Brighter evenings
Okay so its only about 10 minutes of more brightness but I’ll take anything at this stage. Now leaving work at in and around 5 means its still sort of dusk, so hence the birds are still twittering away, god bless their cottens. I have been resisting the urge to take a slingshot and make them silence their twittering. I’m in a happy place this week, this may all change next week. Now that my arms are somewhat back to normal, I can’t speak for my shoulders, I have decided to inflict yet more pain on them by going training again this evening. I finally bit the bullet and attended on Monday. It was a great class, but more cardio then technical and I could have done with a more ease myself back into it workout. Nonetheless I survived. I got cramp in one leg, a stitch in my side and my hamstring was so tight my axekick would have only trouble leprechauns below the regulation height of 2 ft. My partner in crime has been attending regularly judging from the lack of keeling over from her as we headed into our third combination round of jab cross. I was writing my last will and testament and she was warming up to give me another battering. As is polite at the end of 45 minutes of kicking the crap out of someone you thank them.
It was then she uttered the words “You’re not from Roscommon are you?” I had my gloves off and because both my legs weren’t talking to me, they were not moving at all. I replied in the negative. She said I reminded her of a good mate of hers from Roscommon so I explained I was from near there, Westmeath. I told her perhaps there was a cloning machine in the midlands. She seemed happy enough with that, supposedy I even talk like aforementioned friend. Her friend must be a lovely person.
Now don’t get me wrong, Roscommon isn’t bad. There are worse places to come from , like Longford or Meath. If Roscommon didn’t insist on trying to steal Athlone from us every time our back is turned I reckon we would all get along famously. But no, they continue to insist on some parts of Athlone being on the Connaught side and as a result this warrents Athlone being put down as being in Roscommon. Town stealing feckers. As if they don’t have enough of their own towns. Although I can understand the fascination with Athlone, it is a lovely town. With its castles, the Shannon running through it and a great GAA team. I should work for the tourist board 
In other news, how much do I love Anne Hathaway? As if I needed another reason, see
here. Now let me clarify or should I say define the love. Its not in a loving Miriam or Eliza sort of way. Because they are sexy. I love Anne, yes we are on first name terms now, in a sort of she’d be great fun to hang out with sort of way. Much like Goldie Hawn 10 years ago. She just seems so nice and now so into LGBT rights. Can the girl do no wrong? I can’t wait to see her in Rachel’s Getting Married as it looks like she finally has shaken off that nice girl disney role. She was very good in The Devil Wears Pravda but again a nice girl. It shall be interesting to see how she plays the bad girl. I can’t believe she got overlooked in the Golden Globes by Kate Wincealot of all people. Who forgot Angie’s name. Like, what drugs is she taking. Even 90% of the straight women said they would turn for Angie. And this yoke can’t even remember her name???!! The shot of Angie with a forced smile and polite golf clap was classic. I reckon Kate won’t be getting a christmas card or an invite to any more brangelina baby parties.
Met up with the kid last night. I was supposed to cook dinner, as is always with the young un, she wanted mashed potatoes. I don’t know where she gets her obession for potatoes from, honestly. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to cook them, yes you do have to be in a certain frame of mind so we went for drinkies and a bite to eat. I explained to her that I was not dealing well with the fact that she turns 20 this year. I don’t think she passed any heed on me as she continued to tackle her chicken tex-mex wrap and natter away about the future mother-in-law, the cost of shopping and how she’s all excited about some modelling shoot she’s doing today. At this I stopped reminiscing about her younger days and assumed the concerned parental/guardian face. She says photo shoot for modelling, I see serial killer looking for 5ft 9 20 year girls from Westmeath who’s guardians are lesbian. It would be just the day he’s out there.
So at the same time as I ask the whole “Who, where , when , how” and finish the sentence “there better not be a warehouse involved” she ends her sentence with “warehouse in Bray”. Thankfully she is a bit more sensible then I give her credit for. She’s bringing her boyf. One of the conditions of doing any shoot. Another one is no nudity. I’m glad I ordered that pint. These are things you do not need to hear your kid sister talking about. We headed home for family night. Which consisted of the usual Myself and Mammy2 on the couch suggesting various movies whilst she is on the pc updating her new ipod. Eventually she has to go, she gathers up all her stuff, eyes up my buffaloes and takes them too and is gone leaving myself and Mammy2 wondering how family night passed so quickly.
