Irish Blog Awards ’10
"You cant post that", cried Little Miss Manuel as I tweeted my arrival home to all and sundry.
"Eh, why not?"
"It...it's bitter"
"Aye but I am, I didn't win. Of course I'm bitter"
I hit the TWEET button despite her protests.
I think it's a fairly healthy reaction to my third failure in a row to capture a precious Irish Blog Award. I mean to react any other way is to belittle the achievements of the winners. And damn it they deserve their awards. Especially , fair play to her. I'm not ashamed to say I would have really bloody loved to have won one. Actually I would have killed to win one. Which is actually looking like a distinct possibility as a plan for next year. Or I could just try and get better at writing. Murder might be easier.
Obviously since I got home I have moved the clock on the mantelpiece back to it's original position and cancelled the order for a 100 gallons of trophy polish. Ho and indeed hum, another time maybe...
But all in all it was a tremendous weekend made so by tremendous people. It hadn't started like that though, oh hell no. It had been maybe 15 years since I had last walked on the cobbled streets of old Galway town, with it's old fashioned stag and hen parties complete with blow up dolls and men in mankinis, so it was good to be back. Being a "fancy wanker" as somebody called me I decided the best way to get to Galway would be to fly, I don't do buses. Buses are full of sneezy dirty people with an inability to stay the fuck out of my personal space. So obviously I flew.
But obviously there is no service via plane to Galway from Belfast, no that would be too sensible, so in the end I had to take a bus to Dublin airport where a nice woman made me remove various items of clothing and relieved me of my toiletries. And we didn't even get to hug after, sigh. The flight, if you can call it that, was a mere 25 minutes long. Honestly I take more time to pluck my nasal hair. I mean if I had been working on one during the flight I wouldn't have got it out by the time I got into the depressed taxi drivers car.
And he was depressed.
He spoke the common language of taxi drivers all woe is me and "I have to work 27 hours a day, 14 days a week just to make a tenner". Really? Because you've just fleeced fifteen nicker of me for a drive shorter than a flight from Dublin to Galway! But back to the "flight", it really was more of a good throw than a flight. The overhead bins on the plane cum transit van with wings gaffer taped to the side were so tiny small that the air steward had to store a lot of bags at the back of the plane. It really was like riding the bus but without the latent hostility and go fuck yourself attitude of the driver. But it was worthwhile and I thoroughly recommend it. But if you do fly you should balance out the carbon thingy. The Green folk say you should plant a tree or two. With that in mind I will plant two maybe three daffodils first thing on Monday. Or Tuesday, my schedule is rather full and I am rather lazy.
Galway was great though. The people were warm and hospitable and the town charming. But it has a problem, a problem that may very well determine whether or not I visit again. Galway has an infestation of hippies the like I have not seen since I got caught up, by accident, in a carnival parade one afternoon and ended up playing bongos for two days straight. They are everywhere. At one point whilst enjoying a coffee outside a seemingly normal coffee shop I found myself surrounded on three sides by white men with dreadlocks. Nothing says, 'kill me now' than the sight of white men with dreadlocks. The tools. But it got worse, so much worse and I don't mean when one of the white men with dreadlocks turned to me and said, "here man, have you got any skins?". I nearly didn't hit him with the empty chair to the left.
No it got worse when those most dreadful of cunts the hipsters started appearing. There they were all beardy and lank ,like old rhubarb with hair, flouncing about like they didn't have a care in the world. The bastards. One tribe or nest of hipsters, as I prefer to call them, even had little hipster children bedecked with their own oversized glasses and poorly co-ordinated clothing. Can you imagine the horror of such a thing? Little children born into a hipster household, what chance of a good life do they have? The cynicism will kill them before the veggie burgers and soy milk will.
But funnily enough after the gin and chat started I hardly noticed the hippies or the dreadful hipster at all. How odd. It was a great night, the gin was good and the company even better. But now I must rest and hope not to dream of the precious...my precious....not my preciousssssss though...
Up the blog awards and all who sail in her!
See ya next year!
I’m sorry you didn’t win, but at least you saved money on the trophy wash?
You’re lucky that gin makes Trustafarians (white guys with dreadlocks and trust funds) invisible to you. It just makes me want to tell them how stupid they look.
Heh, cheers Sassy….it was good times even with such a high hippy to normals ratio…
On hind sight I dont think its bitter wtf people three years! Susposse it has saved me from having to go to Ikea to buy some type of fancy cabinet for an award to be placed on!!As for hippes could live without them all the same too!
Where’s the pics? Has anybody got any pics?
The reason you’re not winning is that no prizes at the blog awards ever get won by Northern prods.
As if it’s not bad enough you not being one you’re now suffering discrimination because people think you’re one.
That’s a double kick in the balls and no mistake.
Change the title of the blog to “Micky the Waiter” or “Manuel who originally came from down South” and it’ll be in the bag for 2011.
hahahaha….yeah but we are still going to Ikea right? Loves you…
Not Twitter: aye but Slugger won and I’m pretty sure there’s a few Prods in there…no White Rabbit won it fair n square…well done her…
Thank you Manuel – that means a lot! It was really great to meet you at the weekend and I hope you had a good one.
P.S I actually thought Galway was full of Goths! Maybe it was just where I was drinking…
Goths, lovely tame Goths…oh how I wish I could have gazed upon them and remember the old days…the happy days…
Rabbity meeting you was a highlight for me…well that and the 25 minute flight…heh
Bloody hell. I thought you could have maintained the bitterness for longer than that.
You need to have a word with Grandad.
Ever considered starting up a beauty blog?
I should expect more beatings this week than normal. **shakes fist at judges**
I am a beauty blog…ger…ha! Gin tempers the bitterness…
oh but very little masks the tears…
The Cousin: oh aye wee man, you’re deed….now make me tea…
They seemed to loiter around the Roisin Dubh which happened to have the most perilious climb to the toilets I have ever encountered. Many were killed.
Aww same here! You were the person I was really looking forward to meeting! The Boyfriend is a big fan and he was pretty pleased that you are exactly as he thought you would be in real life. He says he’s sorry for eating all the sausages.
Am I wrong in thinking that Sweary was there?
25 minutes? Sure it takes about 25minutes to take off! Hopefully they’ll have the awards in Belfast next year.
No, Sweary was there, swearing and being a hoot…goths don’t loiter, they are too cool to loiter. They exist, they observe, the occasionally gaze but loiter, no, not loiter…
Belfast would be super aces….but I also like getting away…i’m conflicted…
Perilious? …PERILOUS. Is it clear I haven’t slept in a few days? I’m definitely flying like you the next time. None of this 8 hours in a car crap!
I ignored that on your behalf…yes flying, it’s the only way for bloggers to travel…!
Thanks *red*
hippies, hipsters and goths – OH, MY! the only thing missing? pop-collared douchebags and douchebagettes with soft-serve hairstyles…
here’s to another great year of blogging for you – awards be damned!
obviously you were robbed. Perhaps by the 15 women queueing at reception wearing badly customized “Sex in the City” tee-shirts with caricatured version of “Bride To Be” – the real version of which was wearing a pink sash stating same.
Galway was an eye opener to me too – and I’ve been to Killarney!
oh, and you left out the statue of Oscar Wilde sharing a bench with Stalin. That deserved some chair throwing.
Commiserations. Better luck next year. xx
Was rooting for you pal. Three years without a gong is fucking criminal.
Seriously.
you are always a winner to me manuel 4th time will be the charm
Oh no not again. Commiserations, and I didn`t know that Ikea do trophy cases, who`d a thought it?
Dry yer eyes lad I’ve been at this about 6 weeks longer than you and no gongs, I’d rather have money to be honest. Either you weren’t good enough or the so-called judges who know nothing about blogging obviously pulled a revolution.
I guess it all boils doon to the tastes of the judges, always next year to get yer knickers in a twist about.
Galway has a University which a relative of mine attends so I would guess there would be a lot of hippies just like in the Holylands.
When was the last time you were in the Holylands? Its full of hollyoaks wannabe’s with hatchback cars & macbooks. Students are no longer hippys. (They are still wankers tho!)
I wanted you to win. I also wanted me to win. Alas, we are both, somewhat officially, losers. Next year, we’ll storm the stage if we don’t win… or if I’ve had more booze before it all starts. You in?
Good to read an honest reaction to not winning (have always thought the sentiment, “It’s just a honour to be nominated” to be bullshit). In any case I really enjoy reading your rants and would happily give you a trophy if I had one to give!
It was lovely to see you!
Poor wee love – you weren’t in my category for judging, otherwise I would have made it my mission to get WDF declared the winner. On the upside, the beyootiful Beaut.ie girlies won the Grandy Pricks which made us all rather happy in our nappies.
p.s. Did you ever switch to Slimline after?
Thanks for the gin, motherfucker. And not laughing too loudly at the big screen in the bar afterwards.
y’all are a winner on THIS side of the pond, sugar! xoxoxoxo
Anyone who possesses eloquence enough to describe the appearance of a certain class of people as being like old rhubarb with hair is a winner in my book. Would you like me to cut out an award and send it to you? I’ll be doing one for myself, so it’s no bother.
You’re a winner in our books, without a doubt.
Eeeekkk!…!
It’s all very well saying you’re not ashamed you little bollix, but howsabout those of us who wagered a weeks drinking money on your Norn Irn arse winning the fecking award?
It’ll all have to be paid back mind, the boys will be around first thing in the morning.
Commiserations Manuel. You deserve a blog award, I was rooting for you or WR to win the best humour catagory, I probably visit hers and yours more than anyone elses (except my own). All I can say is that if you give me someone’s address (not WRs) I can go on the rob and you can still have an Irish Blog award on your Mantelpiece.
I bet there was no tips either, meanies.
cheers folks…@Twenty, hardest thing i’ve ever done…
Bitter is the new black, so I’ve heard. Okay, I totally lied. I didn’t hear anything. Commiserations, though.
What was on the big screen?
Cheers Fat Sparrow…
Rabbity: eh? which big screen? Oh, I know….football….his team drew and mine won…was confused there…heh
Cheers! *curiosity satisfied*
Twittering and watching footie, a geezer/nerd night out alround. The last time I was in the Holylands Jesus was hangin round with the 12 crusties.