Snooker! In Belfast!
Who knew. That's all I am saying. But once I found out...
Yes, I took the afternoon off work, made my way to the Waterfront, plopped down seven quid and there I was. Watching Matthew Stevens and Ken Doherty, while Jimmy White was on the other table. My is Matthew just intent on making bad hair choices. And if he thought that attempt at a 147 break meant I was going to forgive him for breaking my heart and not winning the world championship this year, that boy has another coming to him. So, Matthew wins, despite the bad hair and the young lad dropping his snooker cue down the steps. Then it was why I had really come. To see John Higgins. John got thrashed. You think I woud be disappointed. But it was Mark Allen's second professional match. Now the boy needs to think long and hard about his safety game. When he misses a shot, he just isn't getting the cue safe. And he is fearless (though occasionally reckless) but could he pot!?!?! I know I will be watching him on tv for years to come. And well I saw him there, doing big things. Looking pretty. Wow.
I also Mark Williams (following in the Ronnie O'Sullivan hair style path) and Alex Higgins. Alex wasn't playing of course. Strangely enough, it appeared I was the only single woman in the place (no, I know I am not single. There is the H. But I was the only woman at the snooker on her own. There weren't a lot of women. Mind you. And the rest where with at least two males. And then there was me. Wanting to heckle Stevens for breaking my heart. Losing to an evangelical. Always a bridesmaid. Never a bride. My memory is long, Matthew. Long).
And well, exciting new fun with lego.
So one of the workmates has returned from their long holidays. And they tell a fascinating story of a cable car in West Cork. The sheep and cows get prioritiy. There are prayers about death and dying in one of the corners. And yes, there is still a bottle of holy water. Just think, tonight I can watch the next episode of Lost. Do you think the plane will crash again?
Can I just add a paean to bacon?
I mean I love American bacon in its own way but if I had to choose between a life of American bacon or a life of Irish bacon, well I suppose it isn't the reason I live in County Antrim but it is a reason I do love an Ulster Fry.
The H actually accused me of going so native that I might be ready to join the TOGS. I don't think so. I just no longer shudder in horror every time I hear Terry Wogan's voice. Ah, and the cricket. I find the cricket pleasing in so many ways. I can't really explain it.
I Don't understand why their are polar bears on a tropical island.
And well it is making me rethink the whole what I want to do for my 40th birthday. I thought I'd like to go to a tropical island. What if the plane crashed? What if there are bears? What if there is a heroin addicted ex-hobbit?
Meanwhile, this story just reminds me too much of my last Delta flight from Atlanta to Dublin. Is it any wonder I don't like to fly?
So I need to talk about the travels. No, really, I should. I have lots to say about gender. And not all of it revolves around strippers. Of which on this trip, there might have been more strippers than praire dogs. And this surprised me. I wasn't planning on looking at naked bodies. In fact, I can say in one instance, I really didn't want to look at naked bodies. I actually wanted to watch free HBO. But well, tomorrow I might have more time to do these stories justice. Oh, and I must remember about the sheets!
Some people have too much time on their hands.
I don't think I linked to the site that had recreatated the 'Thriller' video but it was amazing. And now comes this! Which reminds me, I need to check how my ebay bid for an Egyptian ballon set is going.
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