Adventures of an asshole

I made a freaking awesome fish soup today and I thought I would give you the recipe so that you to may indulge in culinary experiences.

 

I won’t go with the orthodox measurement because it is more about the feeling anyway. (That’s what she said)

 

Chop up a red onion, some garlic and like a knuckle of green chilli. Melt some butter and put the previously mentioned ingredients in the pot.

 

Fry it.

 

Cut up a handful of potatoes, a carrot, half a red pepper and a carrot sized fresh broccoli.

 

Put it in the pot.

 

Fry with basil and oregano.

 

Ad water and let cook for about 10 minutes.

 

When you feel like it ad two alcoholic (full) glasses of white wine and a cube of vegetable bullion.

 

Let it cook for 5 minutes.

 

Ad a handful of salmon, tuna and scampi.

 

If you want you can ad a little seaweed at the same time.

 

Cook until the seafood is done. (A hint: it stops looking raw and gets a little harder)

 

Serve with a click of crème fraiche and some rocket and baby spinach as garnish.

 

Eat.

 

 

Ingredients:

 

1 handful of potatoes

 

1 handful of salmon, tuna and scampi

 

Basil

 

Oregano

 

2 glasses of white wine

 

1 carrot sized fresh broccoli

 

½ red pepper

 

3 pieces of garlic

 

1 knuckle of green chilli

 

 

The egg, a commonly used staple food is providing people all over the world with essential nutrition.  How the egg should be prepared has few limitations (of which imagination perhaps is the greatest), but one of the most common way to prepare an egg is to boil it. Although a large quantity of boiled eggs is consumed on a daily basis, we often neglect to reflect over the fashion we chose to consume this versatile foodstuff. I would like to give some insight to the matter of how the peeling of an egg should be conducted.

 

The pointy side of the egg is often given unjust favor in this boiling hot issue. This is perhaps due to force of habit, cultural influences or the fact that you just have not given it any consideration. There are several reasons as to why this discrimination towards the rounded side of the egg must end.  This is due to the anatomy of the egg, just as the shell of an egg possess a pointy and a round side it also has a strong and a weak side.  Thus it is only natural to strive towards using the least possible effort to crack the egg open, and the weakest end is of course the rounded end. However, the advantages of eating an egg from the rounded side does not end here, storing and eating the egg from the rounded side will increase the flavor of the egg. This is due to an air pocket close to the rounded side of the

egg. If an egg is placed with the pointy side up, the air bubble will push upwards disturbing the yolk and the albumen (egg white) making the egg less moisture and a less enjoyable meal.

 

Supporters of the pointy end might claim that the journey the knife has to take to separate the top from the bottom is shorter when cutting the pointy end. However, what they fail to take into consideration is that surface of the rounded part of the egg is far more flat than the pointy end giving the knife more effect upon impact.

 

I would like to round off with the suggestion that you try eating your next from the rounded side since it will be both an easier and a tastier eggsperience at the breakfast table.

 

This entry wass given to you in cooperation with my good friend Adam

I saw that one of my aqiantances is going to give birth today or tomorrow. For some reason I can't this song out of my head ever since.

Back from London! There will be a longer entry arriving shortly. For not it is just safe to say that I really enjoyed miself, that the city was wonderfull and that it took my five minutes from leaving the gate at Shannon airport until I saw my first pair of Irish sweat pants. It is nice to be back.

On my way to London. Fuck yeah!

Things to do:

1. See if English Fish n' chips differ from Irish.
2. Visit Camden Lock Market
3. See the changing of the guards.
4. Strawl down Oxford Street.
5. Drink goooooooooood coffee.

The other things I will do I cannot tell you about, but it will be awsome.

Sitting in the big PC-room in the library at UL. I like it. It is silent, people work and I am almost awake. The only thing that misses is a black coffee and a fruit, then it  would feel like a workspace.


Tomorrow I am going to London with Maureen, Michelle and Henrik. It is going to be sweet. That means however that I have to make sure that all my work that I can do before the trip is done. That means that when the lecture and the tutorial of the day is over with and done I will have to go home and keep studying.


My sore throat do not seam to be much better.

Destroy everything. Let the sky cry blood and scorn the earth with thunder. The sprit of fury fills me up with hatred. The monster inside scratches and rips flesh and senew, trying to tare itself loose, free.


PS: Just wanted to write some bad poetry and see how many youtube-clips I could think of.

What was it that you said about Nietzsche?

 

A German guy stands in front of the class and talks about World War Two. I got no problem with his thick accent, which makes all T’s sound like Z’s. What I do have a problem with is the fact that he said that Nietzsche’s concept of the “übermensch” was adopted the Nazis.

 

Well that is true. But the/zee German guy failed to mention that it was a misconception urged on by Nietzsche’s sister who was a nationalist. The thing about the übermensch is that it is not about being genetically evolved, it is about being morally envolved and that the individual has the will to power. In other words, the übermensch is a strong emancipated person who strives to become the best he can.

 

Nietzsche would have hated the goosestepping Nazis.

 

Me and my group in New Media and Culture Studies did our presentation about public broadcasting in USA and the UK. We looked sharp, had our hair-care products in order, wore suits and apparently we are brilliant. At least our lecturer thought so.

We looked goooooooood!

Sitting in a caféteria, drinking coffee and posting different comic youtube-clips on my friends Facebook page. It is quite boring. I guess that I am the modern man. At the moment I am searching for scientific articles about development countries, gender and etnocentrism.

By the way: I miss Spotify.


But at least I look awsome.

I feel sick today. Don't like it. It means that I cannot go to boxing tonight. I hate not being able to train.

We had sushi this Friday at my place. It was nice. On the Saturday I, Michelle, Henrik, Maureen and Emilie went to Bunratty castle and had a medieval banquette. It was nice.




Tasty isn't it? Especially with the toilet paper in the background



Someone made sushi with her hair



Chilling rice and drinking wine



It was a craic



On the way to the castle Maureen tried to make a friend



Succeess!



Bunratty castle



The butler



Cool tattoo!!!



Mmmm zeee German eating zee meat



Dutch girls and ribs



Me



Gingers eat meat



I don't know what happened here

 

I have been back from Scotland for a couple of days now but it has taken some time to try to filter everything, deciding what to write and what to leave between me and Rebecka.

 

We chain-smoked, emptied a bottle of rum and shared our thoughts for two hours. Sitting in Rebecca’s kitchen I felt sincerely happy. Rebecka is one of my best friends, one of the ones I would call if I needed to move a body.  When we talk there is no judgement, no stigma, no right or wrong, we just are. Perfect in our mutual imperfection.

 

Then we went to the Union, which is a student nightclub. Like most student clubs I have been to in my days the Union looked cheap but the mood was high. For some reasons it is very easy to get a high mood in places where young people consume a lot of alcohol. Drunken young people are always in high spirit. It does not take much to make teens happy.

 

We visited some other places and examined the Scottish decadence. What does that mean?

 

Well that is between Rebecka, the night and me.

 

We got home to Rebecka's in the small hours and spent the night talking, drinking, crying, laughing, hugging and sharing. We talked about the fear of rejection, common stupidity, love, sex, hate, fighting, fashion, and the future. I have no idea of when we fell asleep.

 

On the second day, after the resurrection of the hung-over Scandinavians, we had some food and then we went into Edinburgh and headed for the Brewdog pub. As fans of the beer of Brewdog we loved to sit there in a non-bullshit-all-beer-atmosphere of the bar.

 

On the Sunday I went back to Limerick. I had to wait for 15 hours at the airport in Edinburgh to be sure that I was going to make the flight. That time was well spent by consuming massive amounts of coffee, reading various magazines and watching the other travellers.

Heading out in the Scotish night.



Outside Brewdog



An asshole waiting to consume high-quality beer




Happiness in a bottle



There is one Trashy blonde on this picture



Went there, bought the t-shirt



Breakfast





A dragon grinding a street sign



A little ally in Dundee



How I spent my time at the airport

I came back from Scotland a couple of days back. It was awsome. For your information, it is always a pleasure hanging out with Rebecka.

There  will be some pictures and a longer entry is coming up telling you about almost everything. Some things are between me, Rebecka and the creatures of the night.

“Let’s lighten things up and talk about abortion.” It is illegal to abort a child in Ireland. For the life of me I cannot understand why that is. The fact is that I have met a lot of people that should have been terminated while in the womb.

 

To give you an example of what I mean. Last week I was riding the bus. Two chave kids, twelve or so entered the bus and immediately started to provoke the people on the bus.  A chave is a non-educated delinquent who roams the street of every suburb in Ireland and Britain. They are quite easily separated from the rest of the population by their choice of clothing (tracksuits), haircut (broad Mohawk) and demeanour (aggressive and irritating). Think football hooligan and you get the idea. Now the miniaturized brats that entered the bus were just as annoying that you can imagine.

 

“Get out of that fucking seat you fucking pig!” One of the kids said to a guy sitting at the back of the bus.

 

Then one of the little shits saw me and made an advance for my hat. I pushed away his hand and told him to fuck of. His respond was to call me an asshole and urged me to give him my paddy hat. His face showing signs of anger and chromosomal dismay. I asked him if he was mentally challenged. He said:

 

“Yes, what are you gonna do about it?”

 

This is what I wanted to answer:

 

“Nothing that your father hasn’t already done to you and your sister.”

 

I did not say that. Instead I waited for him to loose interest, which he did.

 

This little episode reconfirms a hypothesis that I have had for a long time. Some people should not have kids, in fact they should be nuttered. If the parental units of this little brat could not bring him up to become an individual who respects his fellow man then maybe they should not have had children at all. This also gives me another reason to say something that I have said before: abortions should be legalised in Ireland.

 

But before that happens there is one thing that Ireland is in desperate need for: coat hangers.

I am sitting in Dublin Airport, on my way to Dundee Scotland to spend a weekend with Rebecka, one of my closest friends. So far the trip has gone well. I left the safe confinement of my apartment at 6 am, took a taxi to the bus station and a bus to Dublin.


It was kinda hard going to sleep since sniffels, the beep-beep-beeping of cell phone keys being pressed and the singing of the bus driver irritated me. But I managed.

The only episode mentioning when it comes to the bus trip was that about ten minutes into the bus ride the driver suddenly and forcefully hit the brakes. The reason for the sudden halt was the horse that was running around on the freeway.


The bus did not hit the horse. But the episode gave the guy in the seat behind me an excuse to start a conversation with the woman across from him. He asked her what music she had one her mobile and was shocked that she apparently did not have any RNB on it.


Anyway we arrived at Dublin and now I am on the airport waiting for the gate to open. There is a group of drunk semi-fat girls singing Going to the chapel. I think one of them is getting married. Classy. Nothing says marriage as being drunk as a skunk.

”You look sick, like dead sick”, I told Maureen as I was cutting up and splattering blood all over my shirt.

 

She did not respond by hitting me or checking her temperature. Insteed she looked at me with those big mischievous eyes and happylie responded with the words:

 

“Thank you. But I can be deader.”

 

I guess the rules of what constitutes as a compliment are a bit of when it is Halloween. Yesterday me, Maureen, Henrik, Michelle and Karin went to the Halloween bal that the Student Union organised. It was awsome!

 

We started our ghouls' night out at my place. Fixing the make-up, getting our buzz on and eating pizza. A pritty standard pre-drink, except from the fact that everyone got covered in blood. Maureen kinda became the make-up guru, fixing everyones make-up. Zombies drinking wine with their blood covered mouths are soo classy.

 

Then we took a cab to the ball. We danced all night, scared the shit out of the small kids that looked like zombies and drank Jack Daniels. Rock n roll mother fucker!

 

I saw Superman making out with Wonder Woman, Robin being kicked out because he was to drunk and a fat guy in a toga.

I am very happy that I went. Tomorrow I am going to Dundee, Scotland to spend the weekend with Rebecka. Two words: Fuck yeah!



Dead girl number one eating a slice of pizza



Maureen fixing Michelles make-up


Henrik becoming a zombie fonz


Karin is the cutest little zombie-girl ever


They asked if I was okey. I raised an assuring thumb as I kept trying to reach that treatourus peanut butter


The living dead

I have just returned from my third lesson so far about plagiarism. For some reason the Irish students seem to have a hard time understanding the concept of attributing someone else’s work. What is so hard with putting in a reference?

 

It annoys the crap out of me that valuable time must be wasted to make sure that some fuck-ups don’t fuck up. It is not quantum mechanics, just academic writing.

 

 

Dear Aquiantence,

 

It has been a long time since we met. To be perfectly honest I cannot recall how your voice sounds or if I even liked you when we talked. I keep you as a “friend” on Facebook since I am too lazy to remove you. Basically, you are an artefact of days gone by, one of the scalps I build my mountain of success upon.

 

Having said that, why do you think I would help you getting a “Choco-Cow” in Farmville, kill some punks for you in Mafia Wars or help you zombifie people?

 

I have better ways to waste my time than to dick around on Facebook playing mind numbing games. So please stop sending me these invites or pleads for help.

 

 

While on the subject of people bothering you on the social network. Why do people think that I like that they tag me on pictures of commercial social event posters, on different cartoon pictures where I am described as “the aggressive one” or on pictures where I drink?

 

I, mean, I am not even interested of the fact that you have become a parent, been fired from your job or that you ate water melon yesterday. That you keep bothering me with 50 word status updates of your trip to the mall annoys the shit out of me.

 

It is not that I do not like you. In fact I am almost indifferent to your very existence. So please, the people on Facebook, stop bothering me.

 

Having said that I hope that you are well and do not wish you any harm.

 

Your Facebook pal,

 

The Asshole