Every Day is Election Day

Brennan wasn’t all that impressed but I thought she was pretty great, if I’m honest!

If you haven’t seen either of these yet, be sure to give them some time. Each moving in its own way.

Ted Kennedy addresses the Democratic National Convention:

Michelle Obama delivers the daily keynote:

Well done to the fabulous David O’Doherty for his success over the weekend at the Edinburgh Fringe!

Stand-up comic David O’Doherty has been handed the UK’s most prestigious comedy award.

The charismatic Irishman scooped the Intelligent Finance Comedy Awards 2008 - and £8,000 prize money - for his show at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

Nica Burns, director of the awards, described his work as “utterly delightful”.

“An hour with David O’Doherty fills the world with laughter and charm and sends you home on a wave of happiness,” she added.

We met Dave when he played UCD last October - we had the odd privilege of buying him his pre-gig pepperoni - and a nicer guy you honestly couldn’t meet. Congrats to him!

The latest: Michael Phelps returns to his tank at Sea World.

“Those seated in the first 14 rows should be prepared to get soaked,” Bowman said, admitting that Phelps’ powerful dolphin kicks would be added to the new program. “Also, Michael’s two friends, [Olympic swimmers] Ryan [Lochte] and Jason [Lezak], will open the show with their humorous beach ball antics.”

Beginning with the 1985’s “Baby Michael Celebration,” Phelps has entertained SeaWorld audiences for over 20 years. Spectators are not only enthralled with Phelps’ exploits in the water, but his abnormally large torso, unusually small lower body, double-jointed ankles, gargantuan eating habits, the slurring, almost human methods of vocalization he uses to communicate, and his odd-looking goggle-covered face, all of which combine to make him the most unusual sight in all of Florida.

“I have never seen a stranger yet more majestic-looking creature,” said husband and father of three Glenn McKay. “Last year we went to SeaWorld San Diego and saw [Michael's female counterpart] Michelle, and even though the show was a little funnier than this one, nothing compares to watching Michael almost hover over the water after launching his trainer into the air.”

“Michelle” is SeaWorld’s moniker for the Olympic gold medalist who was born Natalie Coughlin.

Quite unspeakably hilarious. One can only hope it doesn’t go the way of Mongrel any time soon.

Our pal Marty (the Betty Boop) blogs the following from Beijing:

I have been asked in recent days was it true that I met Cindy Crawford here in Beijing. Of course I did. She waved to me and asked who did I think would win the All Ireland this year. And pigs will fly.

Anyway here are the facts. I was filming a sequence in the Water Cube when there was a great commotion a few hundred yards from our location.

Being an inquisitive type I and my ace cameraman Kieran Slyne who has a lovely Cork accent by the way took off with speed in pursuit of one of the world’s most beautiful women.

I shouted, as you do in these situations, ‘Marty Morrissey of RTÉ Sport Ireland (you just got to mention the Irish angle at every opportunity over here!). ‘What do think of the Beijing Olympics?’ She smiled and before the poor girl could answer me she was whisked away by an army of bodyguards.

Not exactly pleased with this response, I went into third gear, revved into fourth and slid into fifth. All of this slick action happened while still holding the boom microphone that was attached to Kieran’s camera. So off we went running down the elevator that ran beside the stairs she was now descending.

Like any gentleman I waited at the bottom of the stairs and repeated my question. ‘What do you think of the Beijing Olympics?’

This time she looked lovingly into my eyes and purred ‘absolutely great’ before again being surrounded by obviously quite jealous bodyguards who didn’t want her to get to know me.

But you know true love never runs smooth. I know Cindy and I will meet again some day.

P.S. All of this is on tape and I have it… forever.

Read more here. What a hero - did anyone else see his special report on Women’s Beach Volleyball last night? That’s a TV licence fee justified right there.

Read more: Marty’s Letter from Beijing [The Clare People]

Know that application on the Bepo (what Mam insists on calling it!) and Facebook, where you can clarify how you know your friends? Here are some of the more amusing things my friends have to say about me, and how we all became friends:

1. Ciaran (Tayto) - the best friend
Fate brought us together
The cunning, devious, the downright manipulative of them all. They tell me to check one box, the “through a friend” doesn’t do justice, so fuck it. Fate it’ll be. The credit to my debit. The Freddy Mac to my Fannie Mae.

Tayto and Brennan: the caucasian Kenan and Kel

2. Bartley Rock - the only man whose name is also an order
Fate brought us together, Lived together, Sports Team, Childhood friends
Squash. We played squash. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

3. Raymond - the Law
Through Bebo, Fate, Through a Friend
“Can we say we met through bebo? No, truly we met when you tried to beat me up at a pro-life rally with, typically, a hurley.”

4. Denis (The-Best-Friend-Of-The-Brother and now a Brennan basically!)
Family
We must be related we’re both incedibly good looking while the OTHER (supposedly) brother is….. well I don’t want to say it he might be listening…

5. Lynam (the Lámh… *shudder* ;))
We hooked up
Ah no. But not for want of trying Congress ‘06.

6. Shane (the Politicio)
Fate brought us together, School or College
The winds of fate gushed through the meadow, and there they blew the Mighty Brennan and the Fearless Holden across the forests and glens to meet at the Crossroads of Time….the rest, was history.

…

This could be a good meme, how do your friends know you?

A tetchy subject of late. Needless to say that with the date of death fast approaching, that of Ciara-v.-the Constitution ever looming over me, like a big looming Constitution-shaped loomer, stress is FE1 like, and yet motivation is on a sabbatical. (I’ve tried to find a better adjective, but nothing can really surpass ‘FE1 like’ in representing the pain in the depths of your soul, man… like these pointless exams evoke and poke.) I say pointless, because the profession may be noble, but entry to same is anything but. It really is stupidity examinable, with the curriculum not in anyway reflective of that which we will actually practice once in this noble profession.

Another bugger about them is that they tend to adore examining issues that, on the whole, are tabled for review anyways and a reform Bill is literally on Mary’s lap waiting to be signed as the Bic Ink on your exam paper is still wet? Thus, why examine Fee Tails in Land Law when new legislation abolishing same (in the shape of the Land and Conveyancing Bill) is about to be enacted? And why burn my eyes with questions on Defamation/Privacy rights when (to be fair, needs to be said) McDowell has that Privacy Bill written since the PDs were more than two people, and any reform they need/require is there? My suggestions for reform of Privacy Law in this country… errrr… elect McDowell?

Anyways. Back to the substantive. Why should I need to study something that will be null and void by the time I’m actually practicing? I’ll rephrase… why only examine soon-to-be-dodo legislation? The noble mind boggles.

But sure, what do ye need me for anyways? Reilly has been more than adequate in providing for all your niche Cube and Lego needs as I’ve been the one preparing to earn the crust (oh, burn). How he got that gig I’ll never know, but fair play to him - on reflection, I should have applied for the role of Internet Hack in this relationship, but there you go. I saw his potential in cubing, Wordpressing and Lego long before the rest of ye. I’m a veritable Cowell for geeks. Now I will love him and pimp him out to the internet in equal proportion so you can all enjoy him…

Above misery is just fuelling my inner Linton, and I can’t recall a time in the past 2 months where I didn’t have some ailment or other.

Kept going by the ever wonderful roomies who have been encouraging me to pack it all in and thrust Lidl management ads in my face (’you get a company car and all!’) and/or fudge off to the Dragon’s Den - only Deborah will appreciate all that this entrepreneurial mind has to offer. Tempted much. Not to mention the GAAfia, who secretly harbour ambitions for me in ‘de tachin’.

“The Kerry Wedding”, as it’s being cited, is on Friday, and Reilly and I will be flying down to Farranfore in the best tin can that Ryanair can offer us. Upon arrival we shall be greeted by the parentals on the runway, and I’ll dash off to Petermarks for ‘the upstyle’, as ‘the tan’ will already be slapped on (sprayed actually) by “the Hot Brazilian in Blow” (as Reilly affectionately calls her). While all this is happening, meanwhile, my father and other half will swapping tic-tacs on how best to avoid being left alone with Mad Aunty Mary all day. I will come back, looking like Shirley Temple, Dad will laugh and call me a “nerd!” (he still doesn’t know what the word means), and Reilly will affectionately say, “I’m sure it’ll settle down in an hour or so”. I will then cry and ponder the au natural look.

There is added pressure for this Union, because this cousin (the bride) actually made it to the heat final to be the Kerry Rose at some stage in the 1990’s. Celeb or what? She is also rather beautiful and perfectly lovely, and so it would be wrong of me not to do myt best to gladrag it up.

As we all know, the Kerry and Cork match is on Sunday, which can only mean one thing: bad Best Man jokes about the “BIG MATCH UP!” (the groom is from Cork). At this, we shall all laugh a little, but mostly cry a lot. Then there will be “by gor, you’re no O’Connor” while I stiffle out a Pat Shortt-esque “that’s riote…”, and Reilly will sit there silverware less, but celebrating the fact that he recently held a real cup.

Then people will get drunk, the tan will run and the hair fall. It’s really a most predictable and yet precious affair. Mad Aunt Mary will make a pass at the Best Man and we’ll all laugh a little, but mostly cry a lot.

I’ll report anon.

Meanwhile I’ve shopped online and the clothes fitted me! Amen! ASOS, the roomie tells me, is a good one to go with and I send good reports. Go forth and PayPal.

Right, best dash and… err… destroy my soul some more with a little locus standi principles.

Before I go, just a line from my tolerance:

Dear Potential,

F*ck-the-f*ck off.

You’ve reared your ugly head and now Ciara has to deal with you. SHE JUST WANT TO BE USELESS FOR A WHILE. So if you could just, you know, go away, that’d be swell.

Yours in apathy,

Ciara’s Tolerance

Smooch! x

Via Declan - a pretty amazing Flickr set of the Olympic venues made of Lego.

Stunning stuff.

My 6×6x6 V-Cube (”not quite Rubik’s”) arrived this morning - only ordered it last week, and it came from Athens to Dublin in 18 hours but I wasn’t in when they tried to deliver on Friday so I had to wait another three days afterward.

Still, it’s here now, and I’m ruined for the week ahead…

Huge thank-you-so-so-sooooo-much to Ciara for buying it for me though! <3

Not so long ago, Alexia wrote a post about the places she’d most like to go to on holiday, and one of the places she listed was Electric Town in Japan. It didn’t take long to get me thinking that the fact I’ve been to Japan - and indeed to Electric Town - must be something worth blogging about. It being the Olympic time of year, too, it seems appropriate that I share some memories of a different type of Olympics.

Now, I’m not a physically big guy. I don’t have a huge amount of strength, or physical stamina, and aside from once having spun a yo-yo 5,500 times in succession on a bored Sunday, I do not have much physical skill to speak of.

But, believe it or not, I’ve been an Olympian in my time; not trading on the strength of my body or the agility of my muscles, but of calculating radians and solving for x.

I am an Olympian of a different kind, and this is my story.

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