I must apologise to my clamouring army of four readers for my hit and miss posting of late. I have contracted a dose of 'irregular bloggage' (from the latin ad ideas absentia) - which sounds like something a good dose of Bran Flakes would solve but alas, no, it's not that easy. Pesky fripperies like work and other annoyances like sleeping and rudimentary personal hygiene demands have left me with little time in the day for mooing off copious amounts of shite here on the wide wild internuts.
That's why I'm sat at my laptop at 11.30 of a Friday night explaining away my absence to anyone who cares, while decent right-minded folk are out getting plastered and earning an ASBO or two if it's a good night.
In truth I always knew this day would come; the day when I would start posting about my inability to post. I've seen genteel apologias like this on other blogs and vowed it'd never happen to me but I knew, deep down, that irregular bloggage would come and get me and so it has proved. I think I'm hanging about with Radge too much. I caught blogging urge (from the latin illusionus di importens) off him in the first place so it's only logical I should catch irregular bloggage as well I suppose (Radge blogs in accordance with lunar tides or something, I think). He actually asked me to go for a pint the other night but I was afraid of contracting all his many, many, many other diseases as well so I made up an excuse about needing to clean the ferrets out of my bellybutton. I'm off to his birthday bash tomorrow night, a rare enough excursion for me into Dublin city centre; sufficiently so, in fact, that I might even get a blog out of it.
Meanwhile I am mostly happy that yer man behind the campaign to bring back Cavan Cola paid a visit to Moo-Dog. This is confirmation that I now move in circles of influence with men and women of calibre.
Night night. We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, as Vera Lynn used to say but then again, her blog wasn't up to much either.
6 moos and woofs:
Aha! So you HAVE noticed that we groupies have noticed you're not blogging with your usual gusto.
You had me worried enough to post about our long-lost Cavan Cola and even say 'boobies' to get you moving, you think we don't CARE?
Some ideas for when you're stuck:
How many holes/slits/empty spaces can a Cavan man's clothes take, before becoming NON-clothes and coming to the attention of the Gardai? (I have a neighbour trying to find out)
Why do men do all their Christmas shopping at 11pm Christmas Eve at the local petrol station AND expect their wives WON'T NOTICE...
or cry?
'Tis the season after all: time for Christmas rants and raves, and with the time being limited, you want to start early. Worst Christmas present ever? Best memory? Most frightening relative you'll have to spend the day with?
You're my daily laugh and my Cavan-is-MAD-antidote: don't leave me hanging!
Well at least your Friday night was more productive than mine. Although the morphine was pleasantly trippy! It'll come to you Moo, it'll come . . just think "What would Jesus blog about?"
Still suffering from bloggage blockage ????
I swear if he doesn't get up soon I'm going to start poking him with a stick...
*poke*
What about Irish driving, or pardon me, "driving"? There's a million blogs in that.
*poke*
Maybe someone should stop by his house.... ?
Ow!
Yes, I'm alive but am, alas, still all over the place. Ideas are no problem when you're as full of shit as I am, but 'work etc.' keeps getting in the way.
Something about cows, poo, arses or farting will be along before the midweek starts downhill for the weekend. Not to mention something on driving as I spent about 12 hours on the roads over the weekend!
Ah, so it's just as we all thought...
Hangover.
So Saturday was good, eh?
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