Head Rambles

Archive for July, 2007

The Messer

Grandad July 31st, 2007

I have always been known as a messer.

In my youth, it was probably a derogatory term because I always messed things up.

Now it just means I like messing around with things. Experimenting.

I’m not a gadget freak. I don’t have the latest mobile phone. I don’t have a plasma television. I don’t have an ipod [I'm still not sure what they are]. I don’t have satellite navigation in my car. Gadget freaks are a different [inferior] breed altogether.

I have just discovered a Digg button for my blog, so I have to try it out. If it irritates me, I’ll remove it again. If it works, I’ll keep it. But I like messing around with these things.

A couple of weeks ago, I joined Facebook. You know - just messing.

I messed around with it, and drop in from time to time. I still can’t get the hang of it. Maybe it’s my age. It’s a weird place. People have bought me drinks, and being a true Irishman I have bought drinks in return. Not a drop has passed my lips. I’m still sober. Someone turned me into a vampire. Strange. I tell people what mood I’m in, which alternates between Tired and Grumpy. What do people care what mood I’m in?

Facebook seems to be a world where the rules are slightly different. For example, you can go up to total strangers and poke them. Weird. The only person who ever poked me in Facebook was our K8. I hit her with the basball bat in return. There seem to be thousands of rooms where you can wander in. People ignore me when I do that [just like at any other party], because I don’t like to butt into other peoples conversations. So I leave again.

I have found a couple of old friends there. We had brief conversations, and went our separate ways. There are a couple of friends who keep writing on my wall [I said it was weird] so I write on theirs. That can be a little bit of fun. But I can send them e-mails anyway, or chat to them on Skype, so it’s a little bit pointless.

Unlike my Digg button though, I can’t leave. There isn’t an uninstall button. Once a member - always a member.

Yet another damn password to add to my ever growing list.

Neat and tidy

Grandad July 30th, 2007

I mentioned the other day that I bought Herself a Dyson.

While I was out, I thought I’d buy myself a little gift too.

We have this crazy setup where we are encouraged to install wood burning stoves [eco-friendly], but are outlawed from burning wood in the garden [eco-unfriendly]. And my humble little estate is on an age where, instead of planting things, it’s a constant battle to keep plants in check. So I spend a lot of time hacking at things and cutting branches. And, of course the weather does a good job too. So I have ended up with a massive pile of old branches. And I’m not allowed to burn them.

I went into the hardware shop and toddled over to the gardening section.

I found an assistant [that took half an hour].

“Do you sell munchers?” says I.

“Munchers?” says he. “Oh! You mean shredders?”

He brought me down to one of those hidden areas that always seem to contain whatever I’m looking for.

There were a couple of munchers there and they looked impressive.

The salesman started prattling on about how efficient they were and how powerful. It occurred to me that between manufacture, transportation and running costs, these beasts probably had a massive eco-footprint compared to a piddly bonfire, but I let that pass. He also raved about the safety features. He pointed out that there was a special yoke at the top to stop you accidentally putting your hand in.

“Suppose I left that yoke off?” says I.

“That would be very dangerous.” He looked at me like I were a fool.

“Would it grind up my arm?”

He just looked at me. But I’m patient.

“A simple question.” says I “Would I be able to put, say, a severed leg through it?”

He turned very green and fainted. Young people these days have no backbone.

I bought it anyway and towed it home.

I’ve been playing with it for a few days now. It’s brilliant. It chews up everything.

The mountain of branches is gone. And I discovered in the manual that it is great for shredding paper too. Better and better.

I have quite a few ~~invoices from arms dealers~~ old bank statements that I didn’t want to put in the bin so in they went.

So happy days are here again. Herself spends the day vacuuming the house, and I spend the day ~~destroying evidence~~ making compost.

Count your blessings

Grandad July 29th, 2007

Herself and her damned Lottery ticket!

The numbers came up and my heart sank.

What am I supposed to do with €16,000,000?

That is a stupid amount of money. Monopoly money.

What I’m dreading is the beggars and the begging letters. All those people whinging and whining about how hard up they are, and could I spare a few bob to help them on their way. Damned relatives!

Of course I’ll be the toast of the bar. Everyone will expect me to buy the drinks. Which I will, because I don’t want to appear mean. So I’ll become a mobile ATM, and nothing more.

I will doubtless have hundreds of new ‘friends’, fawning all over me , saying how great I am, when all they want is the handout. I will lose my old friends, because I will be constantly talking about my new lifestyle, which isn’t the old me.

Money changes people. I have seen it. It changes them for the worse. They become lonely and isolated. People don’t like them any more for what they are, but rather for what they have. The only friends they have are the ones they buy.

Too much money, and you know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

Herself and I had to save for holidays. Meals out were a treat. We couldn’t afford to go to exotic places and could only dream. Now we can afford to go out every night. We can afford to go anywhere, for as long as we like. Nothing will be special any more. We won’t appreciate the treats, because they will be mundane.

That ticket is a curse. It will remove any incentive to strive.

In fact, I’m going out now.

I’m going to give it to the first passing motorist who stops.

Poor bastard.

The Americanization of Grandad

Grandad July 28th, 2007

This site has been running for nine months now.

When I started, I wasn’t even sure what a blog was. I’d only read one or two.

It started as a joke, and a bit of an experiment. I’m the kind of person who likes to take the back off things to see how they work. I couldn’t take the back off a blog, unless I had one. Ergo Head Rambles.

In my first full week [last October], I got about 1,400 hits. Now I get an average of around 23,000 a week. Where do they all come from? what are they looking for? Why do they come?

I was messing around the other day, and I found a site that lists Irish Blogs listed in Technorati. Apparently there are nearly a thousand. And what is weird is that I am listed at number 42. And 43. I didn’t know I had two sites!

What baffles me is that there are a lot of great writers out there. There are the likes of Sarah Carey [who comes in at 30] and Kathy Foley [who isn't on the list for some reason] who write for the Sunday Times and the like. There are a lot of sites that are dedicated to a particular subject. So how did I end up up there? I just ramble. There are a lot of great blogs that I read [I won't list them for fear of hurting feelings] that are way down the list. Why?

There is one thing that really scares me though.

I have been playing around with Google Analytics [BTW, Google - I preferred your old site!!], and have come up with a hair raising fact.

From fairly early on, I started to get visitors from America. Maybe they like being slagged off? And numbers are growing. But last Friday was a turning point. I don’t know what happened. I don’t think I did anything special.

From last Friday, and every day since, I have been getting more American visitors than Irish ones.

Does this mean I’m turning American?

Is this the effect that blogging has, that they never told me about?

Do I have to develop an American accent? Do I have to start referring to people as “you guys” [*shudder*]. Do I have to bastardise [sorry - bastardize] my spelling? Do I have to fly the American flag from my chimney? Do I have to say ‘zee’, not ‘zed’?

So PLEASE could I have more visitors from Ireland and the UK? I don’t want to lose my identity.

I’m scared.

I’m proud to be Irish

Grandad July 27th, 2007

You learn something new every day.

Today I learned that I live in a “vile, sodomite country”.

I learned that I live under a “Satanic, fag-inspired criminal law”. I always had my suspicions!

Apparently we “eat each other’s feces”. I knew the government spouted a lot of shit, but I don’t think I ever ate any of it. Is that where I am going wrong?

We “urinate on each other” [I have seen that going on in Temple Bar after a good stag night, all right]

Best of all, we are all Celtic Fudge-Packers and Irish Rump Rangers. [No mention of Shamrock Rovers?]

I think I have also discovered why it’s raining so much.

You see - God hates Ireland.

Yes. It’s official. He even has his own website - www.godhatesireland.com

Wow!

We are the chosen ones.

-oOo-

P.S. to Rev. Phelps - we love you too.

P.P.S. Thanks Popeyemoon.

Sir Grandad?

Grandad July 27th, 2007

So Bertie is thinking of introducing an honours list?

Am I in with a chance? Who else is in with a chance?

Of course the first batch to go down will be the politicians themselves.

Lord Bertie of the Cayman Islands [or wherever the cash is stashed]?

Lord Gormley of the Gormless?

Harney becomes Baroness McDonalds?

Then we have to wade through the sports crowd, who have done nothing for Ireland except play with their balls, or run around a bit.

And there are all the people who have “helped Bertie out” financially. There’s going to be a lot of them. But a lot will be afraid of future tribunals, so they may keep quiet.

Eventually, he will get down to The Plain People of Ireland. You and me.

There will be Sir Grandad MBE [Master of the Blogging Empire]

Lord Twenty VC [Vicious C*nt]

Baroness Grannymar MP [Master Podcaster]

Dame Granny LTP [Lost The Plot, of course...]