Archive for September, 2005

Thank You For This Bitter Knowledge

Thursday, September 29th, 2005


Yes, my little kitchen appliances, as of Monday night your beloved stigmund is an uncle (last Monday night, dolt). This means I get to make sleazy jokes, get drunk at family get-togethers and make awful speeches at weddings. And thrown in at no extra cost, a niece. While her chances of playing in the Premiership are somewhat diminished (now that she’s not a boy and all), I’m still looking forward to any influence I get to have on her. Good or bad. We’ve already brainwashed my little cousin DJ into calling every black artist Stevie Wonder and subsequently demanding to hear ‘Superstition’. With the increased responsibility of being an uncle, the possibilities are endless.

I realised during the week that the wonderful embee works in the same building as me. How thrilling! I could be passing her every day. She could even be that girl I tripped up in the canteen yesterday. Although it’s hard to tell from embee’s photos, this girl had so much coleslaw in her eyes.

Saturday will see the ten year anniversary of Robert Overcracker; the clever young man who, for charity, drove off the Niagara Falls ON A JET SKI. Unfortunately his parachute didn’t open. This weekend, why not drive off a great height to honour this hero.

Mr. Overcracker

Originally uploaded by stigmund.

stigmund don’t check for no superficial, it’s got to be beneficial

Messages Of A Textually Explicit Nature II

Saturday, September 24th, 2005


Hey bastard. Your dad is actually someone else. Sorry I had to tell you this way.

I did. She found it and said it was “in the shitter”. So posh.

I’ve just eaten 9 Taxi bars. Fancy a chat?

It’s not the crime, it’s the attitude.

For a laugh: just seen GM’s photo in Spur’s Steak House Challenge with ‘FAIL’ written over it. Haha.

Who are you and where do you come from that you throw sandwiches out of windows?

I’d bloody love her to be widowed.

Don’t thank me, thank my speech writer, Richard Whitely.

You’ve really hit the mouse on the head with that one.

I’m vulnerable and honest with you and you start threatening assault. I’ve rung the police.

Just voicemail. Dickhead.

stigmund – Still A Boy

Foolproof…I Wish I Was

Friday, September 23rd, 2005

My brother works in a secondary school and he overheard this conversation yesterday:

TEACHER: Richard, would you ever get involved in voluntary work?

RICHARD: If I had to.


Enjoying a kebab yesterday in George’s Street’s Sultan my eye caught an elderly guy a few booths in front of me who was laughing to himself. Before he got up to leave he began shouting to the rest of the people there, “love is blind!”. He repeated it a couple more times before he got up and then, eyeballing the guy beind the counter asked, “is love blind?” Before he had a chance to respond (I’m pretty sure he didn’t know the answer), the guy shouted (with much finger-pointing) “love IS blind!” and clattered into the glass front, missing the door.

This website is mind-blowing and not just because it uses the brilliant phrase “Pillars of Creation in a Star-forming Region”.


I enjoy listening to people’s dreams as little as the next person but, gosh darn it, if I can’t be self-obsessed here, where can I?…be?…self-obsessed?

So the first dream last night (yes, there are several) involved me watching a shock documentary where it was revealed that JUDGE JUDY WAS NOT A JUDGE! AND HER NAME WAS NOT JUDY! She was simply the winner of a reality TV show (previously unaired) where women competed to become the lippy judge we all know and love on Judge Judy! The winner seemed a lot younger than the character she was going to play (all would be changed with make-up, of course) and even her accent was different! It was not pleasant. I woke up in a sweat, repeating the words, “real cases. Real people. Real cases. Real people.”

The second was only a few seconds long but it was unforgettable. It simply involved Maddox and Mimi introducing themselves to each other. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was enough. Maddox! And Mimi! In the same room!

This dream sequence ended with the camera panning back from my current dream* to me watching the ‘Judge Judy Revealed’ show again and eating some fantastic pizza. All the best dreams end with a gratuitous ‘Stigmund Eating Pizza’ scene.

*Does that happen to anyone else? When I begin waking up my First Person Vision in my dream becomes Third Person and backs out until I’m fully awake and the dream becomes something to look back on from an awake state.

My sister just texted me to say that The Fetus kept her up all night “jumping and bouncing on my bladder”. Cheeky little runt. Girl, he has got to go.

stigmund dares you to come over here and say that

Just Another Great Day Without You

Thursday, September 22nd, 2005

There is a blind man who takes my bus from the same bus stop as me each morning. The bus drivers all seem to know him and always make sure to stop the bus right in front of him to ease his ascent. Because buses are relatively infrequent where I live, the bus tends to be quite full when it arrives and seats are few. Recently I’ve noticed something: when the bus comes into view everyone gets up from the bench or finishes their cigarette or whatever to strategically (and shamelessly) position themselves around the blind man. Try and imagine the scene as everyone gets as close to him as possible without touching him. It’s a strange sight to see as, while people wouldn’t dare stand that close to a seeing person, every morning this blind guy suddenly becomes (for about 40 seconds) the Belle O’ the Bus Stop.

Anseo had the pleasure of my company again Monday night. Myself and a few like-minded music fans (I couldn’t be bothered giving psuedonyms or initials. What are you going to do about it?) enjoyed the sweet sounds of Pinky’s guitar picking and, of course, his voice. Anseo, while a bit divish, is a fantastic pub and I can reveal that this week it entered Stigmund’s Top 10 Dublin Drinking Emporiums.

I am still not an uncle! My sister’s due ejection date was last Friday but still no news. I really think it’s time she showed that fetus who’s boss, you know? On the other hand, I remember well the good ol’ days in the womb. Just sitting there. All warm, sleeping, being fed through a tube. You really can’t blame the little tyke.

I watched the harrowing ‘Dancer in the Dark’ Tuesday night. It’s one of those films where, from the outset, you just know the protagonist is going to get mistreated/screwed over/abused/robbed/pillaged (one or more of the above). I found myself after about 15 minutes actually making a concerted effort to resist Bjork’s charm and powerful graciousness so I wouldn’t end up a blubbering disgrace at the end. While I was entranced and bewitched and more by her (her singing ability was never in question but hot dang, that girl can act) I, oddly enough, didn’t give in. Not something I’m normally good at. I like to think of myself as a man for the 21st century, rejecting the Macho Man/Lad Culture. And I also like to remind people of that when the lights go up and I am found hiding my face in my hands, with tears and snot flowing freely and my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

So yesterday, my third consecutive day with NOTHING to do at work (today is my fourth), I found myself Image-Googling Bjork. She is beautiful. The most beautiful cuckoo-lady on the planet.

I can’t finish without mentioning the unspeakable tragedy in Italy this week. Whoever committed this murder must be brought to justice immediately. There are some horrendous people in this world. To the younger or more sensitive furiousthinking readers among you: scroll with caution.


Originally uploaded by stigmund.

stigmund – Gives the World its Saddest Sound

More Than Half Of What I Say Is Meaningless

Friday, September 16th, 2005

One of my teachers in school used to consistently spout So Stupid It’s Brilliant comments during class. Her mouth would literally drip with golden drops of comic genius (picture it). I found them so funny I would write them down in my copybook*. Today, dear furiousthinking readers, I impart this wisdom to you.

*Shame they’re never used outside of school, actually. One of the things I used to pine for in college was a good ol’ copybook.

NOTE: The following were correct and complete sentences (in her eyes) and were never clarified or rectified. Have a read and see if you don’t love her:

Things like housewives would be encouraged to get jobs.

I wouldn’t 100% agree with that 100%.

They’re completing the better the job they do the more money they get.

It’s not the usual eight working days.

There were more points for the layout than for the actual what you
said on the report.

A one-person household bends up paying.

That’s what I think now, honestly, to be honest.

In effective, you’d have to find out.

Have I answered your Martin?

You know what you’re going to expect.

Why would the government try to get indigenous firms to stay in the country?

You need to know it but not.

They’re not gonna give you the loan for infinite.

Her 3 examples of ‘products’: a chocolate bar, a digestive, a chocolate digestive

And things like that nature.

You can think you know it sure but just wait till you look it up till you just see.

Do you get what I make?

Self-employed people have greater scope to be dishonest, to be truthful.

If you went up in a blaze for health and safety reasons.

Kill two problems with the one bird.

stigmund – The Boy In The Trouble

Too Late, I Already Found What I Was Looking For

Thursday, September 15th, 2005

I met The Bonz for pizza after work today at the unusually titled, ‘Pizza Stop’. Ok, it’s not that unusual. It’s just that the place is staffed and run by REAL LIVE ITALIANS and it seems a shame that they could, with genuine cause, use an Italian name- unlike, for example, having a chip shop in Dolphin’s Barn with some Polish guy behind the counter and calling it Luigi’s. Anyway, one of the best pizza places in town, methinks. It’s on Chatham Lane, just off Harry Street, if you ever get the notion.


A mobile phone conversation overheard last night on the bus (in its entirety):

“It’s me…. Whatcha ge’ in your Junio’? …Where are ya? …Any gargle knockin’ abou’? …What abou’ blow? …Are you locked? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Eric just called me to say he’s coming to Dublin in November! Eric is French. He is enormously funny and I can’t wait to see him. He’s one of the few people I know who will do pretty much anything to make somebody laugh. I remember once at a party picking out a girl at least two leagues above him and telling him to go chat her up. He tried to be all suave and mysterious, “Hi, you seem lost…” while I cracked up, watching the show from the other side of the room. The conversation ended when he fell over a radiator.

The Company have more than likely agreed to extend my contract and “responsibilities”. Otherwise I’m on the dole come Monday. Either way, I’m very happy. The happiest I’ve been in some time. Despite the weather today. Man, that sideways rain is a killer. When the wind just takes it and makes sure every piece of your clothing gets it. EVERY PIECE.

stigmund – Computed His Way To Your Heart

You Are All Fools In Love

Monday, September 12th, 2005


This morning I chuckled in the shower at some of the fantastic names Lidl give their own-brand cosmetics. Their shampoo and conditioner 2 in 1: ‘Wash and Finish’. Vidal Sassoon never did specify, did they? And secondly, Lidl’s shower gel: ‘Energy Upload’. Yes! If only you could. I have just awoken from a ten minute snooze at my desk. My computer had reverted to screensaver mode. WHILE I SLEPT.

“The computer has deactivated due to inactivity”.

We have so much in common.

You see, I’m all bounced out after some hectic September 11th festivities. Although I was kindly escorted by K, C and Aiya both ways, which was sweet.

My overwhelming knackeredness means cancelling Pinky plans at Anseo tonight. I detest pulling out on social activities but it has to be done.

I had to endure a nauseating conversation on the bus this morning between two moronic college-goers sitting behind me. They spoke about how much money they had in their bank accounts, how much money their parents give them a week and how much money they spend daily on lattes. I vomited in their laps as I got up to demonstrate my disapproval.

Some dramatic developments in Stigmund’s World: an old friend of mine has testicular cancer and had to be operated on. Furthermore, chemotherapy has been discussed. Shocking stuff. For me, at least. He is, in his own words, maintaining a good sense of tumor about the whole thing. O, I salute you.


There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe
She had so many children
Her uterus fell out.

stigmund – Hangin’ Out The Passenger Side of His Best Friends’ Ride

Privately Probing The Public Rooms

Thursday, September 8th, 2005

My heart is broken. Henry, why are you so good? Nay, how can you be completely and utterly ineffectve for 68 minutes and then score a better individual goal than we’ve scored in my lifetime? Forget it. I don’t want to hear it, Thierry. If that is your real name.

I remember watching France and Ireland earlier in the group when Zizu was still retired. My brother-in-law, P, kept referring to him as “Zizi” which, in French kids’ slang, is the equivalent of “willy” or “micky”. He kept taunting the TV with lines like, “where’s your precious Zizi now!” and “not so brave without your Zizi, are you!”

Yesterday I was invited by F to celebrate September 11th with him and his friends. I agreed to go. There will be a bouncing castle! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have even considered going. I can’t stand to be anywhere near him.

I’m listening to Harmony by Clinic. If I was stalking someone in a car, I’d listen to this song. I’m not saying I’m not into stalking, I just can’t drive.

stigmund – Wasting His Time And Yours

The Lame Game

Wednesday, September 7th, 2005


Saw Samantha Mumba wandering around Jervis Street Shopping Centre. Even stranger looking in real life.

Brian Dobson presented me with a prize at our school prizegiving.

My job as a waiter often gave me some up-close experiences with The Famed. I have served (and not spilled) :

Brian O’Driscoll, Mary McAleese, Niall Quinn, DJ Carey, David Norris, Marian “he’s absolutely gorgeous!” Finucane, Mary Harney, Dick Spring, Desmond Tutu and Mary Robinson.

I stalked stick insect MTV presenter/model Donna Air down Grafton Street.

I met Fabian Barthez and Dwight Yorke (during their United days) at Sosume* on George’s St, Dublin.

Laughed at Louis Walsh on Dame St.

I met and spoke with England international footballer John Barnes, Irish international Phil Babb, and England reject David James when I was about 9. I remember irritating the hell out of James as he had this bleached blonde afro hairstyle that just screamed out for a vigorous rubbing. Which I provided. He kept suggesting, “why don’t you go talk to Johnnie (Barnes)?” Cos he hasn’t got fur for hair, you dolt! *rub rub*

*now The Dragon. And a gay bar. I wonder if they still call in.


Family friends of ours were best buddies with U2 in their Mount Temple days- Larry Mullen even went to their wedding!

A friend of my parents’ recently interviewed Bill Clinton. He told us he was surprisingly boring in real life. (“Well, I’m a pretty lousy president”)

My dad palled around with Brian Kerr back in the day. He even recognised my dad at a Shelbourne match a couple of years ago! I confess, I was impressed.

A few friends of mine sang backing vocals for The Cranberries on their ‘To the Faithful Departed’ album.

My mam was head girl in secondary school and got Thin Lizzy to play at her end of year school dance.

stigmund did not have sexual relations with that woman

I Must Walk Where Squirrels Scamper

Wednesday, September 7th, 2005


Work arranged for Republic Of Loose to play a gig for us in the canteen the other day! There was free ice cream, the sun was shining (the gig was out on the 5th floor balcony-decking-style thing) and their set included a zippy rendition of Michael Jackson’s Human Nature. Best work lunch ever.

My French lecturer (in both senses of the term: he is French and he teaches French) emailed me this afternoon to tell me I passed the Diplome de Francais des Affaires exam I did in May…with a Merit. Oh yes. I’m hoping it comes in handy soon…

Having watched the enjoyable Red Eye and chilled chez moi watching the 100 Greatest Pop Videos with K and C, I stayed up til 3 watching Fear. It’s a guilty pleasure movie and I loved it. Stumbling on movies late at night often increases the enjoyment for me; I feel like I discovered it or something.


Commenting this afternoon on the heaps of salad I frequently take with my lunch, M remarked “man, you really take the piss with the salad”. In my head I heard it as a wonderful alternative to ‘rough with the smooth’ and laughed and subsequently choke-coughed on my couscous. As a matter of fact I normally take aggressive objection to people commenting on the food I eat, it really grinds my gears. Particular hatred is reserved for:

What’s that? {I reply} Oh, I really don’t like that.

Eeeew, I can’t stand [food I’m eating]! How can you eat that!

You got enough there?! [To which I reply, “Oh don’t worry, I’m bulemic!” and leave soon after to go to the bathroom.]

1. I never take objection to the food you eat
2. I wasn’t going to offer you any anyway
3. No-one asked!

I still harbour some painfully vivid memories of lunchtime at primary school when kids used to grab my sandwich, open it, peer inside and erupt a passionate “eeuggh!” at the ‘horrors’ inside: usually cheese or egg or tapeworm or something.


I went to visit a friend in Milltown last night and, man, Temple Road may well be Dublin’s Sweetest Street. Marred only by Temple Square (a generic double-click estate that simply does not belong there), the road is lined with huge, overhanging, deciduous trees, and is home to some severely impressive red-brick mansions with large driveways with names like Rockford and Lonsdale. It’s also rather quiet and even pleasant to walk down. But I bet its residents are snotty middle-management types who enjoy the street purely for its exclusiveness. What a cheap shot. I’m gone.

stigmund – Works In Seconds. Lasts For Hours