Some stuff...

I like this girl.




We've had a spot of rain.

Cork is currently under water along with UCC. That meant lots of drinking on Thursday night, in the dark, in my friend's apartment, in a foot of water.

Also means I have a whole week off to spend in Galway to try and salvage the remains of my relationship. Do or die...now or never...make it or break it...
Phew.

My house sucks.

Things that have gone wrong so far:

1. In the first two weeks we had no shower so I had to depend on flying visits to houses of friends to ward off bad smells.
2. The shower door fell off.
3. The roof in the kitchen started leaking.
4. We acquired a pet mouse named Romeo who likes to dodge mouse traps and eat galaxy chocolate.
5. I realised that my bedroom is by far the worst in the house even though I'm paying the same rent as everyone else. I'm right beside the sitting room and kitchen and hear EVERYTHING that goes on from dawn to dusk.
6. I also realised that some of my housemates are hmmm.. messy.
7. We got broadband installed and it works everywhere....apart from my desk.

On the plus side my French and appreciation of art history is coming on a treat. And it's Hallowe'en soon. That means Christmas. Which means relocation. Shweet.

I've also learned how to skateboard and juggle (not at the same time), the fundamentals of DJing, met some of my heroes from Ed Banger and had a lot of fun all the while.

Perhaps the lack of internet is doing me good.

Uffie finally got a video....

....3 years later. Don't like it though.

Plus this.

Which is much more exciting. College is affecting my blogging.

Doesn't matter if you don't like Jay-Z, watch it anyway.

Had yet another graduation ball thing on Friday with my friend from Cork city, which was pretty sweet because lots of the people that were there are doing the same course as me. Let's just hope they remember me when I latch onto them the first day of lectures.

Cork also has the best charity shops I've ever seen. Me and my remarkably stylish buddy G (she got stopped by Irish Street Style literally minutes after I left her that day) went for a root on Friday. I couldn't find many treasures that day but did find these three necklaces.



Much more fun to be had in Galway this week, plus a Dylan Moran gig on Sunday. Two words, LOVIN' LIFE. Ha.

Foreboding.

My orientation day for college is on Friday and I'm absolutely terrified, I'm not the best in social situations you see. I get to a stage where fear of the inevitable awkward silence becomes too much and I just. Don't. Shut. Up.

A perfect example of this is last Saturday at a party where I knew a handful of people as acquaintances amongst an incredible amount of strangers. I learned a lot about conversation that night and for your convenience, I have compiled a short list of topics that generally aren't suitable for light conversation with strangers:

Number 1 - Private information about yourself that is best kept private until the person has become a proper friend. For example, "Oh yeah I love hanging out at the library, it's class in there, I'm pretty good friends with the librarian at this stage, we go drinking together."

Number 2 - Suicide. "Oh you go running in that park? Yeah, I lived across from that place, guy hung himself while I still lived there. Crazy huh?"

Number 3 - Pickled produce. "Ok...there's gherkins, pickled onions...what's the other one? What? Beetroot? No, not beetroot. My brother grew some beetroots this summer, they were massive! Eggs! That's it, pickled eggs!"

I'm screwed. I'm going to wind up as the girl with no friends in college who eats sandwiches by herself and is shunned in the lecture halls.
The fact that I have any friends in the first place is beyond me really.

Journey to Cork........

...involved a lot of rain.

YSL

YES

Some nice people I took some photos of a while back.
Actually I lie, Boyfriend took the first three.
I'm getting the keys to my house tomorrow. It's been a long time coming, I can feel my brain turn to mush from the lack of stimulation, college will do me some good.
My dad and I are both ready for a break from each other too. Country living is beginning to grate, I long for a bustling metropolis.
The worst thing is the separation from Boyfriend. A whole three hours away, but not far enough for us to admit to a 'long-distance' relationship. My holidays will be spent in the charming student accommodation of NUI Galway and I can't wait.

She's my namesake. I should probably just change this to AudreyLand because she's my favourite, and Feist is a stupid name and has nothing to do with me anyway.
Fuck it, identity is over, you can call me Audrey form now on, not even making it up, that's my name.

The American goes home tomorrow, we drink for her.

A.


After-thought.......... quite obviously a drunken post, probably too late to delete without embarrassment. Oh well!

Deserves a prize.

Should have probably made her smile a bit though. That scowl is positively loathsome.

Currently...

...feeling the effects of bad weather, a mini-drug bust amongst friends and their parents (nothing too serious mind you, just that one mother had a total conniption over nothing) and no proper job to indulge my consumer whims and indulgences.

Alas, there will be sunshine tomorrow. Along with a free house. And Boyfriend will be freed by his captives. Oh and I'll be babysitting a labrador puppy all day.



My goal is to feel as wonderful as she is. Tomorrow is gonna be a good day.

Oh hello there Mr. Sunshine...

...where oh where have you been? I have grass to be lying in.



And friends to be hopping off to the beach with.



And happy films to end the day so I can have happy sleeps.




I can't do it without you. Please come back, I can't afford to go chasing you around the place and college starts soon you know.


- 3rd image is 'imperfectly perfect sunny day' by SANUBIAN, found on deviantart.com -

I've never wanted to smack six people so badly.

Interesting program on the BBC last night called Blood, Sweat and Takeaways. Basically the BBC sent six British young people off to Indonesia and Thailand to work in the food industry that they regularly purchase from. The insight into the food industry there was undoubtedly excellent and worth a prime time broadcast, but the reasoning behind sending along six condescending brats escapes me, and the results were nothing less than cringe-worthy.

Here are Thai and Indonesian people, welcoming tourists and a camera crew into their home, then have those same tourists turn around to tell them how much they pity them and how they should be 'so proud' of what they're doing for their families. If someone came into my home and told me I was comendable for living in what they viewed as an appalling dump, there would be slaps all round.

Of course the working conditions, sex trade and pricing are unjust in these countries, and of course something needs to be done to help spur on the development of industry, agriculture and workers rights in these countries, but it isn't as if the same people working there have no pride. It was nothing less than insulting.

Here's a clip from last night's programme.



Not the best example of what I'm arguing about but still pisses me off.


Some choons throughout the whole thing though.

Poor Boyfriend broke himself.

It was quite funny really, we were running for the bus with many a gin drunk. Two minutes to go and we had quite a distance before us until we reached the bus stop. I sprinted with grace and elegance while he lumbered along behind me when suddenly
whack
slap
crash
he thumped on to the ground face first after crumpling his ankle into a pot hole. Oh how I laughed. It's massive, and purple, hopefully not broken.

Alas, no more skating or surfing for 8 weeks, this may be detrimental to our relationship.

I don't if the three of you who read this know any surfers, but they are the biggest grumps in the world if they haven't surfed in more than two days.

*sigh*

I found something lovely today...

...in a little shop in my town. A 1976, paperback, Puffin edition of Peter Pan. Such lovely illustrations.
Cheered me up no end.

Also there was a festival in my home city last weekend.







Just a lot of street acts and activities, it mainly being a family weekend.



This gentleman was a bit unsettling but was nice nonetheless. He serenaded us while we drank Buckfast in the square. I gave him the last of my bottle.

It's been a while...

...since I last posted. My having a blog is kind of silly, the summer is becoming busier and also I'm finding it harder to be arsed to actually sit down and write stuff.
I much prefer googling pictures of Alison Mosshart and flicking back and forth to the I Love Techno website.

Man I can't wait. October seems like an awful long time away.

Does the Queen call herself 'My Majesty'?

My boyfriend's grads ball is coming up. He repeated but never went to his first one so he decided to not be a dope this time and make his mother happy. I have a lovely dress and now need shoes, a bag and perhaps a hat or headpiece like this



or this



or this



I've been thinking about my own Debs night as a result of all this. It was all going according to plan for me up until five days before the night, when the aforementioned boyfriend decided to break up with me. I luckily had a good friend who acted as my back up date, but as I was so busy I never really even thought about the fact that I was now 'going through a break-up'. Consequently, my debs night was basically me in a full length Roland Mouret ball gown, pissed on gin, smoking and insulting people. The same 3,000 euro ball gown later fell apart on the dance floor, turning it into a see through mini-dress.
''It's supposed to be like that'' I slurred at my sober friends.
Thankfully I bought the dress for just 150 euro. It still hangs limp and sad in two pieces in my wardrobe as a reminder of what not to do on your Debs night.

To add to the humiliation, I woke up in my ex-boyfriend's house the next morning. Me and his sister had decided to have a sleepover for old time's sake apparently.

Ah the Debs. A great Irish institution. I'm incredibly glad I have a second chance.

O.J.

Have you ever noticed that orange juice is yellow? And judging by that picture oranges aren't very orange either.
If you ask me that's sunshine yellow right there.
God damn fraudsters.
Either that, or the colour orange really did come after the fruit. As in the fruit wasn't called an orange because it's orange.

It's like the chicken and egg debate all over again.



I really wish I was at Oxegen.

I am a very happy girl today.

I just attended the best gig I think I have ever attended in all of my young life. I was a bit confused before as to how a N.A.S.A. gig would actually work. To me they just seemed to be DJs or producers and not really responsible for a large part of what they do. How wrong I was. It was an amazingly solid set of remixes and beats that was so incredibly energetic. It was like 2manydjs but more hip-hop inclined. I don't think I've ever heard a remix of Killing in the Name of quite like the one I heard last night.

The Pavilion was the perfect venue too. There can't have been more than 100 people there last night, it felt so exclusive and so much like a secret gig.
So that was all well and good. All through the night however there were rumours of a certain guest making an appearance. Rumours which turned out to be so very true. The surge of the crowd when Kanye West and Kid Cudi came on stage was incredible. I can gladly say I was in the front row, and they were so much fun! They had these funny nerdy dances and West didn't come across as arrogant as I would have expected.

I really can't describe how good this gig was, for a tenner I saw three massive artists on one tiny stage, in one tiny room.
For some reason also, and I wouldn't blame you for not believing me, the bodyguard or PR guy or something took a liking to me as they let some fans up on stage for the final song (apparently N.A.S.A always do this?). In the end my new best friend Stanley let P and I stay on stage while the rest of the fans got booted off. Everytime a bouncer came over to shoo us away, he put his arm up in front of us saying 'It's alright man, they're cool, they're with me'.

We could barely contain our excitement and we were pretty sure we were going to be booted off for looking so obviously like we didn't belong there. Eventually however, they let us into the dressing room where Squeake Clean signed my poster for me. And can I also say he was dead on, he came across as exhausted but was so polite to us. We were also talking to his mother, Pollick, who went up on stage during the show for a bit of a shimmy and a shake.

Et voila;




...just covering my name in that last photo. Pretty cool though eh? It says '*****y!!! Thanks for the love and support!! Keep exploring space!!! Squeake Clean '

What a guy.


And now...I sleep.

NASA

NASA are playing The Pavilion in Cork tomorrow night. The tickets cost all of ten euro from tickets.ie. Unbelievable, I know!

They're another good example of the many talented people out there who aren't famous enough. Makes me hate Paris Hilton even more.

In Memoriam...

...of Fanta Claws. Some idiot mowed her down outside my house.

It's been a testing week. Along with this, an ongoing and messy relationship just got messier and to top it all off I failed an interview for a job I really wanted, plus the job I have at the moment is fucking me around.

Such is life. Things could be a lot worse, at least I still have all my limbs.

I sincerely hope I didn't just jinx myself.

Two ratty days followed by a not so ratty day.

Job.

Our American went missing there yesterday, but thankfully she's been found again.
Was quite scary as she's in Italy at the moment, having arrived at midnight in Genoa the night before last. She had nowhere to go, no Italian and no information about the city. Before she got off the phone with my brother however, she decided to tell him that she, ya know, might just SLEEP ON THE BEACH if she couldn't find a hostel.
What a moron. Genoa. On the beach. Cute little American girl.
Honestly.

My poor brother had to live through yesterday not having a clue what the hell happened as her phone was switched off. It became clear yesterday how much he actually cares about her too. He said to me 'I have this weird, sick feeling in my stomach'. Says a lot really, that's the type of person he is, he couldn't identify his own anxiety.

Moral of the story - don't act like an idiot if you're fending for yourself in a foreign country.
She's getting slaps when I catch her.

Mean reds.

Still don't know the cure. Evidently two new dresses and a pair of shoes don't help. Even if they are particularly lovely dresses and shoes.
I hope it's sunny tomorrow.

Girl Crush #2...

....Karen O.
What a woman. I've been told we're similar in a strange way, me and Karen, but I'm not bragging...

It's been a long time coming...

...and I think you know it too, Cheeseburger. I'll miss you, but I just can't do it anymore. I feel guilty and dirty everytime we're together.
I'm sick of you seducing me with you're cheesy deliciousness, I feel so pathetic everytime I give into you're greasy allure. And sure, I know that no summer day will ever be the same again without you, we'll probably bump into each other at barbeques but...
It's over, I'm sorry.







Blame Banksy.

My lovely American friend...

...has left us on a ferry headed for France.

I'll miss her and her funny ways.

I'm loving Ireland in the meantime, I went for a swim in a lake near home after dinner with my brother and his funny friends. Life is so much better when the sun shines.

Ever had one of those moments.....

...when you go back to a place you haven't been to in years and everything is so much smaller than you remembered? I had that today. Went for a spin to Woodstock in Inistioge, Co. Kilkenny and got the fright of my life. For those of you not familiar with Inistioge, Woodstock is this old historical house that was burnt down sometime during the War of Independence, however the gardens are still open to the public.
I always remembered this house as MASSIVE, but alas, it is not. I felt like Alice when she drinks the potion and grows up really quickly.

Lots of families and little kids were there having picnics and playing football on the croquet lawns, looked like fun.

I, however, had the joy of being dragged around by my nerd of a brother to look at each and every tree. Stupid arborists.
He whooped and congratulated himself everytime he correctly identified a tree, and was doubly pleased when he could remember the Latin name along with it. Dork.

''Oh my gosh, do you speak like, Austrian?''

''Ehm no I don't I'm afraid, I see you're fluent in American though.''

Yes, this is what a young American man in a pub in Dingle asked me as I spoke to my new Austrian (or 'International' as he liked to be referred to) friend over the roar of the pub singer and heavy din of American twangs. Don't get me wrong I can understand how he could have been THAT drunk after the supposed seven *gasp* bottles of beer drunk in the space of two hours. They were some craic all the same, my American friends. Even though they were plain silly, you couldn't help but feel protective of them and enjoy their boyband cleanliness. They all had names like Billy and Nick and even though they were all the same age as me or older they had a real innocence and happiness about them that you couldn't help but be charmed by. I'm glad that I seem to be meeting a lot of Americans this summer, they're a likeable bunch.

My Austrian friend had the same disposition in a funny way, even though he was far from an American high school graduate. He upped and left home one day, had slept rough on London streets and was on a quest to become 'free'. Very independent you might think, but us three Irish girls still took him under our wing and brought him around with us for the two days we were sharing a room with him. He was odd I must admit, a typical European metal head. Long hair and chains poking out everywhere, but terribly sweet all the same and maybe just a little lost and lonely.

What else did I do in Dingle apart from laugh at foreigners? Oh nothing, just ya know, cycled around Slea Head. *cough* 40 km *cough* no big deal...

Dear Blogland...

...going to Dingle. See ya Wednesday. I fed the cat.
Love, Feist xx

Alien Snots.

The other day we brought the American off to this secret little beach, which can be found somewhere on the south coast should you ever care to visit.



The main aim being to catch some 'alien snots' as they are now fondly known in our household. Otherwise known as periwinkles. We also caught a 'juicer' of a crab. Those Americans and their funny speak. Pftt. She does take some good photos though, especially seeing as it was just a point-and-shooter...







Periwinkles are truly scrumptious by the way, billion times better than l'escargot.

Suckiest nightclubs in the land...

..and not even a bit of talent to go with it.
The nightclubs of Ireland need to sort their lives out.

Number one, Mr. Nightclub Man, stop playing Akon, Girls Aloud et al.
Number two, stop charging ridiculous prices for a frickin jaegerbomb.
And number three, open the smoking area, it's all you've got left buddy.

Kudos for the invisible, U.V. visible stamps though. I marvel everytime.

FATM...

...as a lovely person put it.

I know just about everyone is going on about Florence and the Machine, but it's 3.35 in the morining, and I cannot stop listening to this song.

Blake Lively nailed it.

Not a sequined camel toe in sight.

Jeeaaaaalousssyyyy, turning saints into the sea...

Yeah...I never did understand that line. Ace song though.
I am becoming increasingly jealous of the lovely American and her current situation in this world. No, not her button nose, ability to tell funny and interesting stories at the drop of a hat, nothing at all to do with spending lots of time with my beloved brother.

It's this stupid map she's been pouring over:



She is in a bit of a pickle as she'll be needing to decide how she's getting to Spain fairly sharpish. My fingers seem to be turning green as I type.

Alas, I've realised that envy will get me nowhere and so I've resolved to save instead of spending all my measly earnings on shoes, cigarettes and alcohol.
Surely it will all be worth it? Won't it?