and understood the Irish word striapach. (Click for meaning) So much for a potential teacher being able to speak the language he'll be teaching.

I'd love to write more on the play, but I'mma gonna be there tomorrow night too, after a wee get-together with the aforementioned friend tomorrow. Oh, and it's also 1.44AM. I needs me some sleeps.

The Poster for my mate's production of Salómé. She was the whore in it.

So it took this...

"Conor, you should blog, you always can rant about stuff!" ~ David Kilgannon

The above quote is true and accurate. I swear!

I always had intended to "blog" (is it a verb yet? Actually, is it an official WORD yet?) as I always felt it was something that I could really get into. (you know, because my online presence isn't strong enough already. Youtube, twitter, secondlife, 4 email accounts, bebo, myspace.... If there's a site that you need an account for, I'm there. If not, the site is not worth having an account for.)

I just thought it intriguing that it would take a "Digital Learning" class to hoist me onto the proverbial Blogging pedestal. How funny.

I assume that this blog will go in many various directions. I might have small little series or something... Sure we'll see. We'll all take a journey into the unknown.

I'm going to be taking my OWN journey into the unknown for the next while... "What's the unknown!?" I hear you cry. Why, Movember of course! (click the link to donate directly to m'mo.)