Real Irish Butter

Why thank you sis! Tastes like past Christmases, summers off school and family holidays.

Om Nom Nom Nom.

GBM

The Back of Beyond

I'm am trying to work on a solution for my lack of time for Blogging. I hope you guys have not given up on me yet. I reckon it will be the new year before I'm fully set up and settled. I was hoping to do a little on my trip back to Ireland but wouldn't ya know the hotel we stayed in (which was fab by the way) only had Wifi at reception. Ah well, time was spent connecting with Husband and Family.

The place had a few nature walks set up around the hotel so Husband and I decided to jog them together. It made for some interesting and beautiful photos. Talk a look at Husband below.

Talk soon

GBM

I Seen Beyonce in Midlands Ireland...

...she looked a little flat.

Take it away Cazwell.

GBM

You Know You are Home When....

....you are serenaded to sleep by the sound of a cow and not the usual car alarms.

Ahhh country life.

GBM

Ginger Blog Family's Wordlings

Eh so this pic doesn't really have anything to do
with this post. I just like it is all (I may have
forgotten the connector cable for my camera, grr)

Ginger Blog Fans, have any of you all had this similar happenstance when you all were growing up? Did any of you suddenly realise that expressions, phases or word-blurbs that are common knowledge within your family and family home, when used outside your familial sanctuary suddenly fall completely flat? These expressions, that you in your inoffensive youth truly believed were imbedded in the subconscious of the general public, when used are met with faces of blank? 

Welcome to my reality people, it took some time to adjust and figure this all out to be honest, though now I tend to adopt a strategy of ‘if they don’t know what I’m talking about they’ll get me eventually, fook dat sheat, I’m not changing’. I think one of my earliest memories of one of these Ginger Blog Family specific expressions is when my Ma and Da used to refer to me as a ‘Ninnyhammer’(or should that be hyphenated, Ninny-Hammer? One never does know with made up words). I believe the word was used to denote when my behaviour was being construed by my Parentals  as rather silly, maybe loosely similar to the word Nincompoop (yay, synonyms for non-words, I’m impressing even myself here). I recall the outrage and injustice I used to feel at this outrageous accusation. How very dare they. Though now with a few years on me I know there are far whose things to be called in this life (like a soggy biscuit or a Kardashian). So I guess I’ve forgiven the Ginger Blog Parents for Ninnyhammer. 

Artist Impression: Not actual GBD

Another memory I have is of a Ginger Blog Da ‘shutupem’, an expression used by our father for when either or all, of myself and the Ginger Blog Sisters (I have three) were horsing about too much. If my father wanted us to shut up, stop fooling about or stop tearing each others hair out he would utter the immortal line ‘Give it over’. May not seem that bad to you dear readers but it was the way he said it, his tone even, that signified he meant business and also it sort of became a single word in his bellowing, a ‘GIVEITOVER’ if you will. We all knew once uttered it was time to stop acting the maggot (is that another one?). 

When Ginger Blog Sister III came back from college and decided she didn’t hate me any more and also decided to be funny, ‘Theresa’ suddenly became our new word du jour to literally describe or refer to any female human being. We had replaced ‘yer one’ (masculine of ‘yer one’ is ‘yer man’ for those who don’t speak Oirish) with ‘Theresa’ and in particular coined the phrase ‘Good girl Theresa’ implying you girl, what ever it is you have done has pleased the Ginger Blog Family. ‘Good girl Theresa’ was used to congratulate the female members of the family (of which there always seemed many) on a job well done, GBS II washed all the dishes then ‘Good girl Theresa’.  It also was shouted at the TV to any female, horses in the Grand National a bet had been made on, when the right date was chosen by the woman on the TV show ‘Blind Date’ (a personal favourite of my mother's) or say when Sonia O’Sullivan was running for Olympic Gold for Ireland (our Sonia only ever did manage the Silver for us. Toilet issues, bless). ‘Good girl Theresa!’

GBS III also managed to help coin another one, not herself now, more by her behaviour, for this particular sister had an aversion to any household chores whilst growing up so adopted the attitude of ‘if I do them badly then I won’t be asked to do them again’. Yet my mother grew wise to her ways and in response to her half assed attempts at sweeping the floor uttered the fantastic ‘Stop throwing your arse at it’ to my sister and thus a phenomenon was born in our house. Huzzah mother, ‘Stop throwing your arse at it’ is possibly my favourite GBF expression. And you all wondered where I got it from?

Maybe this type of thing was not prevalent in your family home but I do know for a fact this goes on in other families. A close friend of our family introduced us to her family expression of ‘Burny poppy’ used to dissuade childer from touching something hot like a fire range or hob ring and also used to warn a child to blow on they’re incoming food to cool it, as it is ‘Burny poppy’. When visiting the home of my best friend from primary school as a child all words considered vulgar were not allowed to be spoken in those walls. To my embarrassment when I used the word ‘fart’ I was quickly corrected and informed that I should refer to all gaseous expoldus from anus as ‘cracks’ from now on.  Quite the traumatic experience for a six year old indeed.

Not Husband or is it?

Finally even Husband was at it in his home and coined an expression of his own when he was a child. Hmmm should I tell you this dear readers? Well here goes, I’ve started haven’t I? Husband used to refer to number two on the potty as ‘doing his no-nos’. If you look past any negative connotations, it’s kinda adorable.      

So what say you readers, got any of your own to share? 

I’d love to hear them.

GBM

Homeward Bound

So I'm flying back home to Ireland today, back to see my dear family and friends, back to the countryside, to the midlands, to the bog, to more pubs than shops, to green, to bogger accents, to Irish bacon, to Mammy's cooking and to the Craic.

I'll be in Ireland for the next 11 days and whilst I hope to do a spot of Blogging there, I suspect my Internet access may be slightly intermittent.

Talk to you all soon.

GBM

Musings from my Mammy

Not my Mammy, my one is less criey

Actual conversation with my mother when I was back in Ireland. The subject of my abilities on the soccer pitch came up.

Mammy: 'I remember watching you out in that field playing football when you were just a wee boy'


GBM: 'Oh yeah Ma?


Mammy: 'Oh yes, I used see you run in the opposite direction of the ball'


GBM: 'And you were surprised when you found out I was gay'


Mammy: 'Ah now, you were too young then to know yourself, how was I to know. I just thought you'd grow out of it'


GBM: 'Never did, did I'


Mammy: 'I guess not'


Irish mammies, you gotta love em. I know I do mine

GBM

Friends like These

First wine of many consumed that day

When you have particular sense of humor, repetitive, juvenile, filled with vulgarity and just verging on slightly off kilter, there is a potential risk of you not finding common ground with people and finding friends that actually get you, especially if you come from a very small town like I did. That's why I feel so fortunate to have quite a large group of friends the majority of which I had met when I was still in secondary school (High School for my North American readers).  When I think back on it now what bonded us together was our differences, we were all a little weird, a little strange, with that same dark, off kilter, slightly juvenile sense of humor. We shared a love of music and alternative lifestyles, of not following the path expected of us and of getting together to just laugh our asses off, with, at and because of each other. It was hard to leave them behind but what I know and love about this mutually appreciating band of merry weirdos is the fact that we can go for days, months, years even, without seeing each other and pick up exactly where we left off. Let us meet and let us laugh. I tend not to name names or talk about anyone on my Blog without their express permission so the rest of this post will be focused on Blog Bomb but I just want the rest of my gang to know how much they mean to me and that I couldn't ask for a better group of friends to be fartarded with.

Blog Bomb and I met about 6 years ago and there was an instant connection, we could spend periods of almost 24 hours in one go in each others presence laughing at each others stupidity and childish behavior. No one else shares my love of making up terrible dance moves to even more terrible pop tunes. We share a love of absolute repetition, of playing our new most favorite you tube video or cheesy song du jour 150 times in a period of 7 hours. Our song of the weekend this time was 'Move This' by Technotronic.

  Not original video, fan made one with people doing silly dancing, feels more fitting:

We actually played this song in a hotel when they stopped playing their own tunes and began dancing around our phones with enjoyment, much to the general disapproval of the hotel guests. Who were we hurting? It takes a true kindred to enjoy a silly hat montage with a giant  Man-Boy with absolutely no shame or embarrassment, in fact with absolute gusto.

Our joy and excitement at being back in each others (and the rest of my posse) presence lead to maybe one too many drinks being consumed. It takes a true friend to get you out of a nightclub early on in the night before you lose your last shred of dignity (the key indicator being that we kept ending up in a giggling pile on the floor whilst practicing our dance moves, got the knee bruises to prove it). Time to leave, home to bed and asleep before 12 o'clock. And moreover it takes a true friend to let you know that whilst an outfit maybe be sliming it ultimately clashes with your hair (actually Husband's words but he's a true friend too and one of the best).

I didn't buy it in the end

Ahh precious memories.

GBM

Back to my Shire

Bit of Sparch, anyone?

Back to the homestead this weekend, back to my green isle. It's a funny one, my mother decided to text me a bit of a warning the other day.

Ma Text: 'Just to let you know, it is lashing here, hope you are prepared for it'


Ominous yesh? Lashing, for those not in the know would be akin to 'raining like a mother fucker' however my mother delicate flower that she is, would never say any such vulgarity. So where did I come from then eh?

I wasn't thinking about it much before she texted me but I guess I wouldn't have been prepared, no. It might come as a bit of a shock to the system given the great weather here. That said Zurich isn't always sunny but after it rains it does tend to clear for a couple of scorchers of days. It's doesn't matter as I'm not coming back for the weather, I'm homeward to see my rag-tag bag of weirdo friends who are ah-mah-zing and my lovely family. Ain't no rain-showers are going to dampen my spirits.

My guest contributor Blog Bomb will be putting me up for the few nights in my old homestead of Galway. No doubt we will come up with some increasingly juvenile crapulence for the Blog together, post on my return.

Us as kids, you'll be happy to know that the wristbands
are no longer part of my wardrobe, thank Husband

Can't wait, let the madness begin.

GBM

My Paddy Pinings: 2. Irishisms

So another thing that I am kind of missing at the moment are those expressions, phrases even that people use day to day that are altogether inherently Irish. I've mentioned a few before in some of my postings such as 'shift' (to make out or snog someone) and 'fuck off' (used in a non aggressive way, similar to Americanism 'get out' or 'shut up'). I've been using a few occasionally in Switzerland and all I seem to be getting is confused looking faces. I'm in two minds as to weather or not I should just beat them out of my speech and accept defeat or keep at it with each new person I meet and beat these Irishisms into them. I've picked up a few over the years some of which are used throughout the green isle whilst some are specific to a particular county or area in Eire. So here you go in no particular order are some of my favourites with their translation thrown in too for those not in the know.

'You're an awful bollox' translates to 'You are quite cheeky sometimes but I like it'

'Jaysus, look at yer one, she's lost an awful sight of weight' translates to 'Look at her over there, hasn't she become very thin?'

'Aw I was in the absolute horrors last night' translated to 'I was very drunk last night, I have little to no memory of the event, anything could have happened including, vomiting, aggression and possible self urination'

'She'll carry buckets' translated to 'She would make a suitable mate as her stature is one that looks strong, plenty of labour can potentially be done by said woman'

'Stop throwing your arse at doing the washing up!' translates to 'You are not doing a very good job at washing those dishes, please put your back into the job at hand'

'Drive her like you stole her' translates to 'Please increase the acceleration of your vehicle , you are going quite slow'

'Don't mind her, she's nothing but a geebag' translates to 'Please do not listen to that woman's remarks, she's is actually a bag of vaginas'

GBM

No, You're a Spar

Look what my nearest food buyie place is:

Shove it under your tree

Awww sure it's like I've never left Dublin (which has been under an outbreak of Spars and Eurospars, like a bad venereal disease). Wandered in expecting the same usual overpricedness and was pleasantly surprised. Only in Switzerland is your local Spar the cheaper alternative.

I Like!

GBM