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Mission Impossible

Published August 21, 2011 by Dorothy

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, involves…

1 ) Explaining two new girls how to close the stock : mission accomplished

Actually, am I really studying to be a teacher? Because explaining stuff is kinda stressing me out. But maybe it’s because the stuff I was explaining, I didn’t really know all about yet 🙂 It was sooo difficult to a) keep the lines full  (the lines, where we put all the pasties on display for people to buy) so that lead Marshall doesn’t think I’m an eejit and can’t put two croissants together b) at the same time explain the pre-cleaning to two girls and make sure they’ve done everything right without forgetting anything myself and c) remain calm at all times, without even so much as a shot of Bourbon inta me to help. But in the end, we finished like, 20 minutes before the others. “That’s not right” I insisted, a little panicky, while Emilie laughed her head off at me. Actually I kinda feel like Emilie loves to laugh at me.I must investigate that matter of utmost importance and find out. “we can’t have finished 20 minutes before everybody else! it’s not right! I mean, I’m the one who was leading all this! so we must have done it wrong!” and Marshall kept repeating patiently “it’s normal you’ve finished early…there’s three of you usually you’re only two closing the stock…I’ thing you’re all done…yeah, no, don’t worry…Yeah, I’ll check in two minutes…allright I’ll check NOW. That way you’ll know for sure.”(and he probably thought “that way you’ll shut the eff up and let me pack my croissants in peace” but he didn’t say that aloud)

Turned out we hadn’t forgotten anything except putting boxes in the lines (stocks have to do that if they finish early)  and so when Marshall checked we were all set. A trio of stars. Smiley Emilie and Calimero and meself.

2) spend a quiet night in bliss : mission failed

Went to bliss with Pixie and Saniwipes and other cool kids. It was the first (and probably the last) time I was in this club. first the drinks are crazy expensive and second, the men in that club: are you kidding me? they are all over you and around you, and invade your breathing space like a cloud of smoke. And as soon as you hit the dance floor, they all come dancing with you uninvited. That wouldn’t be so bad if they wanted to waltz with you; but what they want is to rub themselves against you, the kind of rubbing my pet poodle did to people’s legs when he was a baby, and mom used to chase him away with a rolled newspaper in her hand. I had no newspaper for those dudes, so I had to do what I could to keep them away. But either some guys had ham baguettes in their pockets, or else I felt some things a lady doesn’t really want to know about ! Gross!

3) develop big voice and communicating effectively: mission accomplished

Someone (I will not name and shame Bernadette) slipped an ice-cube in my shirt while I was giving change to a little Canadian girl and I yelped so, loud that the whole bakery turned around, trainer two at the other end of the bakery, agent Smith (named like that because of his never smily face), Ice Mimi, Closet Peggy, and even trainer one poked his head outta the kitchen. Every customer saw me and rushed to my empty register this time! I knew I’d manage to this one day!

That’s all folks! (at least for today)

stay tuned,

mxx

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Travelin’ Band

Published July 31, 2011 by Dorothy

Everywhere, everything,huge.

Skyscrapers that lauch themselves high up, trying to reach up to the clouds; bodies sculpted, modified, touched up so much that their sheer, unnatural perfection no longer looks human;  houses painted insolent colors, buttery yellow, mint green, Pepto Bismol pink; restaurants, tables loaded with impossibly huge chunks of meat and mountains of golden chips; margaritas so huge and strong that your head starts spinning when you’re not even halfway through the glass.

That’s Miami for you!

We arrived early in the afternoon  and checked in our hotel. First good surprise: The reception and bar had this cool, retro vibe and the suite was really nice.  We explored the minibar and basket of snacks, and Barbs and myself found some cool shades, they  were plastic and had the American flag on them!!

“This is sooo fun!” Barbs declared. “Let’s bring them to the beach and take fun pictures!”

“Hum, are they free?” the two boys asked.

“Course they are!” I told them, ripping the plastic package off the shades and trying them on. “They couldn’t ask us to to pay for that! Look, it’s just cheap plastic.”

“Oh. Right.” they said.

There were two sofa and a giant bed, in which all four of us could fit! But we didn’t feel like trying it just yet : we were a few yards away from the beach and after a quick lunch at a French bakery, we directly went for a swim in the ocean. The sea was hot like a bath and I stayed in there with Barbs in there for hours, after what we joined the boys who had slopped down on their towels and were now  fast asleep on the beach.

“Come oooooon!” Barbs shouted enthusiastically in their direction, startling them both awake. “Let’s take a picture with those funny America sunglasses, it will be so fuuuuun!”

She reminded me of Michelle in American Pie a bit. The boys both grumbled vaguely than what they found funnn right now was sleeping and so Barbs and I took photos of each other  with the shades, and then we headed for the hotel because we had been told it was happy hour between 7 pm and 8 pm and we didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

About the happy hour: I thought the free cocktails were going to be like the “shakeitbaby” and the “sexyboyz” in the Chillers: those are only worth one dollar per glass but there’s one drop of tequila for one gallon of margarita flavoured slush, so after wasting ten dollars and remaining completely sober, you have to go to the other bar in the Chillers, the one that serves normal drinks, and get plastered on proper concentrated alcohol.But in the free cocktails of the hotel,there was so much alcohol and so little juice that they were almost shots! after about five or six of those each (ten each for the boys) I started to get kinda wobbly on my feet and so did the others; the Adam Rodriguez looking barman, spotting that we were behaving kinda oddly eyed us suspiciously and snatched the “free drinks”sign away as soon as he got the chance, probably worried that we were going to pull a rolling stones on him and destroy the place in a drunken fury.

When we left for the restaurant, we were completely gone over the hill and far away off our faces. We walked along Ocean drive and all the mixed sounds,scents and colors and lights made me feel like I was on some sort of a Las Vegas Parano trip. We stopped at a restaurant and we absent mindedly ordered three king sized margaritas (with two Corona bottles upside down in the glass for Alex) and they were like, huge! I think there was at least a liter of margarita in there, no kidding! I kept drinking and drinking out of it and I could barely see the level of margarita going down! this was the best margarita ever.

Then we ordered the meal.

“How much is the special plate of king sized rumsteak sprinkled with caviar and Veuve Clicquot sauce ?” Dorian asked the waitress.

“35769183685741368 dollars” the waitress said.

“oh! and how much the giant fresh lobster ?”

“hum, 86953987 dollars sir!”

I though he would them shrug and have a modest 3 pound steak or something that was  at a reasonable price but he enthusiastically went for the lobster that cost a zillion dollars! After fifteen minutes, it started raining. Not a drizzle,but heavy, tropical rain, complete with thunder. It took us quite a while to react.

“Oooooh it rains in my margarita” I said, drunkenly.

“It rains WATER.” Barbs blinked, stoned.

“Should we get like, out of the rain or something?” Alex asked.

‘Yeah, there’s like, a canopy there” rain was bouncing on Dorian’s head. “we could maybe go there, what do you think?”

“yeah, let’s do that! I’ll be funnn!” Barbs vaguely said.

After a good ten minutes of slow thinking, we finally pulled the table under the canopy.

The food was pretty good, the bill, less good: with three giant margaritas worth 30 dollars,plus Dorian’s supersized lobster in Bollinger sauce or something equally extravagant, and all the appetizers and maxi burgers and everything we ordered, the bill was:350 dollars! I don’t think I’ve ever managed such a high restaurant bill ever. Ah well. Youth and pissedness are our excuses!

That night we couldn’t find a place to hang out big enough for all our coolness to fit in (furthermore, the boys were wearing shorts and flip-flops so we couldn’t get inside any place that mattered 😀  ) so we went to a couple of pubs and then simply went to the beach to take a midnight bath and take some pictures of us in the deserted rescue patrol cabins pretending we were Mitch Buchannon and Pamela.

The next day was also terrific: We went shopping for souvenirs and I got myself THE tacky shirt : “f*** me I’m famous, Miami beach”. I hesitated between that and “Bitch, I was in Miami”, but I decided for this one, it’s tacky in a classy kind of way. Anyway, this is the right shirt if you want to get rid of your mom or your nanna for a couple of hours: If I wear this in front of them I’m pretty sure they’ll faint!! Also I can wear it in the Chillers: It will be assorted with my cocktails heehee.

Awesome!!!

PS: actually the bleedin shades were ten dollars!!!

Get this party started

Published May 15, 2011 by Dorothy

Things I have learned during the evening out in Nantes with the girls (Our own Heather from Tipperary, Fellow Nanny now officially nicknamed Dot and Aunty E, now officially nicknamed Shirley.)

  • Thing number one : You feel that you have too much thoughts locked inside you? You need to talk, express yourself ? You want to let it all out ? Pour your heart out to everybody who will listen? Well, I’ve got just the combo for you : Some Kir Peche+some white wine+a crepe+ a couple of pints! haha I don’t really know if it’s because I had been off the booze for quite some time, but for some reason, the drinks got to my head and made me SO rowdy. I spent the night talking the ears off everybody! (sorry by the way,girls- next time feel free to knock me out if I tell the same silly anecdote more than three times in a row 😀 )
  • Thing number two : When you’re a youngster, when you’re  in and you’re a fashionista it’s absolutely out of the question to wear earplugs. Even if your neighbour is the octomum and her babies.Even if you are four people sleeping in the same room, including Heather who likes chatting away in her sleep about oats and milk. Otherwise you may get called “Aul woman” “Vieille grognon sac” who wears “Granny Earmuffs”. Yes aul Shirley and aul Heather told me and Dot, and they were definite about it! 😀
  • Thing number three : I have spent like, two years using words that are most inappropriate: I now know I cannot call people “gobshites” whent I find them a little annoying or slow because it’s quite an offensive word. And I cannot use “bleedin” before every second word unless I want people to believe that I am a scary person and am about to rob them. Actually I might say it in front of Ryanair ladies, so they are afraid of me and let me get away with my overweight suitcase! good idea, no ? hehehee!
  • thing number four : When Dot says she can’t handle alcohol, she is fibbing. She had as much as I had and she wasn’t the one who carried on babbling about how uncle Shane was really scary with his misterious Kilkenny accent nobody understands 😀  Actually everytime I see Dot she drinks and drinks and is always sober! That is most unfair. I would pay to see Dot tipsy singing Highland Paddy 😀
  • Thing number five : Tipperary+Kilkenny+ Nantes combo is deadly 🙂 even if we took the girls to an empty bleedin aul pub, the evening was pretty funny! Then again maybe I was just entertaining myself with my own silly drunken anecdotes! Haha girls : You are superfun, the three of youse!

 

Stay tuned !

m xxx

Catch my Disease

Published July 28, 2009 by Dorothy
I like learning new things.Once I’ve learned something new,it gives me the impression that my day was not wasted,that I am indeed going forward,although I’m not quite sure towards where I’m headed yet.
I like to estimate how hard I’ve worked the past week by looking at the amount of rosin dust accumulated at the end of my fingerboard;I like the pine scent of the sticky block of rosin when I slide it along my bow.
I like the ensemble of squeaky fiddles not played quite right yet,the tunes played completely wrong and the subsequent collapses into fits of laughter.I like being not quite good in a space where it doesn’t really matter.
I like the rare times when I get it right;they are precious accomplishments,if small,and I save them like gems,the warm feeling for rainy days.

You’d understand,I didn’t want to give up on the end of the fiddle term,despite having to come from Kilkenny,which is two hours away by bus,for the lessons.

So last week I was quite confident I was going to be able to come in the morning,do a bit of shopping,go to my lesson, and then stay over at some friend’s place for the night.

After various shenanigans,the “staying at friend’s place” part of the plan didn’t work out (Too long to explain) let’s just say that we kept trying to contact each other but failed to succeed,me having no mobile phone didn’t help the situation.(have to buy a new one very soon)

After walking around in circles wheeling my one wheeled suitcase and carrying my fiddle case on my  back,I decided to go to a hostel.A jolly hostel manager greeted me and asked me what brought me to Dublin.The whole story was too long to explain and I couldn’t think of any way to explain it that didn’t make me sound like a tool, so I simply pointed at the fiddle case and said it was music related.

“Ooooh,you’re a musician! Why not do a gig at the hostel one week end?!”

Sure,I can if you really like the Kerry Polka,because it’s pretty much all I can play,I thought,but I said I couldn’t do gigs yet because I had to “Perfect my musical abilities”.

“Ah,you’re too modest” he said merrily before he handed me the room keys.

Two of five students had actually given up on fiddle,so was quite glad I had decided to come. Only three of us left.Was a nicer,but more intensive class,that was.Got a chance to chat with other two girls.Still didn’t chat a lot with Sinead, Sinead very small,very smily and very gentle but still frightens the life out of us pupils for some reason, maybe it’s the speed at which she can play reels.

After managing a reasonable set of Polkas, we said goodbye and I headed back to hostel.Spent a few hours on the internet and almost falling asleep with head on computer keoboard,went to bed.

Woke up with tiny little red dots on my arm. Dots dissapeared quickly.Forgot all about it and went on with my day.

The next morning,tiny dots had reapeared in whole new ginourmous reedition.whole arm was red,inflated and itchy;had huge boil on left cheek.Am still on anti allergy tablets and cream,but thankfully it has all gone down.

What you wouldn’t do for fiddle class!Now if that’s not dedication!

I had a msn message from the friend with whom I was supposed to stay overnight.I logged in today and saw it.He’d sent it when I wasn’t online.

The_Irishman’s_balanced_diet_iz_a_beer_in_each_hand said:

Buy yourself a new phone you eejit 🙂

Maybe it’s all down to that.

Catch my disease,a cool song by Aussie guy Ben Lee.

Have a nice day!

Mxx

 
 
 
 

 

today…

Published April 4, 2009 by Dorothy

“What do you want to play the harp and the fiddle for ?” my Mam asked when I mentionned the music lessons to her.”That’ll cost you money.”

“I’ve always wanted to play the harp remember ?” I said.”Since I was little.”

“Yeah well. You wanted to be a fairy princess too.You can’t always do what you want.”

“Well maybe I can’t be a princess”(Well you never know, Harry is still single isn’t he ? I thought.But I didn’t say that aloud.) “Buuut I can buy harp and book lessons so why not ?”

“You’ve go 2000 quids for the harp, have you now?”

Well not exactly, but I’m more thinking of hiring one. It’s fairly common practice, to hire instruments that are that expansive, when you start playing.

“For all your needs, there’s mastercard” I quote very seriously to mam. My banker actually tried to talk me into getting myself a new credit card with like,3000 quids overdraft, and I think that is because I accidentally led him to believe I was a zillionaire. Either that or he was on magic mushrooms when I talked to him.

When I was back home a couple of days and went to the bank for some reason I don’t remember, he asked me if I had an account with another bank because he hadn’t heard about me in a long time, so I said yes, because I was in Australia for a little while  so I had a account with a bank there.And then I said I was in New Caledonia after that, and now in Ireland. He then asked what job I had been doing s I said,oh, you know, not much.Not much meaning unimportant jobs like waitressing and checkout chick and all,just to pay my way around. But I then realised he was starting to think that I meant I was jet setting around the world doing nothing.He started to tell me I should open a new account better suited to my needs, on which I could deposit up to 10 grands (Fat chance of me depositing 10 grands ). He then got all friendly and started telling anecdotes about his dog and his wife and the back seat of his car being too small. Without thinking I said “oh, it’s the same at the back of the Maserati”. (As I was saying in my previous posts, I’m au pair and the family owns a Maserati).

At the word “Maserati” his head jerked up.I was going to inform him it wasn’t my Maserati but then he started talking about me getting a Platinum card and so I kept my mouth shut because some things are better left unsaid isn’t that right ?

But what was I talking about? Oh, yeah, mam and the harp. Mam thinks it’s a bad idea but I so dreamed to play an instrument ever since I was a kid and I never got the opportunity.

I’m the kind of person that acts on impulses. When I want to do something, well, I do it, whatever anyone says. You have to. Your life is short, and you have only one go at it. It is yours, and not your parents’, or your mates’, or anyone elses so you should be the one shaping it, and you shouldn’t let what people think influence your choices too much.Whether it’s going to Nepal, dyeing your hair red,learn figure skating,you should go for it, I think.

I look back at my journey through life and think  “that was awesome” sometimes I think “Whatever was I thinking that day?” and sometimes “What a fiasco” and sometimes “that was great fun.”

What you don’t want is to look back and stare at an empty canvas where it all should have been.You don’t want to look back at wishes that got lost along the way,dreams drowned in being realistic and being reasonable, opportunities that drifted out of reach.You don’t want to see empty albums and wasted time and think “what a shame” and think “too late”.

 

 

 

M xx

Do you have a facebook profile?

Published November 24, 2008 by Dorothy

One fateful day, I opened my email box and there was this fateful message in it “subject:Hey,this is your friend Jane Doe,come and check my facebook profile”

I clicked on the link to Jane Doe’s profile,and because I was bored,I joined and created my own profile as well. From there,I caught the “Facebook virus”.

People who have the facebook virus can spend hours doing feckin nothing useful.In the worst cases,they just click around all day, not talking to any actual people,just leaving them notes on facebook;They spend hours trying to get the highest score in facebook games and trying to get people they don’t even know to become their friends so that they can display on their profile that they have more friends than their other friends.

It starts innocently.You type in the name of people youknow at least a bit, to see if they are on facebook as well, send them friend requests and hopefully they will accept.You look at your list of friends,exclaim,oh, great, I have twelve friends!(that’s more that you actually have in real life;half of your facebook friends actually don’t give a shake about you when it comes down to it)

Then you click on your friend Mary Kate Holden’s profile to check if she has as many as you (convinced she hasn’t)and:Horror! Mary Kate Holden has 836538296354 friends and 9467504635 of them have added her as a “Top Friend” a special privilege that means that no,contrary to you,she isn’t a no-life who uses facebook to pretend she has heaps of friends.Her facebook friends actually like her.

From here,a tough competition starts.

You start showering your friends mailboxes with invitation emails,hoping that they will join and that will be one more friend for you.You search the name of hundreds of people hoping they will have a profile, including the names of the kid who bullied you at preschool and the brother of the friend of a friend,and the guy you met once at the pub and to whom you gave your phone number because you were sssooooo pissed.You actually never answered one of his calls afterwards but on facebook,that counts as being friends.

There is the applications as well;every day,you receive invitation to take bizarre tests  “Which pizza topping are you?” cheap psychological analysis “Are you more like barbie malibu or barbie disco?” and after laughing out loud and wondering what sort of eejit creates those tests and what sort of eejit takes them, you feel a tingle of curiosity.You want to know Mary Kate Holden’s results,and to read it, you have to take the test yourself,so you end up doing it.Seriously.

Anyway,there should be a “Facebook Anonymous” soon. Lots of people need it.

 

Anyway, stick around folks!

M xx

(And to my facebook friends who would happen to wander on my blog: I was exagerating a little bit, eh! 😆 I hope you realised it!)

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