Episode 42 – I’m More of An Interlude, Really

I’m headed to bed.

I find myself getting easily pissed off with people the last few days. I just got very irked by an article I came across, posted by a new Irish rugby player linked trendy Dublin app that has something to do with boxes and restaurant reviews. Apparently today’s contributor found the city village in which ElsaDaughter and I live as the resident Crazy Dog Ladies, too “gentrified” and sold his/her house here (if you can afford to buy a house here, you are the fucking gentry) to move to an up and coming area complete with a Kurdish grocer and yoga studio attached to a café. Do you know the meaning of the word irony you desperately seeking hipster? So what if one “food hall” is over run by yummy mummies? Don’t go there. It’s shit anyway. In it, I’ve had three horrible meals and a mortifying experience involving Rob Kearney and me muttering expletives to myself about the fake tanned staff flirting with each other over Major Online Video Sharing Service clips while I waited to purchase two overpriced, overbaked, over exposed muffins.

This is not my hometown: I’m very definitely from “down the country” but this eternal search for the new, the cool, the gritty, just grates on my nerves. Get over yourself.

Other stuff has pissed me off too. Patronising academics, boys who belong in Katy Perry songs (“You’re hot then you’re cold/You’re yes then you’re no… Make up your goddamn mind, you woman *Intentional quip*).

I love Sue Perkins.

Middle aged men who drive big cars, Jaguars, BMWs, and suddenly think they’re George Clooney. Sweetheart, only a few fifty somethings earn the title of Silver Fox and you’re not one of them. Also, the rules of the road still apply to you.

Also, it’s December 1st. Relax with the Holiday Season. And the rampant consumerism that goes with it. And since when is Black Friday a thing in Ireland?

DR 💋

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