Monday, October 31, 2011

Return of the Mad Irishwoman

I know what yer thinkin' "Christ, she had five days without a computer. Five days to interact with the people around her. Five days to piss off her family and her neighbors. Are there any survivors?"  You're right, it was a potentially dangerous situation and I knew it.  I felt that the best course of action would be to flee my native environs and piss off people in another county.  So I grabbed my camera, got in the car and headed South on rural roads in pursuit of the colours of Fall.

Other than a few close encounters with farm dogs, I managed to avoid contact with people and return intact.  Here are some of the photo's I took.

It's great to be back in Bloggerland and if I have time today, I'll visit Twitterland later.  I've been away too long and I miss all of you.

All photo's have my signature embedded and are source located to my camera.  Copy, crop, paste and the next time my computer breaks, I'll come to visit your neighborhood.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Winnie Wants a Vibrator

When non-Irish people encounter an Irishman for the first time, it tends ta scare 'em a bit.  Despite the fact that we occupy a small island and that times are almost always bad for us, we act like we're superior. In fact we pity the non-Irish people of the world simply because they're not one of us. 

One of the things that non-Irish people are not prepared for is how feckin' loud we are nor are they prepared for just how much we really cuss.  In my home, cussin' was the natural order of things. Bloody hell, feckin' shit, Jesus Christ, Christ Almighy, up yer arse, fer fucks sake and Holy Mary Mother of God what are ya doin' runnin' with those scissors ya eejit, wait till yer father gets home.  And all of this said at a volume so loud that the teacups in Scotland rattle in their cupboards. 

So today, I've got some videos to give you a look into the secret world of the Irish.

The first video is from a program called Mrs. Browns Boys.  My mum was born in 1931 and Mammy comes fairly close to what I grew up with.

The next video is of one of our comedians Tommy Tiernan.  This is an example of what you might get if you invite one of us over for dinner. 

And yes, we're that loud and we're that animated.  You would think that the look of shock on the faces of non-Irish people when we're being ouselves would tell us "Feck, I better tone it down, I'm scarin' these bastards with my Irishness."  It doesn't.  We assume that you're confused so we get louder. 

And now you understand why my yank/American neighbors tend to go the other way when they see me comin' down the street towards them.

By this time next year, I should be home amongst my own kind, where they can all treat me badly because after a year away I'm somehow less Irish than they are.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Because I Married a Yank....

Because I married a yank I've had to explore the cultural differences between us.  Let me explain at the outset that when I use the word yank instead of American, I do not mean that as an insult.  For us, it is merely a common slang term.  However, if he were to call me a mick, I'd be mad as hell. 

One of the ways we have sought to understand one another is through the exploration of the popular culture that existed during our respective formative years.  Today I'm going to talk about comedy.  Specifically comedy that was, for us, underground at the time we were exposed to it.  We were both born in the 1960's so bear that in mind when you listen to the video clips. 

Our definition of underground comedy is limited to albums, specifically those albums that were considered too offensive to be broadcast on the telly and were only available to us via a friend or through that "cool aunt" who enjoyed the idea of turning us into delinquents. 

The comedian that met the above criteria for me was Billy Connolly and for my husband it was Redd Foxx.  Despite being born on different continents and in different points in history, the two had at least one thing in common.  Neither felt welcome in America when they first began performing. 

When Connollys' Cop Yer Whack for It  was released in 1974, I was 12 years old and I had a brother who was 16.  He smuggled the album into the house and we listened to it after our parents had gone to bed.  For me it was the equivalent of doing illicit drugs. 

Redd Foxx began recording albums in 1956, but was never paid for them. His albums were underground and difficult to get when my husband listened to them in the 1970's.  There are still a lot of people in the States that have never listened to Redds' early stand-up and never appreciated the role he played in opening doors to African American comedians.  Richard Pryor had to stand on the shoulders of Redd Foxx to achieve mainstream popularity.

This is from Foxx's Jokes I Can't Tell on Television released in 1960.

When my husband and I compare the popular culture of our teen years, we discuss the political climate during those times as well.  After 22 years of marriage, we haven't run out of things to talk about.

Because Bloggerland and Twitterland consist of a wide variety of ages and cultures, I'd be interested to see what you think of these two comedians. If you're from the States, what do you think of Connolly?  If you're from the UK or Ireland, what do you think of Foxx. And if you're young, what do you think of comedy from this period?

If I don't get back to you on comments right away, it's simply because I'm busy today. Likewise I may get to some of your posts later than usual.  Have a fabulous Tuesday. 


Friday, October 14, 2011

Craig, I'm still a better drummer than you.

As all of you know, Craig Ferguson still owes me that fiver.  What you don't know is this.  I'm a better drummer than Craig.  Now for those of you who don't know who Craig is (some of my friends in Ireland and the UK), he played Listers Confidence in The Red Dwarf  and he co-wrote and starred in the film Saving Grace. 

Craig used to play in punk bands in the 1980's around Glasgow. Even then, I was a better drummer than him.  Today, Craig uses a double bass.  I'm so much better than him that I only need a single bass.  I can do more with one foot than he can do with two.

Further, Craig is only a few months older than me. Yet I look younger than he does.

So let's tally things up here Craig. I'm better at darts than you, I'm a better drummer than you and I'm better looking than you. And one more thing:

Craig, ya owe me a fiver. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

I've pissed off Norway

Now, I know what yer thinkin' "I can see how she could piss off a person, even an entire group of people, but Christ Almighty, an entire country?"  I know, that's exactly what I thought. You can imagine my surprise then when I answered the phone yesterday and heard my Cousin Margie at the other end.

"Jesus Christ Anne, this time you've gone too far."  she screamed in my ear.  "King Harald V got a hold of Bridey the other day...."  "Is this about Guido?" I cut her off midsentence.  "Of course it is you eejit." she screamed even louder. "You blogged about him and word got back to Norway.  You know how those people are about trolls Anne. Not only have you named him Guido, but you refer to him as your pet."  And this is what I said before I slammed the phone down in her ear "If it was a big deal, Bridey would have called me herself. So feck off Margie."

It appears as if I have some explaining to do. The people of Norway are upset because I call Guido here my pet. Now let me ask you this, "Have you ever tried to get a troll through customs?"  It can't be done.  The people of Norway are offended by his name as well and they want to know how I acquired a troll in the first place.  Apparrently they think I may have somehow stolen one of theirs. Well I didn't. Guido here came to me of his own accord.

When I was a wee girl of about six or seven, I used to play make-believe.  My favorite game to play was "I'm the Queen of Ireland"  And with the last name of O'Leary, this didn't seem too far-fetched.

I tore through our fields singing at the top of my lungs every day.  I sang songs like Four Green Fields, Johnny I Hardly Knew You and The Hills of Connemara. 

One morning, out of the cold North, there came a troll.

I jumped down off the back of my horse, who had eyes as blue as mine, and threw myself at the troll.  "If you're going to kill me troll, do it now" I shouted up into his face.  Well, that troll surprised me, he did.  He knelt down and looked me right in the eye and this is what he said.  "I've come a long ways to find the voice of the one singing those songs every day.  I've had to leave my home and I'm looking for a companion to suit me." I cocked my head sideways, taking the measure of him and asked "Where are ya from and why did ya have to leave?"  


With a look of fierce anger he said "I'm from Scotland and every time I upgrade my weapons, I have to pay a higher VAT."  Well I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I knew it meant taxes and that was a serious matter indeed.  "Do you have a name troll?"  I asked.  He leaned in close and whispered it in me wee ear.  Now, I can't tell you his name and you all know it.  There's power in a name and this troll needed my protection, so I promised to never repeat it.  Right then and there I decided to call him Guido. 

And that's all your getting out of me Norway.  So feck off.

All the pictures that have my signature are source located directly so my camera. Copy, crop, paste and next time a King or a President of a country gets pissed off at me, I'll give him your number.

Comments are open again. I've got some serious shit to attend to today and I need Guido at my side.

Monday, October 3, 2011

It's great to be Irish

Yesterday Ireland creamed Italy in the RWC.  The words "It's great to be Irish" could be heard like a roar that rumbled around the globe, waking many unfortunate non-Irish people from an otherwise sound sleep. 

Within minutes of the win, the fight over who the proudest Irishman in the country began.  Now, I'm stating for the record here that we all agree that the title ultimately goes to the family members of the boys on our team.  I'm talking about the rest of the country. And from what I hear the competition is fierce.

Why my own nephew Arlen, has taken the crown in County Cork, being as he's the only man still standing and he has held every ounce of his drink without sicking up once.  The boy is built like a tank I'm tellin' ya. So don't mess with him.  The finals will be held in Dublin, for those who are still conscious  And it's going to be a tough win, with O'Driscoll being a Dublin boy. 

Now there's a seperate prize for those Irish who are standing on foreign soil.  And I'm claimin' the crown in the States here and now.  My cousin Margie in New York thought she had won it, but I told her she hadn't.  A Kiernan has never bested an O'Leary in the past and nothing has changed on that score.  "Margie" I told her, "Spray painting O'Driscoll on the back of all the Saints statues at your parish Church did nothing to help us win.  It just bought you a ticket to hell."   And before slamming the phone down in her ear I said this "I'm calling your mother Bridey next week to tell her what you've done and it's me that will be sitting next to her on the plane to New Zealand next week. So feck off."

Next week we're playing against Wales and it will be an epic battle and I'm already working on the win. I'm flying in a full batalion of nuns to do the Stations of the Cross every day at St. Elizabeths over here,  a high mass is being held on Wednesday and Friday, I'm praying a decade of Rosaries, I've got candles lit around the clock and I've paid the Pope an undisclosed amount of money to say a private mass for us.  You can't compete with me Margie so give it up.  When we win next week, the crown will be mine again.

It's a great day to be Irish and I'm feeling sorry for you if your not.

All photographs have my signature embedded and are source located to my camera. Copy, crop, paste and I'll slap the shit right out of  ya.


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