The Aftermath

“It’s all work, it’s never fun. As I mentioned to others: 1% thanks, 9% moans, 90% silence”
It was to that tune – sung by the event organiser on Twitter – that we descended on Belfast for the Irish Blog Awards on Saturday night.

This was to be my first time attending the most controversial night on the Irish blogging calendar.
Most of you probably didn’t know this, because I refused to mention it here, but I was actually a finalist in the Lifestyle Category, formerly known as the Fashion/Beauty category.
Yes I know I’m not a Lifestyle blog.
Yes I know I was actually a Personal Blog finalist last year.
I was SO aware of this fact that I emailed the IBA contact email THREE TIMES after the shortlists were released, telling them I wouldn’t consider myself a Lifestyle blog and that there seemed to have been some mistake.
Did I get a reply?
Nope.
And then a week or so later, I find myself in the Final Five of the Lifestyle Category.

“Are you excited?” people asked me.
“No,” I replied. “It’s not fair on actual Lifestyle blogs that I’m taking up a place. I’m a Personal Blog.”
“What will you do if you win?” they asked.
“I’ll hand the award right back to them,” I said.

Thankfully, whoever was judging the last stage for the category had some sense and I wasn’t forced to “do a Brando” as one of WR’s Belfastian Friends put it.

I wasn’t even the only one put in a position like that.
The Irish Language category had a finalist that hadn’t written an Irish post in a million years. She too emailed and although she was privileged to receive a reply, she was pretty much told tough and that she was going to be left there.
And then her blog was mysterious left off the list when it was read out on Saturday night.
And had now been scratched off the list on the website.

The Personal Category had what a lot would consider a cookery blog finalist and Best Blog by a Politician was won by Dylan Haskins….who is not a politician*…and whose first post was at the end of January.

Am I attacking these individual bloggers? Absolutely not.
You’ve got to respect anyone who works hard on their blog all year round and continues to write interesting posts (in fact I’ve gotten some lovely recipes from IMAIF).
I’m criticising the system that put them in the positions they were in.
In fact, I’m going to go ahead and say I’m criticising the whole bloody event.

There was nothing but moaning from Damien in the lead-up about how much hard work it was.
We were expecting the feckin’ Oscars with the way it was made to sound.
We walked into a very plain, boring room, with people sitting or standing awkwardly in almost-silences.
Was this it?

Fantabulous Foto Friday

Busy night of hair washing, ironing and packing ahead of me tonight.
That’s right.
It’s the Irish Blog Awards Weekend!
Yipeeeee!
I will be united with my cyber soulmate WR in her hometown for a whole two days.
I can barely sit still with excitement!

Only 130 tickets bought so far, which is a bit surprising.
Belfast = cheap alcohol and food and shopping.
Also, there is plenty of nice, cheap accommodation very close to the event if the Europa itself is a bit pricey for you!
No excuse for missing it.
It’s a once-a-year event.
Don’t be the sad blogger that won’t understand all the in-jokes on Monday morning.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Last week, a radio presenter read one of my tweets out on air.
Don’t worry, the post isn’t about that: I’m not so bad that I think this is worth bragging about.
But as it was a tweet, he also read out my Twitter Username: @chicknamedherms
ChickNamedHermia was too long by ONE LETTER to use so I had to use the ‘Herms’ nickname a lot of you have given me.
When I heard him say it - actually heard it said out loud - I cringed.

That’s right.
I cringed at my own blog name.
I felt like one of those sad teenagers who try to reinvent themselves by choosing some strange name that they think will make them sound ‘original’.
Or those teenage Angst Girls who name themselves after goddesses because they think it’s deep.

I didn’t choose the blog name all those 2.5years ago so that people would call me Hermia.
That didn’t even occur to me at the time.
I know…how slow am I?
The name came from the lyrics of a song in the film Get Over It.
Musical Shakespeare.
How could I resist?

It seemed like a good idea at the time: different, a little quirky and gave me some anonymity.
Now though.
Now I feel less happy with it as a blog name.

So I’m asking you guys:
Should I change the name of the blog to something a little more adult, a little more creative?
To something that sums the blog up better?

Please Discuss.
And Happy St Patrick’s Day Eve.

 

Packing Wars

I’m finding myself really easily distracted this week.
When I’ve a lot of things happening – especially things taking me away from my home – I find it really tough to concentrate on anything too taxing, which happens to include blogging.
I’ve a lot happening from now until Mid-April and my mind is constantly switching from one thing to the other, trying not to forget anything.
It kicks off this weekend with the Irish Blog Awards up in Belfast.
And yes I know I’ve been unusually quiet about them this year, but I’ll address that issue when I get some time next week.
I have my train ticket and event ticket, but I can’t bring myself to muster the energy required to buy sterling.
Damn you, UK….why couldn’t you switch to the Euro like everyone else!?
Yes our 1c coins may be tiny and pointless, but at least our coins look difference and non of them are the size of a ROCK.
I’m looking at you £1 Coin.
*shakes fist*

Also, I’m putting off planning what I’m going to pack.
I’m REALLY bad at packing.
And I mean REALLY.
I can’t bear to be too far away from a lot of my possessions and I’m very much a ‘What If’ packer -IE: What if it’s unseasonably warm, what if my hair gets frizzy, what if there’s a flood, etc.
Just for planning for hair alone I have to pack my heated rollers, GHD and hair-dryer, plus a paddle brush and medium barrel brush…and hair serum.
All of that for a two-day trip, during which I won’t be washing my hair.
That’s all just damage control.

Then there’s the outfit for the awards, which needs to stay un-wrinkled, so a suit bag will be robbed from The Boy.
This will include a separate jacket to the one I’ll be wearing during the day.
Speaking of which, what are y’all wearing to the IBAs?

Also needing to be packed are a change of clothes, sleeping attire and a gift for the lovely people who are putting me up for the night.
Oh and my Nikon D-SLR.
Oh and…..don’t worry, I’ll think of some other things.
I’m mental, seriously.
The Boy finds going on holiday with me very stressful during the packing process.

Thankfully, I have St Patrick’s Day** off from work to deal with this packing madness.
And then next week it will start all over again as I plan my packing for a weekend in Paris.

**That’s right, American Readers, PATRICK’S Day.
Paddy’s Day will also do.
Not Patty’s Day.
Patty is a GIRL’S name.
You’re insulting out Patron Saint when you call the day that.
Wise Up.

The Tale of Three Prawns

Were you guys aware of how scarce decent prawn cartoons are on the internet?
Well neither was I until I started searching for one today.
Why was I searching for prawn cartoons, I hear you ask.
Well because this post encouraged this blogger to demand a post on prawns:
So here I am.
Writing a post about prawns.
And their weird staring eyes that just won’t let you eat in peace.
All that judgement from one little crustacian.
They actually upset me.

I was in Pamplona a few years ago visiting a friend of mine and in one of the eateries we, you know, ate in, I ordered the seafood paella.
When in Spain and all that.
The ordering was left to my Spanish friend to avoid any confusion with the waiters and she specifically asked for there to be no prawns on the dish.
When it was put in front of me, there were three giant prawns looking at me.
She offered to ask them to get me my actual prawn-free order, but I said there was no need.
I could eat around them, right?
Wrong.
They sat there on top of the lovely rice.
Just looking at me.
No matter what angle I put them or me at, their gaze followed me.
I tried hiding them under the rice, but it was no good.
I knew they were there.
Maybe they could see me through tiny gaps in the rice.

Sensing my very real pain, my Spanish friend being the guapa that she is took them from me and ate them herself.
But I couldn’t really enjoy the dish after it.
Their little eyes haunted me.

So there you go, Dave - the wonderous co-worker who I still doubt actually works in my office and instead just stumbled across our Christmas party – there’s your prawn post.
You’ve dredged up the traumatic memories.
I hope you’re happy.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well

Those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook would’ve seen the following this morning:

Some of you were lovely and sent supportive messages.
The rest of you who abandoned me in a moment of need(iness) will be shunned for an entire hour….starting now.

Obviously you’re all wondering why I’m putting myself through these horrors.
Why is Hermia - consumer of all things full-fat and flavoursome, worshipper of Lyons Tea, scorner of the healthy-eaters and veg-heads – eating that healthy crap and currently drinking a cup of peppermint tea (that tastes like ass, btw)?
Because Hermia’s bad luck gets a little worse every day.

Last year I went to the doctor with horrible stomach pains.
(REALLY horrible….I’m no wimp, me!)
After the oul fossil spent ten minutes asking me is I was SURE I wasn’t pregnant, she eventually concluded it could be an ulcer….or something.
She gave me some tablets that were supposed to relax my insides.

A few months later it kicked off again.
The next doctor told me it might be some small gastric infection.
It might also have been something stress-related.
He gave be some tablets, told me not to get too stressed and sent me on my way.

Back in September, I went to see the doctor again.
Oh uhm…yeah, this time it’s probably really stress-related.
“Doctor, is there anyway it could be something else like IBS or something because it does happen when I’m not stressed?”
Oh uhm, maybe….but he was going to say stress for now.
More tablets (that didn’t even help a little) and I was kicked out of the office.

The last month has seen me in terrible pain with a horrible bloated stomach and messed up insides.
This time I was taking matters into my own hands.
I turned to The Internet.
The initial investigation didn’t go too well:
Eventually I had it narrowed down to IBS, Coeliac’s Disease or a Lactose Intolerance, just judging by the fact I’d been eating a lot of wheat and dairy products recently.

I went to the pharmacy to have a nice public chat with a 30-something awkwardly-cute pharmacist about my bowel movements.
Yes there was a nice private room a couple of feet away, but he obviously thought it was way more fun to discuss this in front of the oul wan buying her cotton swabs and the teenager working behind the counter.
He agreed with my IBS guess and suggested that it was caused by an gluten and/or dairy intolerance.

So now I’ve to seriously reduce my wheat intake, as well as dairy.
And take over-the-counter tablets that haven’t started working yet.
And drink peppermint tea to soothe my spazzy intestine.
I know it could be worse, but this is a little like a death sentence to someone who loves food as much as I do.
Bread and pasta and dairy products….they make my life worth living!
So now I am sulking.
Good day to you all.

Etiquette

I have been working in offices since I was 20.
It was a bit of a shock after working at markets  and then in a shop for the seven years before that and took some getting used to.
The problem with working in an office is that you can’t get away from annoyances.
In another environment, you can move yourself to another area of the building and busy yourself with another activity, far away from whoever is annoying you.
Lately, a number of friends have been complaining about their office environments and the annoying habits of their co-workers, which has prompted me to create the following list:

Office Etiquette
compiled by Hermia and her office-working friends:

1. A bar of soap and some deodorant won’t break the bank. Invest in them.
Similarly, I don’t care how much YOU like that perfume that you BATHED in this morning, stop abusing it because I don’t want to spend the day choking on it. Remember, less is more.

2. If you eat at your desk, keep in mind that no one else wants to smell your latest frozen delight of fish and sewage. It can be forgiven if it only happens now and again, but not on a regular basis.

3. If someone is popping down to the shop for a snack and asks you if you want anything, they mean it along the lines of “Do you want me to grab you a bar/crisps/banana?”. This is not an invitation for you to dump your complicated sandwich order on them, forcing them to queue forever at the deli counter.

4. Just because a co-worker comes into your office to say something to whoever shares the room with you, it doesn’t mean you’re allowed to sit there listening in on everything that’s being said. It mightn’t be super private, but it’s not being addressed to you. It’s also not socially acceptable to reference said conversation at a later time.

5. If someone is taking a phone call with a client, don’t make as much noise as you can in the background because it will be impossible for them to figure out what the client is trying to ask/tell them (working in a call centre was fun). Also, don’t listen in on the phone call, because it’s none of your business and if it is, you will be told…take your nosiness elsewhere.

6. Stealing food is not ok. It is NEVER ok. It’s even less ok in this beautiful recession where people now have to budget and plan out their week’s lunches. To you, it might just be a yoghurt, but to the person it belongs to, it’s leaving them short of food and possible costing them more money. Don’t be an asshole.

7. Don’t give people nicknames…actually that one applies to every job. As does ‘don’t leave poo floating in the work toilets for the next person to find’.

8. Don’t be a knuckle-cracker. The noise makes a lot of people want to vomit. If you really need to do it, take it outside

9. Don’t force the person you share a room to talk to you if they obviously don’t want to. Take the damn hint! (this was particularly bad in the call centre, because you didn’t have a designated seat and sometimes ended up sitting beside people you didn’t like or who were just too weird)..this one also applies to bus stops.

10. Don’t mess with another person’s desk. It’s just wrong to adjust the height of their chair or mess with their screens or move their papers and pens around, while you’re arsing around on their computers. A side-note to this rule is also not to root around on another person’s Facebook/Personal Email/etc if they’ve left themselves signed in on THEIR computer that YOU are violating.
Frape is hilarious if it’s your best mate, but messing around with a co-worker’s private sites is just unacceptable. Don’t be a dick.

To summarise, just don’t be a self-obsessed, rude, social-retarded jerk and you’ll be a lovely office person.

What do your co-workers do to annoy you…?

EDIT: I’d forgotten about this one:
11: Do not – I repeat, DO NOT – stare at your co-workers when they are eating!!!!!!!!!!!!