So I think I’m somewhat recovered from Friday’s rant.
I’ve started to boycott Tesco and am now buying my meat in a local butchers and doing the rest of my grocery shopping in Dunnes and Aldi.
I’m taking a stand against The Man.
I’m sure he’s shitting himself right now.
Anyway, I had an unusual break from blogging over the weekend.
As you’ve probably gathered at this stage, I post five times a week, usually Monday to Friday because I have a life and need some free days away from responsibility, otherwise my head will explode.
This very rarely works out though
I nearly always miss a day during the week or fall behind on returning comments because of work and general stuff, and have to make it up at the weekend.
Not this weekend though.
This weekend, I was organised.
So organised that I didn’t just sit around the apartment in my underwear…I actually made PLANS!
*cue headless horsemen and other signs of an impending apocolyspe*
Saturday, myself and The Boy got up at a decent time and visited the Farmer’s Market in Temple Bar.
I didn’t actually end up buying anything, because there seems to be some stalls missing since I was there last and naturally they were the stalls that had the things I was looking for.
After that, I finally persuaded The Boy to replace some of his tattered jumpers and tops so he looks like a respectable human being again.
I’m a humanitarian, really.
Saturday was actually a rather momentous day for The Boy.
I finally had my wicked way with him and convinced him that he needed to watch the original Star Wars movies.
He’d never seen them.
(He’d also never seen The Goonies, Back to the Future and other such classics, but I’ve sorted that out already).
I took a trip to my childhood butchers to get a pound of hands-down the GREATEST sausages in the world and bribed him with sausage sandwiches and tea to watch New Hope that afternoon.
He liked it.
But I don’t think he’ll ever really appreciate the original movies.
That night, myself and The Bessie decided to have The Laugh and head out for some dancey-dancing.
The Laugh was at full-throttle.
We ended up dancing on a stage.
I was channelling my inner slutty-indie-biker-girl apparently.
We finished the night eating chicken balls and curry sauce in Charlies, which is how all good nights SHOULD end.
Needless to say, The Laugh gives you a hangover and thus in Sunday’s story.
I’ll have a decent post for you guys tomorrow!