Stuck Inside These Four Walls

January 15th, 2006

I’m back from gay Paris, I’m redundant and I honestly don’t know what all the fuss is about being unemployed. I think it gets a hell of a lot of bad press, but once you get into it, it really is quite fun: you get up when you want, you don’t shave, you wear clothes you wore the day before and you can catch up on that glut of DVDs you got for Christmas. You can also laugh at your friends and family if they’re getting stressed about work/being late for work/hating their work etc. There really isn’t a dull moment.

One negative thing I will say about redundancy/unemployment, however, is the social life. Maybe not the angle you’d expect here: the worst thing about this is being invited to things that you’ve absolutely no desire to go to and then having no excuse. Everyone knows you’re unemployed as hell and loving it, so when they see you stall at an invite they just know.

And that, my friends, is no fun. I ended up at the worst birthday party ever last Saturday night as a result. It was so dull everyone ended up just watching DVDs for cryin’ out loud! And I think the strongest substance consumed was an Aspirin for some poor sap probably just hoping it’d take her somewhere- anywhere but this party. Man, it sucked. The identity of the birthday chump shall forever remain a secret. Between myself and the three other guests that turned up. THREE!


In order of preference now, not the most common, I assure you.

Straight in at Number 4: “Dressing worldview in france”. What? Who talks about that kind of stuff here? That’s the kind of nonsense you’d expect over at Babette’s, but not *here*. Dispicable. And I like it.

Number 3 is quite specific: “Genuine belgian waffle recipe research”. *Genuine* research now, not somebody faking a whole load of waffle recipe research so as to appear cool in front of colleagues at their new workplace. Zoomy, I’m guessing you’re responsible for this one… And yet, as I read through his months of his archives (as I do most nights), I discover he has never once provided a recipe, let alone some *genuine research*. Please rectify.

This month’s Number 2 depresses me a little: “In style running shoes”. There’s something very sad and rather bleak about someone Googling that phrase. In January. Worded like that: “in style”. My dear pathetic reader, I sincerely hope you found what you were looking for. Well, obviously not- they found a bunch of Christian nerds. Oh dear. I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all week.

And this week’s non-mover at Number 1: “What happened to caoimheb”. Also in this series: ‘CaoimheB goes to Jail’; ‘CaoimheB loses a kidney’ and ‘Nothing Happened to CaoimheB- She’s Always Been Like That’.

To be honest, I’ve no idea what happened to the second-best green blog in Ireland. Looks like she just couldn’t handle the inferiority that must weigh down on all bl*ggers with the same colour b**g as me. Whatever it is she’s done, it should not be viewed in the office. Some people have the strangest new year’s resolutions.


The powers that be at FuriousThinking have kindly set up a ‘Now Reading’ plugin for my site, but I’m not sure if it’s lowbrow enough for me to use. I mean, it’s *reading*. Reading books! I’d be more comfortable with a ‘Now Listening’ one for the CDs or DVDs I’m consuming that week; or even a ‘Now Consuming Direct From Original Container’ plugin, where I get to link to Tesco cereals and Lidl spirits.

stigmund – Layin’ On His Back, Like A Freight Train Off A Track

Have Another Beer, That’ll Help

January 5th, 2006

Greetings from Homosexual Paris. I am hiding out here, avoiding the inevitable. I am unemployed. No, worse: I am redundant. I came here for my friends’ New Year’s party and finished the long night off by going online and buying a new ticket for the 10th January. So, here I am, spending money I won’t be replacing any time soon and will probably need more urgently when I get back. Perfect.

But it’s all part of my new year’s resolution: spend now, think later. So far so good. I have to say, if 2006 continues anything like this it will be the best year of my life. And I’m confident it will.

*Clicks fingers at passing waiter* “Another steak, my good sir!”

stigmund – The Lowlife Living The High Life

Messages Of A Textually Explicit Nature IV

December 20th, 2005


Bad news on your job Stigmund. Presume you got caught sleeping with the boss again. That’s the way the cookie crumpets.

I had put some magic beans in as a surprise but you’ve ruined it now.

Gary Glitter faces execution by firing squad after paying a 12-year-old girl 8 euro to have sex with him…Should that be funny?

The best part of the prize is beating the other gimps.

I spurted coffee out my mouth when I read that arse-licking. And I wasn’t even drinking coffee.

Just burstin’ bubbles. Someone’s gotta do it.

Tonight it finally hit me: I’m spending Xmas alone : ( Sorry to wake you up.

English as a foreign language doesn’t make any sense, Stigmund. It’s a scam. English is your native language- it can’t become foreign no matter how hard you try. So give it up and come get laughter at 4:30. Diploma! Ha!

Do me a favour and punch that loud bitch in the face. I can hear her over my headphones.

Good luck today.

Hmm stories…I have a rather interesting story about me and a steak. But it really just involves me eating the steak, so it should probably be kept to text.

Thanks for the encouragement. Gay.

stigmund – Emboldening His Name And Signing Off With Irrelevant Lyrics And Jokes Only He Gets

Deep Cuts

December 19th, 2005

I’ve spoken before about The Office moments in my office. Last week took the biscuit. Several biscuits, in fact. All chocolatey ones. The only difference between past comparisons and last week was that last week I became a full-scale character in the story, not just an extra.

As part of the carefully measured and meticulously contained festive office jocularity, work arranged a Kris Kindle for our department. I, predictably, got a girl I’d spoken to once and for whom I couldn’t possibly buy a joke present. Between myself and M, we tried to think up some potential female gifts that would fit the 15 euro limit…

  • 15 euro worth of tampons
  • A huge inflatable man (inflated, then wrapped)
  • 15 euro in sweaty, creased cash in a company envelope
  • A USB cable (more than one if funds allow)
  • A really cool knife
  • 15 euro mobile credit

What I eventually came up with was, in my eyes, very thoughtful and fit the cash limit perfectly. I decided to blow up a photo I took a while ago, of which I am reasonably proud, and frame it. It was taken at the lake in Glendalough, and features a red setter standing in the almost-still lake surrounded by ripples in the water.

The time came for presents to be exchanged and, as it was to remain anonymous, I was looking forward to the recipient’s reaction to my up-to-this-point quality present. The actual distribution of the presents was an ordeal in itself. Hosted in a formal meeting room, all of us seated round a huge board table, everyone could see everything. The presents were given out and the recipient was watched and waited on BY EVERYONE to open it and react. Opening a gift in front of the giver is often daunting- this was horrific. Fake smiles were smiled, insincere thanks were offered and much slagging ensued.

My present was one of the last ones to be opened. Its considerable size in comparison with some other presents (e.g. Racing Nuns) made it conspicuous and there was a bit of banter over whether it was under the price limit. When finally opened, there was a kind of muted reaction. I squirmed and while I don’t think I was blushing, my body temperature had tripled. It was the most awkward exchange I’ve ever experienced. For my part, I got a book entitled, ‘Is it Just Me or is Everything Shit?’ A sweet gift. Kind of sums up how I imagine people in work see me though. Yipee!

Later that day we went out for a team meal. While smalltalking before the meal one colleague, who was bewildered at his own present (a toy car made entirely from recycled material), consoled himself by saying (to me), “Sure someone got C a frame with a picture of a *dog* in it!” [Guffaw] [Stigmund fakes a laugh, shuffles and swallows deeply.]

The meal continued in the same vein. I overheard comments like “They probably just took it down from the B and B they were staying in and wrapped it!” and plenty of laughter. I felt feverishly hot and a bit queasy. Lovely. The sick thing was that they were saying all this as if the person who bought it wasn’t RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM. It was a team Kris Kindle and a team night out. Go team!

Oh, to further authenticise the Office feel, I was made redundant last week. M sent me this to make me feel better.

Me. Redundant.

Originally uploaded by stigmund.

stigmund sees himself as a friend first and boss second. Probably entertainer third.

Customers Are Taking Too Many Free Napkins

December 19th, 2005

Hello. I have stuff to say but not the energy to say it. I have only enough energy to copy-paste this conversation I had with the wonderful Babette over there in The France, as they say in French. (Maybe after I paste it I will have pumped myself with the enormous amount of energy required to write a real post on Stigmund.) We were both in work. We were both on MSN. It was destiny. She is almost as apathetic about her job as my lethargic self, so we do be having a lot to talk about.

Babette: Hihi, as the French say
Stigmund: Ha. The French. The dumbest of all the apes.
Babette: And the smelliest.
Babette: Garlic apes.
Babette: Alcohol-soaked, weed-smokin’ apes.
Stigmund: I’m eating Cadbury’s Roses. It’s Christmas.
Babette: Ah, I miss Christmas.
Babette: I mean Dublin.
Babette: I mean Cadbury’s.
Babette: I’m “dusting” in work
Babette: Translation: “wiping the cupboards with bits of toilet roll”
Babette: have completely given up working
Babette: now I just wipe toilet roll on things
Babette: I’m Wipey McWiperson
Stigmund: There’s a guy in my canteen who serves the food and he always chucks the food on the plate and then has to scoop out the spuds again from the stand to put BACK onto your plate.
Stigmund: His name’s Scoopy McPileOn. Maybe you guys could hook up.
Babette: Have you been updating your blog or making it more Boob-friendly?
Stigmund: Are you referring to yourself when you say BOOB? Sometimes this can become confusing.
Babette: Yes
Stigmund: Ok. Boob McWiperson.
Babette: Where were you when I was lookin for a name for my blog?
Babette: Asswiperson!
Stigmund: The name’s Boob McWiperson.
Babette: And always will be.
Stigmund: “But you can call me Booby”
Stigmund: “Friends call me Wipey”
Stigmund: and so on.
Stigmund: ‘Boob McWiperson – Sales Associate’
Babette: JUNIOR sales associate
Stigmund: Or just ‘Ms. McWiperson – Sales Ass.’
Babette: JUNIOR sales ass.
Stigmund: Haha, Wipey sales ass.
Stigmund: You sales ass you does.
Stigmund: Evenin all! Shoeshine guvnah? Asswipe?

stigmund apologises for any inconvenience


December 12th, 2005

Well. After last weekend’s afore-mentioned ridiculousness at The Village, my musical hopes were at an all-time low arriving at this year’s ‘Demo to Breakthrough’ contest. I went to support the brilliant Liam McDermott, who had reached the final six of the competition. Held at the new Axis Theatre on de Nortsoyd, the final stage of the search for Ireland’s best unsigned act was set. See this cruder than crude site for the background, judging panel and other artists on the night.

Apart from Mail Order Messiahs, an impressive electronic duo, the night was spent just waiting for Liam (who was on last) and enjoying the performance of his two songs selected for the competition: ‘I Need to Get Away’ and ‘Love of my Life (for now)’.

Ray Yeates, director of Axis, preceded the announcement of the winning act by saying that while the performance on the night was important, the judges were mainly focussed on the quality of the songs themselves, consistency (not just one quality song and a B-side) and on finding an act whose songs they could work and record well with- the prize being a fully-funded EP recording and producing.

“And the winner is…Liam McDermott!”

So sweet. You can listen to the winning songs here.


And then Pinky managed to land a sweet gig on RTE’s ‘Other Voices’ show. He is currently down in An Daingean shooting for the show’s next season. His hotel-mates for the week include, among others, Rufus freakin’ Wainwright! I would be drowning in a sea of jealousy if it weren’t for the island of envy where I now bask, savouring the shade of covetousness under the palm tree of begrudgery. If you ask me* Rufus is the most exciting thing happening in music today.

*Stigmund rule #2,166: your very presence here means you’re asking me. Lap it up.

stigmund – biding his time, drinking your wine

Unhappy Meals- And That’s OK

December 7th, 2005

Nothing wrong with unrelated titles, Angry. 😉


Work have employed people to go around giving free massages, cups of tea, coffee to all employees. Absolutely hectic. All I keep hearing is “Sir, would you like a cup of coffee?”, “A head massage perhaps?”, “We’re fresh out of caviar, sir.”

The stress.


I went to see the fabulous Pinky again at The Village Sunday night. It was a gig in support of Amnesty International and he put on a quality show.

However, things took a turn for the worse when Mark Geary took to the stage; the kind of turn you get when you’re in the middle of enjoying an ice cream and someone punches you in the face.

Having heard a bit of chatting down the back of the audience during his first song (inevitable at a gig where there are four individual acts), Mark Geary proceeded to act like your old headmistress from primary school waiting for people to fall silent before him. When that failed miserably he began telling people to shut the f*** up, giving the crowd the finger and generally embarrassing himself and his fans with his arrogance.

It has been a hot topic on a couple of forums since Sunday night. There is a shamefully biased account at Mark’s own site (notably, the most popular conversation ever on where the plug gets pulled on those who dare question his reaction. Note the number of Admin blocks throughout.

When this conversation reached its maximum capacity, a new one began on the same site. It’s essentially the sequel.

Halfway through the thread at his personal site, a separate discussion on the same topic began over at Creative Ireland. Less biased and more lighthearted.

A reference made on CreativeIreland to the “Nazi” attitude on Mark’s personal site then spawned Musicians United for a bit of Shush! A wonderful tribute to his disappointing display.

If he’s ever playing at a venue near you, run.


Leo July 23 – August 22

Satan will take the form of Excel spreadsheet cell G-14 this week and refuse to assume the proper formatting.


I’ve been listening to these wacko sisters strut their stuff this week. They played an interesting gig (which I couldn’t attend) at Whelan’s last Saturday. Anyone else know them? Pretentiously wonderful or wonderfully pretentious?

stigmund needs a woman gonna hold his hand, tell him no lies, make him a happy man

The Pus-drinking Inbreds Are Revolting

December 1st, 2005

So I gradumulated last Saturday. An enjoyable and slightly surreal day. There are certain circumstances in life that, without you knowing beforehand, TV and movies have prepared you for.* They have a convenient knack of making brand new experiences seem quite familiar. Among others, it happened with my first wedding (well, not mine), my first time in the U.S. (the thrilling sensation of being on a giant film set) and my first funeral (I have faked my own death, including the funeral, four times). And of course, my first job in an office. You know how to present yourself, the vernacular, all the faux-pas etc.

Anywise, afterwards we went out for the thraditiondle post-graduation family meal. Stigmund eat steak. Stigmund like steak a lot. Stigmund also manage to get meat sweats before even eating the meat. The sight of 14oz of dead cow barely fitting onto a plate accompanied by a jug of pepper sauce (just for me) was more than enough.

*ending sentences with prepositions? Take that, TEFL.


Creep. Needs sound.

What if we were marsupials?

Sexism alive and well.


I saw the slightly enjoyable Flightplan with Zoomy and Neuro Sunday. By the by, if you happen to arrive forty-five minutes late for a showing of Flightplan, don’t worry, this is all you need to know: Jodie Foster’s daughter has gone missing.

The much-coveted Worst Performance by a Cinema 2005 goes to Vue, Liffey Valley for Saturday’s display. I got to sit beside a true Dublin gent and his 5-year-old son. While the kid was fine, chatting away, just being a kid, his dad gave him a 13 Litre coke, an unsealed Calippo and an open bag of Skittles with the instructions: Now don’t spill that like you did last time! Look, you’re spillin’ it again, gimme that! and so on.

Having flung every bad-parenting prejudice I’ve ever had at the father, I was still gobsmacked when he explained the new Vodafone ad to the boy: This is abou’ enjoyin’ loyf. Enjoyin’ loyf whoyl you can. That’s why your daddy doesn’t work!

Less than 20 seconds later I had moved seven rows down to the front. Half-way through the movie five raggedy girls were dragged out laughing by security. Then, the piece de resistance: just as the plot was winding up, about 5 minutes to go, all the house lights came on. Go Vue!

Another highlight from Liffey Valley…

Tight security at Santa’s Grotto

Originally uploaded by stigmund.

For most people, the first sense to go is hearing. With this guy, it’s dignity.


Last night The First Church of Zoomtards gathered for an emotional celebration of another year of Zoomtard’s goodness to us. There were several highlights: for me, it was the speech given by Janovich recounting all the times Zoomy had sheltered him from his crippling meth addiction. And, of course, EW’s (pronounced ‘eeeww!’) self-penned ‘Song for Zoomy’; praising Zoomy for his gift to her all those years ago: music.


Tonight is the Work Christmas Do. In a shift from traditional festivities, they have generously hired the entire Dundrum Town Centre for what promises to be an exciting night. Every employee gets 5 minutes to sprint around the centre frantically stripping what they can from the shelves, and then gets to keep their night’s stealing as a little Christmas bonus.

It was heralded at the marketing department meeting last week as being “more in touch with the zeitgeist prevalent in Dublin today”, and, according to Group management, this new ethos is vital for all employees to integrate into every aspect of their work going forward.

stigmund – Making The Most Of Then

Don’t Let Me Wait Too Long

November 22nd, 2005

Today is the birthday of both my sisters: they had the grave misfortune of being born exactly two years apart, something we don’t really like to talk about at home. And we’ll thank you not to bring it up.

One sister will be spending it with her new daughter, dancing around the house in her new boots and listening to the Bridget Jones soundtrack while the other, as part of her H. Dip. in youth and community studies, will be spending her evening with young offenders. (Just an evening?)

At least if things get heavy, she can, and no doubt will, break down sobbing: “And it’s my birthday and all!”


Lately I been listening me some great new music courtesy of a fair foreign friend of mine. If you’re not a musical racist, can I recommend Lhasa de Sela’s ‘La Llorona’- even if you don’t speak Spanish, her voice is from another planet. In a good way.

Tété’s ‘A la Faveur de l’Automne’ is another treat and everything I’ve heard from Barbara is purely classic songwriting.

Barbara*, whose eighth anniversary is on Friday, is renowned in France as one of the greatest talents they’ve ever produced but remains virtually unknown in the English-speaking world. I’m confident, however, that this entry will change all that. Also, a major bonus if you understand French: her lyrics are some of the best I’ve ever heard.

*Her real name was Monique and she chose *Barbara* as a stage name. Go figure.


In hot and sexy FuriousThinking news (I like InterCapping), we may have cúpla new members aboard. Angry French Belle and OG (neither of their real names by the way. And, unhelpfully, not their webnames either) will, hopefully, be up and ranting in the near future. On behalf of everyone at FuriousThinking, can I just say how wonderfully apprehensive we all are at this news.

Both are currently looking for suggestions for their sites (names, subject matter, tone etc.) so don’t be shy in the comments box.

I was thinking for AFB, to fully exploit the fact that she resides in La France, a reporting-style blog providing her readers with blow-by-blow accounts (ouch) of all rioting, protesting and surrendering of the French people. Name-wise, I thought would encapsulate the whole French vibe them French people got going on.

For OG, hmmm… There have been several fine suggestions for OG, none of which have taken her fancy. Not knowing who or what OG is exactly, I thought a Google on her name might provide some answers. Returned at the second-highest entry was Worldwide Gay Asian Links. I wish I was joking.

Nonplussed, an Image-search led me here. Then here. And finally here.

I am at a loss as to where to begin with suggestions. One thing I will say, though, is that I am intrigued. Better get your hopes up.

stigmund paved paradise and put up a parking lot

Close Your Eyes And Lean Back Now

November 18th, 2005

Received this today:

Enlarge your penis up to 10 cm or up to 4 inches!

It’s herbal solution what hasn’t side effect, but has 100% guaranteed results!

Don’t loose your chance and but know wihtout doubts, you will be
impressed with results!


Good to know what hasn’t side effects though. Reassuring. Especially when you’re placing a big order for the new year.

So how are we all today? I’m ecstatic. I’ve found it at last: an article that expresses perfectly the very strong feelings I have for Damien Rice.

So, Roy Keane. He is the ultimate drama queen. Every step he takes in life is another five chapters in his future updated biography. Would anyone else kill for a Roy Keane movie?

New Year’s Eve 2005 will see me jetting off to homosexual Paris for a par-tay with some great friends there. Huzzah. No car-burning jokes from me. Just too easy.


This actually happened last week.

American: How old is your daughter?
Mother: 7 weeks now.
American: Oh really? I thought she was like a month or two!

I will end the agony and leave you with a topic that’s close to my heart.

stigmund never fed the fish