Is this it? Is this really what it’s all about?

I definitely wouldn’t be Christmas’s number one fan but this year’s ranks amongst one of my worst ever. Christmas Eve, I was on my way home from work when I felt the first twinges of yet another cold, my third in as many weeks. By night time my temperature had shot up to 103F and the pains started. It was a full on flu. ‘Manflu!’ I hear all the ladies scream. Nope this was definitely a flu.

Sleep was impossible amid the feverish hallucinations brought on by the high temperatures. One of these hallucinations developed when I turned on my side and one foot came to rest on the other. Convinced that there was someone else, other than Lady Mc and meself, in the bed I kicked the offending foot away. Feeling that someone had kicked my foot I retaliated by kicking back and very soon a full on pitch battle between both my feet ensued that lasted for a good half hour. Not able to take any more I dragged myself from bed and crawled downstairs where I had to be physically restrained from cutting both my feet off with the bread knife. Lady Mc suggested a pair of thick wooly socks instead. She’s so clever.

Christmas Day, my temperature rose to 104F. I spent the day alone between bed and the sofa. I persuaded Lady Mc to go to her parents like she had planned for the day and not to stay at home with me. I make the worst patient. I hate to be pampered, I hate to be touched, I hate being asked questions and I hate being told to do things like, drink plenty of fluids and don’t wrap up so well. It was better for both of us that I was left alone in my feverish misery. 

Stephen’s day was much the same. Lady Mc was out celebrating her father’s birthday and I was again the better for being left alone. Towards night, the fever broke and as I waded through the sweat patches in my search for some dry land I slowly elbowed LadyMc out of the bed and into the spare room. She’s so understanding.

So, today, I find myself back at work. The ONLY reason that I’m here is that we operate a skeleton crew over the Christmas period and I said I’d work it so I HAVE to be here. I am the colour of a boiled shite, I have about a weeks growth, the only thing I’ve eaten since my breakfast on Christmas Eve has been two bowls of soup and three slices of brown bread, I’ve lost three quarters of a stone (five Kilos for my American readers) in weight and the next person that says to me, ‘Jaysus, look at you! You must have had a great Christmas!’, I am going to fucking kill them!

I can’t f*cking wrap Christmas Presents. Everytime I try it looks like a ball of shite. I can’t cut the paper straight or to the right size, the bits of tape are always too long and no matter how hard I try, what are supposed to be neatly folded ends look more like badly flittered dog ears. I usually just end up wrapping everything like a football with layers upon layers of paper and tape.

The Lady Mc is an expert and can do wonderous things with ribbons but I can’t ask her to wrap her own presents can I? I need help.

‘Gorf………….. Gorf……… GORF!!!’

‘Wha?.. Huh?’

‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah’

‘Well then, give us me beer.’

‘Oh, sorry’

The four of us, ManDonkey,Gorf, Giblets and meself are in McFools, Gorf has just returned from the bar and is standing at the end of the table with four pints in his hands, looking a bit perturbed.

‘What’s wrong with you, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?’

‘Nah, I’m grand.’

‘Was Auld Mick running naked around the bar again?’

‘No.’

‘C’mon what was it? McFool didn’t put the price of the beer up even though there was no increase in the budget, did he?’

‘NO, JAYSUS…. NO, Nothing like that!’

‘Then OUT with it man!’ 

‘Nurses’, he says.

‘Nurses?, we ask.

‘Nurses Party!’

Two words that strike fear into the hearts of committed men around town. If research was done, it would probably show that the prime cause of relationship breakdowns would be if a man was found, by his partner, to have been within half a mile of a nurses party.

Several nervous minutes pass. The door to the bar opens and four ladies emerge in fancy dress sipping cocktails. They take the table across from us at the other heater. Sevaral glances are exchanged with looks, the like of which I haven’t seen since I was surrounded and accosted by a pack of hungry dogs while wandering drunk around the back streets of Kathmandu at 2 o’clock in the morning, that ‘I’m going to eat you and you’re going to enjoy it’ look. 

After their cigarettes are finished they return to the warmth of the bar.

‘That was close.’

‘It was.’

Several more minutes pass.

‘OK, who’s up?’

‘Not me’, says Gorf, ‘I’ve just gone!’

‘And I’m married’, says ManDonkey

‘Giblets?’

‘No way!’

‘Why not, you’re single!’

‘Noooo way, not even with a catapult and a bucket full of mickeys would you get me in there!’

‘Bastard, so what’ll we do?’

‘Sarch’s?’

‘Sarch’s’

Sarch’s we agree and off we went.

(To be cont’d)

Dear Thur,

Pleade excuse Jack from the Blog today as he has a bit of a head code and his head is all bugged up. Wid a bit of luck he’ll be bedder in de mordin.

Signed,

Me Mudder.

I’ve just been tagged for a meme. The ever gracious Grandad at Headrambles has tagged me so of course I will oblige.

Here are the rules of the Meme:
Post on your blog . . .
+ Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
+ Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
+ Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
+ Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
That’s all there’s to it . . .
Oh and have fun.

Now for the facts:

1. I used to be a tree hugging hippie. I thought that property was theft, cars and mobile phones were devices of the Devil and I used to facilitate interactive ecological programmes for children at Sonairte, the National Ecology Centre. My, how all that has changed since venturing back in to the world of IT. I’m now a gun toting, petrol guzzling, gadget using capitalist swine.

2. A band I drummed with came 2nd in the Carling/Hot Press Irish Band of the Year Competition for two years running.

3. I will never do a bungie or a parachute jump. I’m not scared of heights, I just don’t want to jump from one attached to a giant knicker elastic or a silk table cloth. I am Mad JackMcMad not Psychosomatic Addict Insane JackMcMad.

4. I find that coming up with 7 weird facts about myself is a little more difficult than what I though it would be. I have done it before and can’t remember what I put down.

5. For a local Graffiti Art Festival I appeared on stage semi-naked and played the guitar while one of the exhibiting artists spray painted me.

6. I had completely forgotton about fact 5 until last Thursday when the bass player of the band reminded me.

7. I walk so fast that sometimes I trip over my own feet. The reason is that my feet are moving faster than the speed of light so that they travel back in time and are not where I expect them to be.

The Magnificent  Unfortunate Seven.

1. Why not right back at Grandad and pass this to his very funny daughter k8 the gr8 at Cackaloo.

2. Here’s to you Galwaywegian at The Galway Growl

3. You’re up CardioGirl at 19% Body Fat 100% Fun

4. One for the Road is next.

5. Lets have, all the way from Australia, Baino at Baino’s Banter.

6. Jesus, coming up with seven blogs is more difficult than coming up with seven facts about myself so I think I’ll leave it there.

Enjoy