Thursday, February 18, 2010

Going Public

Public transport has never really been my thing. Even as a child I had the good sense to demand to be driven to school. So you can imagine my horror when I found myself standing at a bus stop this morning, surrounded by yobbos.

Adam had borrowed my car to drive to a family members funeral. He had been sulking about my decision not to attend with him all week. It was really getting on my wick.I never knew his gaga grandmother.I flat out refused to come visit her in that home from the get go. Weekly I found myself reiterating my feelings on Alzheimer's "Once that kicks in, they're really not worth getting to know ,waste of time," I'd tell him. But that just wasn't enough for him, he just kept on and on and me. Which was a school boy error on his part as once pressured I won't budge.Truth be told that old woman was fast becoming a thorn in my side, so good riddens to her.

Anyway with all the grieving and sulking I caved and told him he could borrow my car. I really do spoil that man. But that's love for you!

Earlier though ,as I took in my surroundings at the bus stop that love started to dwindle. Fast.It was bloody freezing and myself and the rest of the cattle where huddled together underneath the shelter to escape the rain. It was most undignified.After five minutes of hell, I sighed to those around me: “This waits a bloody joke, isn’t it?” The idiots just smiled like sheep and a woman said, “Oh, I don’t really mind waiting. There’s worse places I could be right now.” I knew at that moment that she was probably a heroin addict and the places she referred to were prisons.

After what felt like a lifetime I spotted the bus trudging down the road. My little face lit up. It was at this point I realised I had hit an all time low. Thankfully the rest of the mob were waiting on other buses. Which were undoubtably headed straight to hell or some sort of scummy council estate. I boarded the bastard ,but not before turning on my heel and adding “You're all a bunch of stupid cunts,” because that kind of language is the only kind they understand.

The journey was as grim as expected. Diseases like alcoholism, Aids and cold sores were no doubt lurking in the seats. Screaming brats and smelly old farts surrounded me. I took my seat and prayed no one would sit next to me. Next thing you know a sorry looking specimen plonked himself down beside me. The smell of piss and wet dog was overpowering. I tried not to inhale and edged closer to the window. Then he had the nerve to attempt to make chit chat with me about the weather and other banal subjects.That's when I saw them in his hand. The swine was selling The Big Issue. On a bloody bus, you're safe nowhere these days. Well I stood up before he even had a chance to ask me for €3, which is a fucking joke , by the way. "Listen up you disease-ridden waster, I'm on to you, I smelt you a mile off. I will not be accosted at this hour of the morning on the way to WORK ", I yelled. He then mumbled something feeble about just trying to be friendly and earn a living. Blablablabla.I shouted back at him: "You don't see people like me selling garbled nonsense on a bus, do you? I chose to get a real job and make my money honestly!" He made a lewd hand gesture at me. I moved seats.

Then, to my horror ,some dole scum mother with a snotty babe hanging from her arm attempted to buy a copy ."You’re not buying one of them, are you?" I asked her, incredulously. But she was already engaged with the brute scrambling for change. I mean the moron probably cant afford to buy nappies yet she was willing to hand over her "hard earned " cash to the foul smelling degenerate. "I hope you have fun spending that on your packet of heroin later!" I hissed at him.

My new seat had me sitting next to a pubescent pleb. Tinchy Stryder was pumping from his headphones and puss was pumping from his spots. I'd say he couldn't believe his luck when I sat next to him and I'm nearly convinced I saw a little bulge in his school trousers. I didn't mind though, it's very "hard" for them at that age, hormones ranging and that. He could ogle me all he wanted. No doubt I've earned a prize place in his wank bank! Bless. I'm generally a good sport about that sort of thing but when the little wanker produced a chicken roll dripping in egg mayonnaise, I felt nothing but contempt for the disgusting animal.

Firstly, eating whilst in transit is the mark of a ill mannered greedy cunt. But eating a roll of egg mayonnaise and chicken at 8.30 on a dirty old bus is beyond vile. As he gorged, I gagged. After what felt like an eternity my stop finally came up, I felt compelled to give the boy something to think about. " Enjoying that roll are you?" I chirped. "Yes you are, loving it, aborted foetus drenched in mayonnaise, wrapped up with it's dead mum in one yummy roll", I scoffed and bid him good day. I can only hope my words have hit home and the little cretin doesn't bastardise another roll or another innocent passengers morning.

It's with a heavy heart that I must admit there is a clear boundary that divides me from the other humans I share this country with. Shame it's not clearer. Today that line became blurred and boundaries were crossed. I can only console myself by remembering that, thankfully, Adam will be back with my car tomorrow and I'll be driving by the bus stop , slowly,with my two fingers up at the cattle.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

All you need is LOVE

Valentines day is fast approaching and throughout the world pathetic singletons are shitting it about dying alone. Every minute billions of lonely souls will piss and moan about having no one to share the most important day of the year with. Some will threaten suicide, many will just self harm , all will begrudge happy couples. I've witnessed the later first hand.

Yesterday ,Sarah ,a no hoper singleton friend, was sobbing into her soup about being lonely and depressed.It was evident she was doing her damnedest to ruin my lunch. It was nauseating stuff. I for one barely touched my starter of risotto. She had another thing coming if she thought I was going to let her selfish blubbering ruin my second course. I did what had to be done so I leaned across the table and told her to listen up; "All year long you've behaved like an undesirable dullard, I mean you work as a member of the Garda Síochána. Not attractive! "You were alone last year and the year before that and now surprise surprise your going to be alone AGAIN this year. You should have had some foresight and sorted yourself after last year", she was a bit taken aback, but I wont have another hour of my life wasted next year.

I continued on about how being "self indulgent" and "needy" would never bag her a boyfriend. Neither would eating scotch eggs in public or just anywhere, and as for walking around the streets in her ghastly uniform.Eughhhhhh.In fact come to think of it, Sarah really is a horror. I severely doubt she'll ever find a boyfriend,even after the valuable time and advice I've given her. She's just plain lazy and to be honest -plain looking.Anyway, after all my words of wisdom ,did I hear even a whisper of thanks from the moaning munter? course I bloody didn't. Ignorant culchie.

When it comes to men ,people often ask me - Jezebel what is your secret? Praise embarrasses me because I'm such a humble person, but when someone asks for advice it's only fair to pass it on. Adam and I have been together for years. In his eyes I'm God. No other woman comes close. Not even his meddling mother.

Truth be told I'm a highly desirable woman. Men would happily loose one of their lad lumps to get a sniff of one of my panty liners and I dont let Adam forget it. Not that he ever could,the amount of male attention is phenomenal. The constant cat calls in the street is at times tiresome but he knows it comes with the territory. Reading this you may think I sound arrogant but I'm the one with a boyfriend ,who adores me. So there you go.

But good looks will only get anyone so far. The late Elizabeth Taylor (I think it was her) once said to me:

“When you are beautiful and radiant, people will give you 5 more minutes of their time. Only 5. After that you better have something interesting to say for yourself.”

Lucky for me. I do. I can converse on a range of weighty subjects.It's one of the many skills I possess .I'm the envy of pretty much everyone I meet at cocktail parties. This is because I'm always educating myself. Down the years Adam has undoubtedly benefited from my genius.His IQ has definitely went up. I'm a constant stimulus for him. Scrabble is big part of our lives, obviously he can't really be considered a serious opponent for someone of my calibre. But at least he tries! Sometimes he grunts and groans with pathetic excuses about being "tired" and wanting to "take it easy" ,to which I always add "Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty, hence why I look no more than 20 and I taste 14!"

Valentines day is a time for Adam to show just how much he thinks I'm worth. Each year we're together the amount he spends should significantly go up. I like to ascertain how much Adam has spent on me and so have no qualms demanding to see a receipt. At the start of our relationship I diplomatically announced that I felt it common courtesy to give the receipt as it allows you to return it, should it be unsuitable. After last year, he knows this is not my only reason. Silly boy.

I did pretty well last year- dinner, theatre,earrings, laptop, trip to Florence and a Mulberry handbag. All relatively good gifts, but I smelt a rat. The next day I strode into Brown Thomas to the returns desk and had the bag scanned. It was bought at a marked down prize, reduced , last season. Whatever! That sort of behaviour was not going to wash with me.

Lets just say Adam wont be making the same mistake again and so I'm looking extra forward to see how he fairs this year. He has a lot to live up to after his lamentable behaviour. Love is truly in the air and I'm giddy with anticipation, lets just hope I don't have to encounter anymore begrudgers! but that doesn't mean I wont be sparing a thought for them on the big day. If I could have but one wish, it would be that everyone had someone on Valentines day.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Txt Tlk- The official language of the Moron culture.

I judge people. Not on the colour of their skin or what class in society they belong to. Well maybe what class they belong to. But this is only due to the fact that in today's equal and fair society one has the chance to rise above whatever miserable class they were born into and strive for greatness. Like I did. Alas some people are just plain lazy. Anyway I'm not here to have a go at the lower classes. Contrary to popular belief I actually think they're pretty decent. But obviously on the whole it's probably best we don't mix.

"But Jezebel you're such a kind and tolerant person, who could you possibly judge"? I hear you ask. Well I'll tell you. I immediately judge anyone who butchers the English language or attempts to incorporate text talk into a conversation. In FACT I instantly form a deep-seated hatred for the offender and my opinion will never waver. EVER. You're as a good as dead to me. In fact just die, so you cant ever inflict your vile mutant text talk on innocents like myself again.

Yesterday whilst chatting on MSN a certain person who I shall not name, but who was of the male variety ,kept responding to my "chats" with LOL. I'm not well versed with these abominable abbreviations (because I choose not to be) and gathered he was trying to say "Lots Of Love". It seemed like the most obvious assumption to come to as I'm pretty sure he was infatuated with me. No moves had ever been made ,but I felt that was probably because he was in it for the long haul and hoped to woo me one day.

Naturally being the classy kind hearted sort that I am ,I decided not to end the conversation abruptly. Although I did immediately recoil at the very sight of his declarations of love. But seeing as he clearly had it bad for me I had the decency to let him go on and on until he began to talk about his fathers recent death. It all became a bit tiring and I personally felt it was a little inappropriate to talk about such a matter online. So in the end I logged off. Pretending my Internet was down.

Later that evening ,being the caring sort, I began to think about him. So I decided I'd send him a Facebook MSG. I thought I'd indulge the poor bastard in his own language. So I kindly wrote on his wall, "Sorry to hear of your loss. My deepest sympathies. LOL Jez." I was satisfied with that and went to bed feeling happy.

Then, today ,my Nosy Parker friend calls me to say Laughing Out Loud at the death of someones father was not on and I had gone too far. "What are you going on about, you stupid bint", (I whispered the last bit under my breath). "You wrote LOL after your message to (the moron who shall not be named)", she spat down the phone at me. Well boy was I mad when she explained my error. Not only did I look insensitive I had lowered myself to write LOL, for everyone to see.

In a rage , I rang him. I explained myself but he didn't seem to be listening to a word I was saying. I lost my cool."What exactly where you laughing out loud at, you pillock?", I began to shout down the phone. " It wasn't in the least bit funny, witty possibly, but surely every sentence I wrote didn't merit a "LOL"?", I awaited a reply, but he was silent. So I called him an "oily little sycophant" and hung up.

Nosy Parker just called me back there, apparently today was sycophants fathers funeral.


Friday, January 22, 2010


As a young girl on our yearly trip over the river to Clearys , I remember meeting a poverty-stricken old man who coughed phlegm and bits all over me. Even though I was just a child, I vowed to do whatever I could to cure that man of his illness, and then destroy him. I innocently thought that if I could cure the world of poverty then I could cure the world from the scourge of scummy commoners. Now I'm older I've realised that you don't have to be poverty stricken to have a pretty scabby house and behave like a dustbin dweller. In fact some people are just disgusting no matter how much income they have. And I know what your thinking "they must be 'new money' , so did I, initially. Until my cousin Ciara came to visit this week.

She's from a nice wealthy Catholic family and was brought up relatively similar to me, although I was raised in a more protestant household. As my mother married into the Church of Ireland "community" on her second time round. I myself am a Catholic and while I’m not thrilled about my stepfathers protestant lineage, I make the sacrifice because that’s what being a Catholic is all about. I don’t go to church every week, but that’s because God understands how pure I am and doesn’t need the Sunday morning hard graft that He must demand of others. So there.

Well my cousin, if I can even call her that anymore, decided to come and stay with me for a few days after returning from some hippy dippy world trippy! yuck. Naturally being the kind hearted welcoming hostess I am , she was received by me with open arms. Literally and figuratively. Which was big of me as she hadn't washed since she landed and was beginning to develop a crusty layer of filth on her. I showed her to the guest room where I had placed fresh roses by her bed. Upon seeing them she got all teary eyed and blubed about how great it was it home with her family etc. That's when I had to interrupt her. "This isn't your home Ciara, you're here for a visit", I chirped cheerfully at her."Oh and remember I always have MY HOME immaculate, so don't go worrying that I've made a fuss". I figured she'd pick up on my thinly veiled hint that this wasn't going to be some couch surfing holiday and she couldn't behave like a disgusting drug smoking layabout under my roof. I was mistaken, Ciara sadly was not too quick on the uptake.

For one thing her appearance didn't change too dramatically for the rest of the time she spent at chez Jezebels and although I heard the shower running I was never wholly convinced of her having one. She constantly looked unkempt and I'm telling you I don't think I saw a scrape of make up on her face once.It's a shame she doesn't share the flawless skin that I do. Now that I'm older and wiser I've taken into account the jealousy she must feel towards to me and I don't blame Ciara. I pity her. Staying in my beautiful home and seeing what a success I've made of myself must not have been easy for her. But that doesn't give her the excuse to behave and look like a homeless.

The final straw was when I returned home the other evening to find her faffing about in my kitchen ,attempting to cook me dinner. She said she'd been shopping in this new supermarket she'd heard about and got some great deals. Great deals? my stomach churned.I cant stand poor quality food. I thought this was common knowledge. Did she honestly think I'd rejoice that she'd bought some muck at Lidl. Yes Lidl. If I was a super market I'd be Marks&Spencers,in fact I'd be a upmarket delicatessen, specialising in gourmet world foods. So you can imagine my horror when I saw the Lidl bag on my marble counter.

Ciara had another thing coming if she thought I was sitting down to eat her nauseating nosh. I hate to be pernickety. But really, she had some nerve. She had prepared some sort of lunch meat, possibly spam or something vile like that. My kitchen stank, her hands probably weren't even washed, I began retching, it was all too much. "Spam?" I yelled. "I mean come on Ciara, we're not living in war torn times"? I tutted and gave up trying to reason with her. "Just get the hell away from me," I sighed and slammed the kitchen door shut.

Thankfully the next evening I returned home to find Ciara and her backpack had left. Sadly the Lidl purchases had not and still resided in my fridge. I flung them all in bin before heading to my bed. I was worn out after her stay. It hurt me to think that my own flesh and blood could be so classless and scummy. It saddened me. It saddened me deeply.

Monday, January 18, 2010


There are some things which make me feel sick to my stomach. Poor quality food being one and artsy indie students being another. Oh and now poor PowerPoint presentations. Yuck. Today I witnessed the most embarrassing piece of shit presentation that the world has ever seen.I'm still reeling from it. Tim nice but dim as I refer to him had to follow my presentation which was no mean feat but he royally made a tit of himself. It started off reasonably ok before taking a detour and going straight to hell. He began by opening with a joke and albeit a weak one I admired his attempt. But I quickly lost all respect for the bumbling fool after the first minute. Not once did any of the images match the text and the graph he used was 15 years out of date and had absolutely no relevance to the business we work in. What a wanker. He looked like hunch backed half-wit with a broken arm bouncing around up there.

After his embarrassing display of ignorance I felt compelled to say something. It felt like an obvious question but I had to whisper to him:" What were you thinking? I mean, what in the name of Jesus was going through your mind?You're fucked, by the way . You are sooooo fucked."

Sadly he wasn't sacked on the spot which to me is unfathomable after what we all had to endure. That's approximately 17 minutes of my life that I'll never get back. I despair about this modern society in which we live. Molly coddling morons. You know in the past I used to flirt with the idea of getting into politics because of my amazing diplomatic skills, impeccably high moral standards and vocabulary consisting of roughly a million words. But lately I've come to think this country might be beyond my help. With all the moaning on about recession this and recession that and I cant feed my children and I have no job, blablablablaba. Get over it and get on with it.In the old days they didn't have nervous breakdowns just because it was taking longer than expected to sell their houses. A lot of them had no shoes let alone bloody houses. Anyway I digress, Tim's presentation has wound me up no end and has made me wonder whether I'm selling myself short working with these imbeciles. Perhaps politics is my calling. Could I be the woman to turn this country around? I would certainly be the most attractive person in politics this country has ever seen. Lets be honest the world has ever seen. Not to mention the most well spoken.

Who knows maybe one day as I sit in Aras an Uachtarian I'll think back fondly to Tim and his presentation and have a little chuckle to myself. But for now I'm not laughing. I'm seething.What a gormless twit.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


I DON'T understand people who complain about the snow. When it's perilous outside, I voraciously leap upon the opportunity to stay indoors and challenge my mind. I'm a keen player of Trivial Pursuit and I'm rarely ever matched in a game of a charades. Over Christmas some of my friends took time out from the monotony of their lives to come over to my apartment for some wine and nibbles. I try my utmost to educate and better them at any chance I get because I simply wont have them letting me down in company( a constant worry of mine) .Obviously, the 'Pursuit' is not much of a challenge as they can't really be considered serious opponents for someone of my calibre. But I still take time out to let them have a bash and God love them they really enjoy trying.

One of my friends, and I use the word friend loosely, is a complete moron. I've suspected this for some time and I'm continuously trying to cut her loose, but to no avail. The 'dead weight' has been a "friend" for years and the others are reluctant to heed my advice. But really how were we to know the difference between right and wrong . We were so young when we met her. I suppose it wasn't until I became older and started mixing with better people that I started to realise that perhaps she wasn't the kind of person someone like me should be friends with. That might sound quite snobby, but I'm just stating the socioeconomic facts. Well as you can imagine she completely ruined the game not only was she appalling and unable to grasp the concept of charades she had the cheek to find the whole "charade" very amusing. She was positively punchable with her incessant laughing and limited vocabulary. I realised in that moment she really was the worst sort of scum I'd ever laid eyes on.

I have plenty of poor friends today who can't afford to look their best. Although I might not accept their dinner invitations (I can't stand poor quality food), it doesn't mean I don't make the effort to be nice to them. I'm not going to dump a friend because she's poorer than me if I did i probably wouldn't have many friends left! Anyway, I stuck with Chloe as much as I could but she really started to annoy me after the mockery she made of my wine and nibbles evening and although I gritted my teeth, it became difficult to resist the temptation not to sever the friendship. Especially after her flippant attitude towards charades lost my team the game.

I had to intervene and let her know that she was pretty embarrassing (in a nice way). Thankfully I haven't heard from her since so I think she pretty much got the message - Last week in a club I saw her so I had to send Darren over to tell her to leave me alone a couple of times just in case she had any ideas. But apart from that she stayed away.

I know I have defiantly helped her to become a better person because she'll do anything to get back in my company and she now knows that means cleaning up her act. Which will make everyone happier in the long run and that includes Chloe.I might just be one woman but in my own small unassuming way I make the world a better place.

Sunday, June 28, 2009 it a toilet splattered in vomit?

I have always been one those annoying people who excels at absolutely anything I throw my hand to. Occasionally I'll mess about with a paint brush and end up producing something Van Gogh would be envious of. Tracey Emin in fact once said that I had a pretty good chance at getting into the Saatchi gallery, cause my work was that good. And I only do it is a hobby. Now I have never been one to brag about my artistic ability, but it is an undeniable fact that I have been blessed (some might say ‘cursed’) with a superior vision to most of society.

It’s a sad day that sees artists with real integrity beaten down by loud-mouth sensationalists. Last week some sexual deviant stumbled upon my blog. After reading my work he felt compelled to give me a telling off. And subsequently then blocked me from his facebook page. The pillock. I only accepted the friend request as I thought the man was a fellow artist. I was wrong on many levels. A graffiti artist is more vandal / scourge on society than artist. I really do despair at what people class as talent these days. Writing your tag name on a wall and stenciling some profound piece of wank on a shutter is not art. It's bollox and should be defecated on.

“Artist? you don't know the first thing about Picasso's brushwork“! I yelled at the computer screen. Street artists are a bunch of tossers who failed there leaving cert,drink their own piss, and masturbate hourly over the self proclaimed “art terrorist“ banksy. The most pathetic part about it is that they are surrounded by sycophants who would say vomit splattered on a toilet seat is innovative and displays a great use of colour.

Alas the vicious animal had already blocked me before I got the chance to inform him what a giant cunt cough he was. To call me a homophobe is laughable. If anything I am a big supporter of gays. One of my best friends is a FUCKING FAGGOT (he loves it when I call him that!)

Calling me a bender basher is bad enough but calling me a racist is what really got my panties in a twist.I believe racists should be locked up, in fact they should tortured and then gassed.If you are a decent person with a job, who doesn't commit crime or beg in the street like a dog, then you're okay with me.Whatever colour your skin is. I am someone who stands up and fights the hard fight for the rights of those less fortunate. This is why I oppose racism and now all graffiti scum.