- Still single. By choice. Girls are proving useful and thoughtful allies in this regard, giving me a very wide berth and stridently refusing to have anything sexual to do with me during this period of self-denial. I attempt to fall off the wagon very frequently but those girls, samartians that they are, just scoop me up, pop me back on it and hit the horse a fearsome wallop on the arse to keep me on the path of righteousness. Then they run off in the opposite direction. Very decent of them.
- I am now a fully qualified and certified and official English Language Teacher. Yup. I passed the course. Never mind that everyone passes the course, I remain immensely proud of my achievements. "Terence McDanger, ELT. I sound like a toasted sandwich but I'm pleased to meet you anyway."
- Moved back to Cavan and back to Dublin again, now living in a house share arrangement with the soundest couple in the world, ever. She cooks me dinners. She had me at: "Hungry?". I love them. They love me. And we shall continue our blissful lives in this, our house of love and harmony, until they catch me stealing their DNA as I attempt to clone them and keep them with me, always. Or when I reveal my bagpipe fetish. Yeah. It'll be the bagpipes where we come a cropper I shouldn't think.
- Sold my lovely car and bought an old shitheap to keep me mobile in a cheaper, if markedly slower fashion. Kindly neighbours, no doubt seeking the approval of me, the new guy on Wysteria Lane, find and leave the fally-offy bits of it on the doorstep for me, in the manner of cats with dead sparrows. But it just took me to Waterford for a weekend's boozing and it made it there and back in one piece, and it's only marginally more surprising that I did likewise. The bonus is, I think it runs on the alcohol fumes from your boozy breath so it even saves on fuel.
- I am still striving manfully to get the hell out of this country. I remain trenchantly indifferent to current affairs but even I know things are a bit shit so I've applied for a teaching position in Japan but won't know about it for ages. In the meantime, I've thrown my hat in the ring for a job as Bela Doyle's stunt arse on Fair City. They used to use his screen daughter's face but viewers started to notice, hence the, giggle, opening for a stunt arse.
- I haven't changed a whit since I last blogged. I'm still a nefarious little bollix with designs on world domination, and also I still laugh at the stupidest things. For instance, I saw a roadsign for a town called Bunclody over the weekend and it suddenly struck me how sexy-sounding a place it is, because it sounds rather like unclothe me. Oooooh, take me to bed and Bunclod-me now, big boy. Bunclody me real good. And then take me down to Nobber in County Meath.
- Listen, reader, I feel like we've had a really bad row and there's been this massive gaping fissure in our relationship and for the last few weeks I've been hanging around too proud and afraid to apologise and put this thing back on track. I genuinely feel bad about not blogging. Like, literally, because this place is like an emetic for me, it keeps me clean inside. When I don't write here some poor bastard has to listen to me issuing forth with my nonsense in pubs instead, and mine is not the sort of shite to be listening to when you're out for a few. "Here, what do you think of bluebottles, they're hoors aren't they?" says I. "Fuck off now Terence," says he, unsheathing a Samurai sword. "Just fuck off. And shut up about wasps and all."
- I'm singing a lot lately. To the amusement of myself, the annoyance of others, in front of the mirror et cetera. Radge is my biggest fan and he loves it when I sing Tooraloora to him and tickle him behind the ears, making soothing whale-mating sounds. Try as I might though, I can't achieve my dream and sing Old Man River like Paul Robeson did. I just can't, you know, get under those low notes. The best I can manage is an unpleasant likeness to the bastard lovechild of Animal off the Muppets and Bryan Adams. All things told, I'm really shite at being Paul Robeson. Pleasantly, I do a good impression of Chewbacca from Star Wars however.
- There isn't really a whole lot else to say. It's not much after two months' sterility I know, but at least it's better than me turning out one of my epic War and Peace efforts that take up three pages. Anyway, for those of you still checking this page, I hope you're all doing well. For those of you not still checking this page, it's largely irrelevant what I wish for you as you won't see it, but I still hope you're doing well anyway. Pip pip now.
Coming of age
2 hours ago
22 moos and woofs:
Pfffffttttt.
God I've been left waiting MONTHS to say that.
:-(
As my plaintive "I wish I could sing like you, Terence' from Saturday night will attest.
I'm momentary speechless.
It's all right. It'll pass in a moment.
And to think I was actually "thankful" for Radge at Thanksgiving and mentioned I'd also be thankful if you ever posted again.
But if I thank you now, nearly a month later, that might go to your head and float you over to say...Japan, where you'd forget us again faster than you could say "Sayanora, Baby!" {Not that I think you'd speak like that after earning a degree}.
Okay. Yeah, I'm glad you're back. But you were on the cusp of getting a lot of coal from Santa. Only Susan and I failing to write a tell all to the North Pole prevented such. But I think you should do penance by visiting Susan's "Microfiction Monday" and submitting accordingly.
{Oh all right. Here's a "thank-heaven-your-back-because-my-funny-bone-missed-you hug. But don't tell Susan. She might tell Santa about the company I keep}. ;)
Sigh.
YOU'RE back. I don't need to start trouble right from the start.
Excellent catch up and congrats on the Englishy thingy. I know the like Irish English teachers in Korea (is that an oxymoron) well if the cap fits! Good to see you back in the saddle even if there is a bevy of beauties walloping the horse on the backside
And yet Susan, AND YET, you are the first to comment, aincha? You know it - you can't stay mad at me! C'mere and gizanoulhug! Arrah gawan! Mwah! X O X!
Radge, 'plaintive' doesn't quite cover the whole truth that is "uproariously drunk and face down on an inflatable bed in Waterford at 4am in the morning after 12 hours drinking" but words can only do so much.
Hope, I honestly feel terrible, I really do. I hate being shit at stuff. I was about to write a blog a million times but truthfully, it's been a distracting time lately and then laziness just took over. I kept getting sharp pains in my back as well which I now realise was either you or Susan with a voodoo doll. I shall microfiction my penance, post-haste.
Baino, thank you kindly. I'm going to hobble that damn horse I am. Although in truth, it's not quite at dry spell proportions just yet, one always endeavours to be more productive in that department. And yep, it's looking like Japan or bust for me, the more I think about it the more I want to go there and nowhere else. I hear the women are very sexy and don't smack horses.
You had me at 'stunt arse', dear Mr McD....
I am re-drunk. Fuckin' silly season.
I have no recollection of lying on the lying on the inflatable, waxing lovely on your lovely waxings.
Pffffttt.
Go on then to Japan, Moo-moo-san. I'll be right here nursing my Smithwicks, having it all to myself too. And just SEE if anyone sends you Cavany postcards when you're gone.
:-(
Hahaha... Drunk repetition above.
I started following you just as you died off. As a result, I find this writing you're doing quite out of character. I liked your silent stuff - I was used to it. In fact I looked at it as a mix of blogging and mime.
I will hang around a bit longer, see if the words grow on me. ;)
Fucking fuck it all to fuckity fuck, just lost my first reply there. Fuckity blogger! Jasus!
@Kath: Glad you liked Stunt Arse. It's a carry over from a very drunken weekend in Waterford. And just how much cholcoate has it been since we last spoke? :)
@Radge: Lying on the lying! Gah ha ha! Cheers you drunk old fucker!
@Susan: I'm disarmed. Gizanoulhug works on even the iciest and hardest of hearts. How's about "I'm sorry", would that work? Ah sure feck it, gizanoulhug anyway, mwah mwah mwah!
Matthew, I shall certainly grow on you. I'm very like fungus in this regard you know. Just bring disinfectant and you'll be grand.
I passed the filthy english language teaching course.
I'm also off to Japan to teach them how to take the blurry pixels out of their porn.
Maybe we could meet up for some saki?
As they say in downtown Nagasaki.... "mune o te de yosete kamera ni mukatte smile shite".
SEVERAL stunt-arsed sized chocolates since we last spoke, dear Terence....
Hey, you're back! Not two days ago a bluebottle appeared in my boyfriend's house and I ended up laughing to myself at fuckyflies once more. Like a totally normal person.
@Maxi: I think a career beckons in teaching pretty Japanese girls to talk filthy English. You know what they say, "Find a job you love..."
@NaRocRoc: Very good sir, I thought you were making up nonsense syllables because of the 'smile shite' at the end but I've googled it anyway. There's nothing wrong with a language where 'shite' is part of the vernacular.
@KittyCat: Brand name fuckyfly is percolating into mainstream society, I love it!
But they're still wankers.
2 days old. 17 comments. Phew. I was freaked there for a bit. Glad you're back Terence. There are only a few blogs I read in this tiny corner of the Internet, and if one of those blogs should suddenly not be there anymore then I.........well I just don't know. I like the sound of that couple, do they have dinner parties?
I can not believe I'm saying this being the dear sweet granny that I am, but...."I'm glad your back"!
Leeroy, I reciprocate with ardour. But stay away from my housemates, they only cook for three you hungry barstard!
Thanks Brighid, it's nice to be missed. Sure I only disappear so often to hear the welcomes when I return. This applies to all apart from Susan of course, she hates me now.
damn it
I think Japan may never recover.
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