Latest Entries »

We’re all narcissistic. Apparently.

Filed Under: Social Media Musings by Adam
Sep.01, 2009

I just came across this study after browsing the epicenter of social media news, Mashable, for the first time in about 2 years.

Some people have described the results of the study as jaw-dropping. It found, among other things, that 57% of people believe their activities on social-networking sites are narcissistic in nature. Is that really “jaw-dropping” though? Many social networking sites encourage participation through regular status updates and lets face it, most peoples lives aren’t bubbling with excitement and edge-of-your-seat drama, so they inject a measure of creative storytelling to the mix.

Does that say something about the people who use social networking sites i.e. the fact that people twist and contort the facts of their lives to appear as being more interesting? I wouldn’t necessarily classify this as being narcissistic though. Certainly, if you just look at one side of the coin (in this case the online aspect) then we could quickly come to the conclusion that everybody is seeking out that lime light with their own selfish agenda. However, these traits don’t translate over to real life interactions though, that is to say that the vast majority of people don’t over-exaggerate every detail of their lives when interacting with them in-person.

Facebook, as an example, is a social playground. When we start assuming that everything that happens in this playground is an accurate representation of the characteristics of “Generation Y”, things start to get skewed. Yes, the internet is serious business, but at the same time it shouldn’t be used to stereotype an entire generation given that we still do exist outside this particular medium of communication.

Tags: , ,
read more

Why Indian food is bad…

Filed Under: Drunken Stories by Adam
Aug.30, 2009

Okay, I know that part two of my Oxegen trip report is still “due”. The first half of it was far too long, so I’ve conveniently decided to wait a few months so that I’ll forget all the non-important stuff and only include a mind blowing account of the remainder of the weekend. If only.

For now I’ll skip forward a few weeks to the present time. I’ve just made it home after waiting half an hour in an Indian take away for my end of night food. Indian food is world renowned for it’s unique flavour and it’s interesting to note that Indians are far more popular than Chinese in England, in restaurant terms, which is perhaps the result of the Chinese getting to Ireland first and getting a firm grip of the place before the Indians eventually came to our shores.

“I’ll have a Vindalloo” would usually be my instinctive request if I ever found myself at an Indian takeaway as drunk as a wino on Dole Day. I had a brief look at the menu though, and was overwhelmed with the numbers. Options 1 through 60 all looked the same to me until I caught glimpse of the big notice underneath the conventional menu which offered a Doner Kebab roll and can of coke for €5. Yes please.

A half an hour passed and all my friends got their food – traditional Indian curries and the like. I was still sat there talking about cricket of all things to the sole member of staff. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Ali at the counter sent Mohammad in the kitchen over to the Istanbul across the road to get a few slices of Doner meat. During this time I wondered what the hell Doner meat was. I’m glad I was too drunk at the time (and probably still am) to even begin to comprehend just how little meat goes into this “meat”.

I eventually got my meal, and I use the term “meal” extremely lightly, perhaps to the point where I don’t even classify it as a meal and more so call it a challenge to the stomach. My stomach passed. Thusfar.

Tags: , , ,
read more

Oxegen 09. Trip Report – Thurs/Friday

Filed Under: Drunken Stories, Film and Television by Adam
Jul.16, 2009

I’m back from the temporary bog that is currently Punchestown for almost 24 hours now and even though that should be ample time to recover and really appreciate the whole thing, I still can’t figure out and decide if it was the most breathtaking and electric weekend of my life, or if it was the most depressing and boring crock of shite that I’ll ever have the privilege of spending €250 to see. This blog will mostly be me trying desperately to recall the highs and the lows of the weekend and is more for my own benefit in helping me make heads and tails of the entire experience. Hopefully you might be able to muster up an awkward smile or chuckle at my expense at some point though.

The “fun” all started on Wednesday when I went into work and realised that I was rostered to be on until 5am which would be cutting it fairly tight to catch my 6am bus had I been ready to go but was borderline pisstake given that I hadn’t even found a bag to pack my stuff into! I managed to swap a shift with someone else which gave me a few hours packing time to play with but meant I was forced to pull an all-nighter on the eve of Oxegen. Probably not the best of starts I could have hoped for.

I just about managed to catch the 6am bus after spending my last moments at home desperately trying to transfer my chosen poisons for the weekend of Vodka and Buckfast into plastic bottles. Once on the bus I had to fight with myself to stay awake. An odd slap every so often to the face seemed to do the trick though. The journey did get that little bit easier to cope with once Gift Grub came on the radio with their Oxegen special and all the weather reports and commentary on the radio seemed to indicate that it would be a great weekend with little to no rain. I think I came off the bus with a smile as wide as my face, thinking my decision not to bring welly’s would be vindicated.

How little I knew.

While I was standing around in the freezing cold in Enniscorthy waiting for John to come chugging along in his overloaded Zafira, I thought back to a flyer that I saw in Waterford Bus Station which advertised a special offer of €10 return to Naas. “That could have been useful”, I thought to myself as I happily paid €10.80 for a single journey down the road. I really wished I opted to travel by bus the entire way when I saw John pull up in his people carrier that was practically bulging at the sides, like a fat child who gorged their way through 7 hamburgers, thanks to the tents, sleeping bags, clothes and beer that was packed inside it. I struggled to get into it and there was still 4 people left to clamber in!

If ever there was a moment where I honestly thought “fuck my life”, it was when I sat in the back of that car with a can of Tubourg practically half up my arse and a bag of cans falling onto my head every five minutes which always woke me up from whatever little sleep I was getting and meant I saw the two people in front of me with their tongues down each others throats. I nearly got sick.

Once we found our way to the venue (and believe me, it was no mean feat after passing through the same village three times), we looked for a suitable spot to set up camp. Thankfully – but at the same time frustratingly – one of the guys who I traveled with was a camping expert. I was thankful because I’d never pitched a tent in my life but frustrated because every prospective site we went to was inspected with Ray Mears-esque precision. We eventually set up shop a stones throw away from the Thursday Night Stage and the Xbox Live Stage. Hmmm, the site may have ticked all of Ray Mears’ boxes but his checklist obviously didn’t have anything that asked whether you have the slightest fucking hope of getting some sleep throughout the whole weekend! We were there to stay though as none of us fancied lugging our gear around for another 2 hours while watching him roll about the grass checking for thistles and shit.

As it transpires, pitching a tent is embarassingly easy.

Anyway, once we had our “settlement” up and running there was nothing left to do other than open up the cans, sit back, relax and wait for the music to start. First up was a 80s covers band from Germany. Hearing some of Rock and Rolls greatest ever productions being sung in a distinct German accent was a bit disappointing though, but a few cans later the sound of “Highway Star” was enough to draw me out from our makeshift courtyard with my 2L bottle of vodka and coke and into the chaos that was unfolding in the mosh pits in the field opposite us. I came back with my arms lovingly wrapped around my bottle which had somehow survived the madness unscathed which was more that could be said of my body that emerged with a cocktail of bruises.

On my meandering path back to my tent I couldn’t help but notice that a 6 man tent was being pitched across the way from us in what was a “No Camping Zone”. For some reason, I took particular offense to the fact that I couldn’t now walk straight from our tent to the stage and instead had to take a light detour around this gigantic tent. I figured that I should send them a friendly message… by running through their tent. It wasn’t pegged down, so I thought that I could run straight through it. I’m pretty sure it will materialise as a video on YouTube in the near future, but basically I sprinted across the road and jumped into the front of the tent in the hopes that I’d carry on and come out the other side. Unfortunately for me, there was someone on the other side of the canvas and and I just bounced off them and sent them flying. I stumbled away without a clue of what to do because I didn’t for a second think my plan would fail. There was some awkward moments as I first claimed I couldn’t see the tent due to it blending in with the grass and then changed my story to simply wanting to come over and make an entrance and say hello. We shook hands and somehow I was off the hook. We were to receive poetic justice a few nights later though…

The rest of the tribute bands were pretty decent. There was an AC/DC band that did a great cover of “Let There Be Rock” that once again saw me in the middle of some madness with my bottle of drink being clung onto for dear life! Later on there was a strange band that was playing hip-hop and rap songs from the 90s. Rocking out to an all-white band who are pumping out the likes of MC Hammer with disturbing accuracy was pretty entertaining, not to mention surreal!

When that was all finished, we went off to the fun fair where I haggled with this girl who was selling tickets to a ride she didn’t want to go on. I kind of shot myself in the foot when it turned out that no-one I was with wanted to go on it either! My bottle had very obviously depleted at this stage as I not only went on it twice by myself, but then went and spent another €10 to go on it again. I’m such a weirdo. I can’t really remember how I got back to my tent but was somehow perplexed by how I managed to neatly fold my clothes and put them in the corner yet can’t remember how the fuck I got back to my tent!

I didn’t have time to worry about such anomalies though because it was Friday and it was an early start! The first band I wanted to see was God Is An Astronaut, who were playing in the Green Spheres tent. I wanted to get there early and ended up catching the last 20 minutes or so of the Dirty Epics set. They’re a fun little band who I’ve seen play in the Forum in Waterford a few times before. They play infectiously catchy indie pop songs and try their best to get the crowd going, which is more that can be said for some of the other bands who were playing over the course of the weekend! I managed to wriggle my way up to the front for God Is An Astronaut and they didn’t fail to impress. I’m pretty terrible at remembering the names of songs of sets so all I can say was that I was blown away. It served as the perfect gig to pump me up for the rest of the weekend and I came out of that tent thinking that not even the rain was going to get in the way of me enjoying it! Is it too far-fetched to suggest that this unstoppable feeling that God Is An Astronaut brainwashed into me was what kept me away from the Welly Exchange stall??

Our next stop was over to see James play on the Main Stage. All of their songs seemed pretty alien to me and because we were over to the very right of the stage, sound was quite patchy and the volume ultimately depended on what direction the wind decided to blow in. I was told that they were some big band in the 90s but it wasn’t until they played Come Sit Down that I started to get into it. It also happened to be one of their last songs so it was one of the less enthusiastic performances that I saw over the weekend but they’re a great band to kill time with… if that’s of any compliment at all. It probably isn’t though. I also thought they were a bit gay. Just an observation.

I then went exploring and happened across Therapy? who were playing on the O2 Stage. I only caught the last twenty minutes of their show but I immediately wish that I had told James to fuck off and left earlier to catch the entire show. I hadn’t listened to much of their stuff in quite some time and admittedly a lot of the stuff outside of Troublegum would be as familiar to me as a fist up my nose. I tried my best to fit in around the hardcore fans by humming riffs every now and again as I shimmied my way as close to the front as I could. I’m actually surprised at how well this worked throughout the entire weekend. I shimmied my way to the front of pretty much every act I saw and no-one seemed to mind. Of course when I did get up near the front I’d have nearly bitten the ear off anyone who even dared get past me!

I caught some of Lily Allen on my way back across the arena but told myself that I’d only stay and watch if she was either having some kind of wardrobe malfunction. She wasn’t. I managed to catch the last few minutes of Fight Like Apes who were playing to a pretty full tent. I know that the pissing rain probably had something to do with some smaller bands playing to massive crowds. Fight Like Apes are basically Ireland’s answer to the plethora of electro-indie bands that have been imported across the shores over the years. I really did enjoy what I saw of the gig and was surprised that even people near the back knew the words to the songs. I was creeping around back there in anticipation of Mogwai who were due to play right after.

To express how disappointed I was with Mogwai, I think I’ll talk a bit more about Fight Like Apes, the band I only saw because I wanted to be early for Mogwai. I think they have a very bright future ahead of them. Their music is catchy and upbeat but if I’m allowed one word of criticism it’s that they try a bit too hard to be “random”. I’m all for getting the crowd going but they all they achieve by climbing scaffolding and banging chairs off barriers is distract us from their music – which is quite good.

It was around this time that I had to use one of the toilets. I had managed to get over to the arena when it opened at the beginning of the day when I had to use the ATM. They were spotless then but fast forward 7 hours and take into account that the only food that could be bought comprised of nothing but fat and grease and you have a completely different story. I decided my best course of action was to just queue up behind a girl. Guys only use Portaloos for one reason, and it’s never pretty! My hypothesis was somewhat proven when I saw a guy come out with a big dirty grin on his face and have a girl go in after. Within seconds she ran out and got sick all over the ground! The girl in front of me was armed with bleach and baby wipes, so I was safe as houses. I did leave with a big grin on my face though. God only knows what happened to the poor soul who went in after…

All that was left to do for the night was try get in a good spot for the two headlining bands, Blur and Snow Patrol. Snow Patrol were up first and it was the third best gig I’ve ever seen (right after Tool in the Point in 2006 and God is an Astronaut in Electric Avenue last year). The atmosphere was electric with the entire arena packed with every single fan singing along to every song. I was so caught up in the experience that I even threw a girl up on my shoulders and somehow managed to not drop her even though she was trying her hardest to kill us both. As for Blur, I was torn between seeing them or 2 Many DJ’s. I’ll admit that I was more of an Oasis man during the 90s but the very fact that this could be my only opportunity to see Blur live meant that I chose to stick around. I wasn’t disappointed.

On our way back to our tent we were absolutely gutted to find that someone had set up a tent in the 4ft wide empty square in front of us. Just like that our courtyard was ruined. When we woke up the next morning though, the occupants were to give us all the biggest surprise of the weekend…

(Jesus this is a long post, I’ll try have Sat and Sun’s blog up soon)

Tags: , , , , , ,
read more

Oxegen Preparations

Filed Under: Ramblings by Adam
Jul.08, 2009

In years gone by, I’ve eagerly anticipated Oxegen each Summer, purely for the experience. This is the third year in a row that I have a ticket but it will also be only my first time ever attending it. Be it friends dropping out, getting an offer of twice the face value of the ticket or being in a financial vice grip the week before the event, things just haven’t ever gone as planned. With about 11 hours left before I scurry down to the bus station, I just hope there’s no proverbial spanner thrown into the works!

I’m due to get a bus to New Ross and from there I’ll get a lift up to Punchestown with a friend… in a full car. MCD, the promoters, have been really pushing the whole idea of “Car Pooling” this year but I think that whoever had the brainwave of getting 4 people to stuff themselves into a car along with rucksacks, tents and slabs upon slabs of beer should be shot! I’m trying my best to pack light, but even still, I think I’ll have to bring all my childhood Tetris skills to the table if I don’t want to find myself in a position that even a contortionist would be proud of.

The Oxegen forums were the first place I looked to for advice on what to bring. Some people have even made checklists of essentials and you have to pity the poor women who have made lists which are about quadruple the size of that of the guys. I wouldn’t even bring some of the things that have been suggested if I was moving country, let alone going away for a weekend. I’ve even seen a full-sized mirror being suggested! I eventually found a somewhat realistic list of bare essentials and made my way down to Tesco to try and stock up.

Ranking highly in my list of essentials is alcohol. I’ve decided to go down the route of drinking Buckfast. It doesn’t really cover myself in glory given it’s reputation, but on the other hand I don’t want to polish off a bottle of cheap vodka and end up covering myself in something that’s certainly not glory (but very chunky and full of carrot like bits) on one or more of the nights. Next on my list was Duck Tape. When someone comes flying through my tent and tears the arse out of it, I want to be able to have some chance of being able to go into MacGyver mode and fix it. I then went looking condoms.

This is where I got a bit apprehensive about throwing all these items into the one basket and buying them in my local shop. Buckfast, Duck Tape and Condoms. Riiiiight. There’s nothing I could possibly do to change the very blunt statement that those three items sitting beside each other make. I debated with myself for a few seconds before deciding to leave the Durex for later as I quite like being able to shop in the City!

I am going for the music though. Honest.

Tags: , , ,
read more

An Irish Take on Heatwaves

Filed Under: Ramblings by Adam
Jun.04, 2009

Heatwaves always take the entire Irish population by complete surprise! I mean, we’d consider a good day to be one that involves, at most, 15 minutes of sustained sunshine before it fucks back behind grey clouds and proceeds to piss on us for the rest of the day. Although in these past few days, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Ireland was undergoing an accelerated process of continental drift and was now located somewhere beside Africa.

So with the sun shining down on us, we excitedly root around in our wardrobes for that pair of shorts that we all know is there somewhere. We then look for the suncream that we’ve probably had in the house since 1996, although trying to get anything out of the bottle sounds like some unfortunate soul whose just had a curry that’s been spiked with industrial strength laxatives!

We then feel as if we’re ready to strut our stuff and show our faces in public, complete with the Factor 50 still very visible on our noses! Sure we need factor 50… and lots of it, otherwise the mere talk of sunshine would be enough to bring out the freckles in us. Not only are we proudly showing off our white noses, but we all brandish legs that look more like milk bottles than limbs. All our foreign friends may be sniggering at us but we can at the very least boast that it takes us less time to get dressed in the morning as they’re still wearing about 17 layers of clothes!

The question of what we can do in this glorious weather soon pops up. After all, Ireland isn’t exactly known for its vast array of sunshine activities. This does make it relatively easy for us to make up our mind though and soon enough half the country is flocking to the nearest beach with plastic bags full of beer and snacks – everything we could possibly need to enjoy the day (and what’s left of our suncream of course!). We might be at the beach, but there isn’t a hope in hell that we’ll be going swimming. Oh no, no, no. Swimming is only meant to be done in temperature controlled pools that are laced with chlorine. Although in fairness, swimming in the Irish sea isn’t all that pleasant as there’s this ever-present fear that you’ll swallow some nuclear waste from Sellafield or at the very least get a mouthful of sewage that was just released from that well thought out drain that’s placed at the end of the strand.

The next morning we wake up at like 7am because it’s so fucking bright in the room. By some kind of miracle, the sun is still shining! Never in a million years would we have entertained the suggestion of the possibility of two days of sunshine. We’re not prepared though. We look onto the floor and we can make out the sweat patches on our only pair of shorts from across the room. A trip into the shops is on the cards after it becomes all too apparent that we don’t even have enough suncream left to protect our beloved noses! Of course shopping for suncream is pretty much alien to us. We know we can buy it in Boots because we’ve seen ad’s for it on British Television, but we don’t have a clue where exactly it is. So we carefully walk around the nearest store, going down every aisle and meticulously look at everything to be sure you don’t miss it. After a while you notice not the suncream, but the weird looks you’re getting from the old women around you. You’re a bit miffed at first but soon realise that you’ve accidently wandered down the Pregnancy test aisle.

It’s only after you leave the store having found and paid an extortionate amount of money for the suncream that you start to wonder what the fuck were 60 year olds doing down the Pregnancy Test aisles!

Once again we go to the beach, because after all there’s fuck all else to do. Actually, let me rephrase that. There’s fuck all else you can justify doing. You can justify playing the Xbox for the better part of the day when it’s pissing raining outside, but it’s harder to convince yourself that you’re making the best use of your time doing that when the sun is splitting the rocks.

This time when we get to the beach, all of our jaws drop. The beach is in a state. Instead of treading on sand, we’re tripping over beer cans! Immediately we call the radio stations and complain. “Why can’t the City Council clean all this up?” we all wonder. We point out that when we last went to the beach it was perfectly clean. We fail to mention that we last went to the beach a year a go and even then we left behind all of our rubbish. It wasn’t Liam in the luminous green City Council jacket that cleaned up our mess on that occasion though, it was the ocean.

Heatwaves. In Africa they kill people. In Ireland they just make us realise that we’re filthy animals who expect someone else to clean our mess.

read more

Halfway to 40.

Filed Under: Ramblings by Adam
May.10, 2009

Gulp.

That heading almost makes me quake in my boots. I’ve now reached the tender age of 20. For some it’s a milestone, a time when they reflect on what they’ve already achieved in life and look forward to what the future has in store for them. For me though, turning 20 is nothing short of most pronounced and unmistakeable wake up call I’ve ever experienced.

If we rewind a few years back in time, I can see myself as this enthusiastic and promising teenager. Sure, I spent more time off the rails than I did on them, but I always had potential. And dreams of splendour. If I didn’t make it as a professional footballer, then I’d always have a prolific writing career to fall back on. I felt that the world was indeed my oyster. But fast forward past those all too brief moments of teenage adolescence and as well as wondering where the hell the time went, I can’t help but think bluntly to myself; “Right Adam. That plan didn’t work out so well. Fuck…”

On the other hand, so what?! I’m sure that no one emerges from their teenage years smelling of roses and free of regret. Although suffice to say, my proudest achievement is surviving my turbulent years of adolescence without getting my face kicked in! If I can keep that up for another 20 years I’d be very impressed with myself!

read more

I must be MAD

Filed Under: Ramblings, School and College by Adam
May.03, 2009

No really, I am. Wednesday saw the start of the madness with the M.A.D Ball taking place in the Forum, Waterford. Where most college societies have black-tie balls in hotels, the Media and Design society elect to have a giant fancy dress party instead. I’m not in the Media and Design society, in fact I’m not sure if there even is such a society but when the words fancy dress, not optional and forum are all in the one sentence you can be pretty certain that I’ll be there somewhere.

I had decided to go as a Gorilla, the Cadbury’s Gorilla at that. I collected the costume on the day and bought a few fistfuls of Cadbury’s chocolate to stick into an mountaineers satchel that I found in the house. I found my Guitar Hero drum sticks and the look wad complete. I wasn’t able to try it on before the ball because I was meant to be in work. I really wish I did though. Actually, I really wish I thought the whole thing through!

It really only dawned on me when I got there that I was going to be like a lobster in a pot for the entire night! The suit itself was made out of 100% acrylic, which isn’t exactly the best fabric to allow for air to flow around. I only realised just how dire my situation was when I started drinking as I’m pretty sure I was sweating out the alcohol on the spot. I had about 6 drinks and nothing but sweat pouring out of me to show for it and even that was concealed under layers of synthetic fur! Being able to actually drink was an achievement in itself though as I struggled for a good 5 minutes trying to maneuver the glass into my mouth without snagging my mask and having it spill all over me. I then remembered that there’s such things called straws. I was Method acting. Obviously….

People soon caught onto the fact that I was like a portable patio heater and if they were cold after coming up from the smoking area they’d just latch onto me for a minute to warm up. I didn’t mind though because after all, you don’t dress up as a gorilla to go unnoticed! With alcohol sweating out of me at a ridiculous rate, I decided to really go for it and get some doubles in the hope that at least some of it would be absorbed into my body and not my costume! Also, the possibility (however slight) of actually being able to say I had Drunken Monkey sex was something I had to shoot for! I had just bought another drink when someone comes up behind me and wraps their arms around me. Gorilla hands aren’t the best at holding onto glasses. The girl apologised, but that honestly didn’t stop me from wanting to go all gorilla on her ass!

I took that as a sign that alcohol just wasn’t going to work for me for the rest of the night so from then on I just drank water which I suppose did ensure that I wasn’t going to collapse in a dehydrated mess on some street corner on my walk home.

I did get some free bananas in Centra though. That makes it all worth it!

Cadburys Gorilla

Cadburys Gorilla

On the subject of being mad, I spoke to my course leader during the week about the possibility of repeating second year of Marketing in September. I’ve been all over the place with college this year and put simply am in dire need of divine intervention so to speak! I have two realistic options available to me. I can either go hell for leather between now and the repeats in August in an attempt to try pass the 10 or so subjects I’ll have to do. I can fail up to 2 of those and carry them over to third year. The advantage of doing this is that if I am successful, I can go into 3rd year and not waste a year. The downside is that in order to give myself any chance of passing them, I’d have to sacrifice working for a good chunk of the Summer.

Unfortunately work equals money, money that I’d need to be able to pay to repeat should I fail more than 2 exams. My other option is to just write off this year and focus on September. Major downside to that is it’ll cost the bones of €5k to repeat and I’d also lose my grant for the year. Now if the prospect of a degree and a job aren’t enough to motivate me then surely having my entire net worth invested in my education should be enough to make me put in the work second time around!

I think it’s worth mentioning that I can avoid the fees altogether if I register for exams only. Say if I give it welly between now and August and manage to fail 3 subjects then that means I have to repeat just those 3 subjects next year. If I go that route it means I can’t officially attend any lectures which would effectively mean I’d spend a second year running without going to classes. I don’t really want to do that because I feel that if I’m off the wagon for too long, I’ll never get back on.

Am I crazy, mad even, for preferring to repeat the entire year over every other option available to me? Am I crazy, mad even, for thinking that this option is the only one that allows me to finally do things right and not stumble and struggle forward having to carry subjects and repeat exams every semester? Is paying €5k my only chance at a clean slate?

read more

Summer Bee Here

Filed Under: Ramblings by Adam
Apr.28, 2009

One sure fire way of knowing for certain that Summer has arrived, or at least when mother nature thinks it has, is when you see me running down the street with my head darting in all directions and my arms flailing. No, I’m not on fire – I’ve seen a bee. Or a wasp. Or pretty much anything that can fly and sting me! I can’t fly, or sting people for that matter and that’s why bees – but especially wasps – terrify me to the point that I’m comfortable running down the street looking like a mental home escapee.

It all started when I was 5. I had used all my smarts that I’d developed at the time to craftily trap a wasp behind some curtains. I was still at the age (or at least at the mental age) where you find the sound of bugs being squashed to be hugely entertaining, so I wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. I didn’t know it at the time, but the wasp had material science on its side and my planned attack had an Achilles heel that would scar me for life!

I carefully lined up the wasp with my thumb and bit down on my tongue to improve my concentration and ensure I wouldn’t miss and give my prey the opportunity to flee… or attack and kill me. Just at the right moment, I pounced.

I’ll never forget the pain.

It was as if my thumb was being dropped in and out of a bed of nettles whilst simultaneously being hit with a hammer! As I mentioned though, my plan was doomed to failure. The curtains were net curtains which are about as thick as a single sheet of rationed World War II toilet paper and as I found out on that fateful day, are no good at stopping small needles with sacs of venom from finding their way through and into my beloved thumb!

The sting only took a few days to clear up but from that moment on I felt as if every wasp I saw was planning on avenging their distant cousins death. I wasn’t so scared of bees though and I think it’s easy to explain why when I compare the two creatures to minority groups. The bees are the Jews – hard working and if they’re targeted for something they generally don’t retaliate and move out to some desert somewhere and at worst whimper about being a cursed, persecuted race or some nonsense like that. The wasps on the other hand are the Italian-Americans – feisty and aggressive and if you hurt one of them you can be sure that his family and friends will be after you like flies on shit and sooner or later you’ll find yourself tied up in the back of a car that belongs to someone called Antonio who happens to be involved in “Waste Disposal”. In other words, you don’t fuck with wasps… or Italians!

I haven’t been stung by a wasp since. Once bitten, twice shy and all that jazz. The fear is still omni-present though and once a wasp gets into my “personal space”, I freak out and bolt down the road. If a wasp gets in my face, I see no possible way of getting it to fuck off without being reminded of the nettle-hammer combo all those years a go!

So while many people are donning shorts in this spell of good weather, I’m holed up, praying for rain, sleet and snow so all those flying, venomous freaks will freeze and starve. Maybe then I can actually enjoy a Summer for once without spending it running through streets!

Tags: ,
read more

iPhone on O2. Eeek!

Filed Under: Geekiness by Adam
Apr.27, 2009

I admit that I don’t exactly have the best track record with my phones. Well, up until last month I’d been using the same phone for the past 2 years until I managed to break 3 phones in as many weeks and amazingly only one of which happened when drunk! On paper it would seem as if we could write down a very simple equation: “iphone + adam = recipe for disaster” but even with that very likely possibility in mind, the iPhone has sliding menus. It’s pretty much calling out my name!!! I do want to make a somewhat educated purchase though so I’ve decided to do some research online because the last time I went to do find out more about something from a sales rep, I came away with a membership to a gym!

On the iPhone page on O2.ie, they describe and give an outline of what they call the “O2 Experience Plus” tariff.

Regarding data, they say that it’s 99c per day for data usage (1c per KB up to a max charge of 99c). If I so much as breathe on the 3G network, I’ll be pretty much up to the maximum charge. Do O2 offer any data plans similar to Three’s offering? The apparent “stealth” charge of €30 a month doesn’t really appeal to me.

In the way of texts, the tariff boasts free texts and calls to the O2 Network if I top up by €20 per month. The only problem there is that myself and everyone else I knew on O2 jumped off that ship years a go when the other operators introduced great offers while O2 continued to do nothing but screw us as if we were 12 year old virgins. So this tariff is pretty much useless to me given it’s 13c to send texts to other networks and I’m pretty sure that’s more expensive than it was to send texts back when I was on this sorry excuse for a network a whole two years a go and it’s also 5 times dearer than what I’m currently paying!

Now if I navigate outside of the iPhone subsection of the O2 site, I can see information about the O2 Experience More plan which offers Free texts to all Irish networks if I top up by €20 or more per month. Now they mention nothing about this tariff on the iPhone subsection, is this because it isn’t available for iPhone customers or because they don’t really want to us advertise this superior tariff to us gullible and naive interested buyers? Or perhaps the folks at O2 don’t know their arse from their elbow when it comes to designing informative and usable websites?

They also mention nothing about Text Bundles in the iPhone subsection. I’d hope they’re available but working on the assumption that they aren’t and based off a realistic guess that I’d send 600 texts a month, I’d be liable to spend €78 on texts alone every month. I’ll take a conservative approach with phone calls and say that I’d spend 3 minutes talking every day which adds up to €27 a month. This is all on top of the €30 I’d be charged for data usage and all of a sudden I see I’m paying €135 a month which is over 4 times what I’m currently paying on Three with my INQ1.

If I include the cost of buying the phone itself, it works out as costing €2190 over a twelve month period to use the phone without restricting myself. Yet despite this ****ing astronomical cost, the iPhone’s beautiful interface and massive array of apps still appeal to me but then again I just can’t get that 4 figure cost out of my head and it’s there that this entire journey grinds to a halt.

I’m a student and simply can’t justify spending that much money in a year on anything other than alcohol. Am I a mile off with my estimates or am I on the right track? Does Bill Pay offer any notable benefits over Speakeasy other than the lower cost of the phone? Finally, given that I’m currently on Three, is there any possibility of unlocking an iPhone and being able to use it on Three without features being crippled?

F’kin iPhone!

Tags: , ,
read more

Poker is gay. Gay but Profitable.

Filed Under: Poker by Adam
Apr.26, 2009

There. I’ve said it. Yesterday I went out to the Grand Hotel in Tramore to play the Pro Nutz €120 game. I’ll confess right now that €100 is up there with the most I’ve ever paid into a poker tournament and it really didn’t help that I was still fighting what seemed to be a losing battle against the latest cold that my lovely American guests decided to pass on to me in work! From the moment I sat down at the table, I just felt like spewing away my chips and heading back into Waterford so I could partake in Jamie’s birthday celebrations – Part Deux.

Did I really want to go out though? I mean I had just handed over two weeks rent to play a poker tournament – a feat that some would already describe as borderline insane – and I also felt like a lukewarm Death sitting at the table so it pained me (even more) to think about how I’d feel if I was making shapes on the dance floor. I still had a gigantic hickey on my neck which I wasn’t all to pushed about displaying for all to see and even at the poker tables, despite my best efforts to cover it up, the players were asking did I get hit by a sliotar in the neck. How I wondered if anyone would have believed me earlier on in the week if I had told them that rather than the by now tired excuse of an allergic reaction to aftershave. Anyway, I’m kind of going off on a tangent. This post is about the homosexuality of poker and that’s what I intend on talking about!

The tournament itself got off to a duck arse start. We got a 20k starting stack and 30 minute blinds with all the levels included which meant that nobody was in any rush to go anywhere. I lost 2k at my first table when I missed a few combo draws but changed gears on my next table to build up to close to 30k. This was without getting any massive hands but I was able to value bet effectively and managed to induce the odd bluff here and there. My first big hand of note came when I had just been moved back to my initial table after a few levels. We had just sat down after a break and the table was half empty. I called a raise with A8 and flopped two pair. I called a bet on the flop and raised the turn and river with the river falling another ace, giving me a house. I seemed to have a very rocky image at this table which was proven when I had someone fold Kings to me preflop for the very first time ever! Half of me is still in disbelief that someone could possibly fold Kings preflop but when Dave Tutty raised to 1600 and had another player push in for 4.8, I grabbed my bundle of green 5k chips and reraised to 24k. Dave thought about it for seemingly an age before folding what I assumed to be something like TT or JJ. The guy who pushed had been tilting with a bag of spanners, all I remember is that I hit my set on the flop and he was drawing dead by the turn! Even just thinking back on this hand has me shaking my head in either disgust or disappointment – I can’t quite figure out which and at whom it’s directed! Maybe Dave can shed some light on this sometime?

I continued to accumulate over the next two hours until I lost half my stack by calling a river bet on a straightened board in the hope of chopping it only to be shown a gutshot that had got there. Suddenly I was below average and the possibility of going out in Waterford was once again reignited. I really did feel like shit though. I was shivering like mad in a room that everyone else was complaining was a sweat box and my eyes felt like needles were being probed into them when I looked at anything that resembled light. Even in my lethargic, nigh-on comatosed state, it didn’t take me long to surmise that strobe lights and pints wouldn’t be the solution to all of my problems. Although in saying that, it hasn’t stopped me in the past! I realised that even if I did get knocked out and got the last bus into town, I’d probably just collapse onto a bed, sofa or any surface that could possibly support my weight and not stir for a good twelve hours. So, given that I had now got it into my head that I wasn’t going to be able to make it to the Forum, I decided to dig deep and try bring what little A-game I have to the table.

I went relatively card dead for a while, and managed to keep my head afloat by raising anything remotely connected from late position as I tried to use my tight image to pilfer the blinds. It was working quite well until Colm Reville was moved into my buttons big blind. His blind is stubborn enough to attack on a normal day but it gets even trickier when there’s 20 pints thrown into the mix and when he has the perfect reshove stack of 15BB’s. So I practically postponed the pillaging of the blinds exclusively from late position and started stealing from other areas of the table, targeting some of the other tighter blinds sitting at the table. A big hand for me came when I found QQ under the gun and raised it up to 3.5 times the big blind only to have Ray Kent reshove from late position for what was about 15BB’s. I made the call and he had JJ which didn’t improve meaning I was now up to 97k, just above average!

Not long later, Billy Fitz opened in early position to 14k and I found AK and reraised to 40k. Action went back to him and he shoved for not a whole lot more. Even if he had enough to make an effective 4bet shove, I’m always snap calling Billy in this spot as I’m always a run and jump ahead of his range. He had A8, which (I hope) is the very lower part of his range here. My AK held and I was now one of the chipleaders as we approached the bubble for the final table. The Fox really came into his own here and subtly played up this fact. He was hovering below average himself but urged everyone not to go crazy on the bubble – while stealing left, right and centre of course :) . He was directly to my right so I was really losing out as he was always getting into the pots first and my small blind also found its way over to him on a few occasions. I did manage to get most of them back though when I got two streets of value from second pair against him.

Fast forward 15 minutes and we were on the final table with 5 players going to get paid. I was third in chips. We lose a player on the very first hand with blind on blind action. AQ for the small blind and AA the big blind who was about to become a monstrous chipleader. I steal a few hands with Ace-rag before picking up AK and having a shortstacked big blind shove over my raise. I call and am racing against 22 but I never get off the line as the flop falls 2-3-3. I build my stack up once again over the next hour as the entire table seems to have died until my good mate Ollie St John limps his button, even though he’s shortstacked. The small blind, who’d been playing very well, decides to pounce on this and shoves. I’m lucky enough to look down at KK and snap it. Ollie passes Ace-8 face up and the small blind sheepishly turns over T-4o. It’s all about timing in this game and he was just extremely unlucky to run into the card rack that I was becoming! I hold and knock him out.

Play continues at a snails pace until I pick up QQ in mid position and make my standard raise which is just under 3 times the big blind. The Big Blind is the same player who shoved with the deuces earlier and he once again shoves. He’s even shorter than the last time we tangled after losing a big pot a few hands earlier and his shove doesn’t even cover my raise! He has A4 and once again my big hands hold. We’re now down to 7 players and I have around 200k. Two hands later and I look down at AA for the first time in the tournament. The chipleader raises from early position to 20k. I reraise to 80k and then the small blind shoves for 128k! I nearly jizzed in my pants Lonely Island style when the chipleader announces that he too is all-in! I fist-pump-jizz call but little do I realise that absolute carnage is lurking around the corner!

So I’m all-in, in a three way pot that makes up over 60% of all the chips in play, with aces! The small blind has JJ, the chipleader has KK. Paul Warren then says that he folded KJ! It’s then that I make the mistake of thinking about the money – €2.2k for the winner, €1500 for second. With 60% of the chips, I could comfortably blind out to second and still ought to be castrated as punishment for not taking it down. I’d been running extremely well all day and apart from the one brainfart where I called off half my stack over three streets in the hope of chopping a pot, I’d also been playing well. I honestly can’t remember the flop. What I will remember though, and I swear I’ll have it with me for life, is the pre-pubescent screeches of delight and the pounding of the table from Vinny as it came down Jack-shit-shit fuckity fuck fuck! FUUUUUUUCCCCCCK!!!! If there was any consolation to be had from this it’s that of the only two fucking outs in the deck, it was the one that didn’t force me to run down Main St and dive off the pier that did indeed fall. So I suppose I can be thankful for that at least. This hand just encapsulated Poker’s homosexuality for me. No game should be allowed to be so gay. It’s just wrong.

I was still left with 120k in chips though and with blinds at 5k/10k, I still had room to play. As a tournament blogger, I witness bad beats for a living so at this stage I just shrug them off and comment on their sickness before getting back to business. I chipped back up to 220k without much difficulty as play had slowed to a complete crawl. It was then that it was suggested that we just break the bubble there and then. There were 7 players left and only 5 due to get paid. We were playing for 10 hours at this stage so we agreed on taking a total of €400 off 1st and 2nd and giving €200 to 6th and 7th. The game was suddenly on steroids and two players were eliminated in quick succession. I then knocked out Ollie in 5th when he shoved from the small blind into my big blind. I saw an Ace which made the call easy and a Ten along with it which made it even easier. Ollie had actually picked up 77 so was unlucky for me to actually have a legitimate hand as I was probably calling there with a whole lot worse. Needless to say I hit my Ace and Ollie exited in 5th.

When we were four handed, Fox was in an ideal position. He had a complete weak-tight nit to his left who was opting to play Mafia Wars on a laptop across the room instead of playing hands and he also had direct position on me and Fox isn’t afraid of the resteal if he smells a rat. Despite Fox being to my direct left or right for the entire tournament, we had avoided a clash thus far. That was until he raised the 5th hand in a row. He raises to 35k under the gun with blinds at 6k/12k and I make it 105k with A7 in the big blind. Fox’s raising range was incredibly wide at this point of the tournament and I hadn’t defended my big blind in a long time. I’m playing a stack of just over 215k so I realise that I’ve committed myself to this pot. And I’m not very happy about it. I also realise that I’m behind in this hand when he starts asking for counts. I try talking Fox out of it saying that I think I’m ahead and point out that I’ve already committed myself to the hand. After thinking for a while he just flat calls. I shove the flop in the dark for a half pot bet and it comes Q58 with a flush draw. He isn’t all that happy but calls with AQ and I fail to improve. I’m not sure if I’m happy with how I played this hand or not. I’m pretty sure he folds out all his better aces on the flop (AT+) and I think I did just enough preflop to make him think I held a pair. I’m not sure if he folds underpairs on the flop though or even if he just flat calls with them preflop. I finish 4th anyway for €520. I tip the €20 and am offered a lift back into town which I jump at.

It’s 3am and I’m hoping that I can meet up with people from The Forum who I assume are meandering back towards town at this time. They’re nowhere to be found though and the forum is deserted with the exception of some poor soul who’s slouched over a railing getting sick all over themselves, something which isn’t all that distant of a memory for me! I make my way back into town and find a few people but the majority are already gone. If only I had a phone that worked. I think I may as well put that €520 into my yearly phone fund just to be safe!

Tags: , , ,
read more
Powered by WordPress. Theme: Motion by 85ideas.