Head Rambles

The main introductions were done by another famous person. Most of the people who have heard of him though are dead, because he killed them. I almost admire him for that.

This is him doing the introductions to the various awards, as filmed by Osama, at the back of the hall.

Normal service will be resumed..

Grandad March 3rd, 2008

I have a few regrets about Saturday night.

The first is that I didn’t get to meet more people. The only reason I went is because Bock the Bastard promised to buy me a pint and I couldn’t find him. Then he fecked off early to escape me.

The second is that those I did meet, I had difficulty hearing. Old age again.

The third, and biggest regret is that I couldn’t stay longer.

I can’t mention all the great people I spoke to, because my memory is crap [as you know], and I know I’d leave a lot out. But to every one of you - thanks. You made a great evening special.

I am sitting here in my comfy armchair, where I sit most mornings. It is a beautiful day outside. Blue skies, birds singing, sun shining, snow falling [snow? What the fuck?]. I’m tapping a few inane words on my keyboard and I don’t expect anyone to read them because they are my own little bit of amusement. So when I arrived on Saturday and people started coming up to me and saying they were dying to meet me, I was utterly bewildered. I read on a post yesterday that someone wanted to meet me, but they lost their nerve? What? What the hell is going on? I was the one who was nervous and bewildered. I was the one who was surrounded by the great and the good and I was nervous about approaching anyone. I was approached by people who said they read my blog but were too nervous to comment? What in the name of all that is holy is that about? Any time a comment appears on the site, I get a little glow. Someone is reading what I have written and have bothered to reply. I feel honoured.

I didn’t expect to win. I was very surprised to make the long/shortlist. I hadn’t even thought about what I might say, because it never occurred to me that I might have to say it. I sat down the back, because I knew I wouldn’t have to have quick access to the stage. I was more than gobsmacked when Rick called out Head Rambles. What the fuck were the judges thinking of? Were they on smack or something? Whoever you were - thanks! As I said yesterday, an Irish Blog Award means more to me than any other award. It really is the highest accolade.

I should also thank a few other people. [Yes - here comes the acceptance speech I didn't make]. For the first time in my life, I would like to thank Microsoft who sponsored the category, and Hosting 365 for the bottle of bubbly [which is being laid down for a very special occasion]. And of course Moviestar for the DVD player.

The nice little graphic on my sidebar was done by Robin Blandford [another winner!], and I will wear it with pride.

Another thing I will wear with pride is the lovely t-shirt given to me by Julie-Anne of Curious Tales. If I can get it back from Herself of course.

t-shirt
Elly and the gang reading my t-shirt,
or looking for my off-switch?

I have already thanked Damien and will continue to sing his praises. The other reason I wanted to go on Saturday was to shake him by the hand. At least I achieved that [are you listening, Bock?].

I would also like to thank whoever it was who had the idea of nametags with very small print. It gave me the opportunity to legitimately approach women and stare down their cleavage without embarrassment. Though I was caught once or twice staring down at a fine pair, only to realise that they weren’t wearing a nametag. Woops.

We would love to have stayed longer. Unfortunately, wee health problems meant we had to leave early. As it is, we overdid it and are going to suffer for the rest of the week.

But it was worth it.

Grandad in Wonderland

Grandad March 2nd, 2008

I woke this morning with a slight head on me.

I had had a very surreal dream - one of those dreams that you’d swear was almost real.

But as I sit here in the quiet of the mountains, with the birds singing outside and Sandy dozing on the window ledge, I know it was just a dream.

In the dream, I was at a huge party, and the party was full of bloggers.

We all know that bloggers don’t exist. They are just names and text that appear on computer screens, but they’re not real people. But in this dream, they had all come to life.

All the people at the party were crazy, and they had all named themselves after bloggers. There was even one very beautiful person who came up to me and whispered in my ear "I don’t exist", and then she vanished! It’s amazing what weirdness the brain can toss up.

In the dream, everyone was extremely friendly [which is another reason I know it was a dream]. There was music too, and George Bush [Dubya himself] was there. There was lots of handshaking and kissing and people calling out my name. I think there was a part in it where I made a short speech into a microphone. There was another part where I got undressed and I had my photograph taken. In another part of the dream I had to strangle someone and be photographed in the act. Was it a snuff-dream?

I hate waking up from dreams like that, because they are fun, and this was one of the best I have had since myself and Sharon Ní Bheoláin were stranded on an island.

I found the cause of the dream. There, on the kitchen table was an empty 1.5 litre whiskey bottle. I suppose one and a half litres of whiskey would induce some kind of reaction? I must cut back on my nightcaps.

whiskey

But beside it was a strange and lovely piece of glass, that has "Irish Blog Awards, 2008 Best Personal Blog" written on it. I don’t know where it came from. I know it has to somehow be part of the dream, because I could never actually win one of those, no matter how much I wanted to. It is the unattainable and ultimate accolade.

I’m going to sit and watch it all day. I know it will fade slowly and eventually disappear.

The glass will go first, and the last thing I will see will be just the lettering, before that too disappears.

Like the grin on the Cheshire Cat.

Grandad shuns the Irish Blog Awards

Grandad February 29th, 2008

I’m not going to the Irish Blog Awards.

I know I said I’d go, and I even wrote to that Mulley bloke and said I would. But I have better things to do.

I’ll be sending that other fella.

He’s a boring old shite. He’s half deaf and totally humourless, and he doesn’t even drink much.

He is a lousy social mixer and will probably try to hide in the corner somewhere. He’ll have Herself and K8 the GR8 with him so at least he’ll have someone to talk to. Until they get bored with him and bugger off to someone who can hold a conversation.

The only things I can say in his favour are that he looks a bit like me, and he does smoke a pipe. Apart from that, he’s a crashing bore. He is so dull, he doesn’t have a name. If you’re at the awards and see him, call him Grandad anyway. He’ll like that. It will give him an undeserved feeling of being someone.

The only other thing I can say in his favour is that he does all my typing for me.