The Valentine’s Day Rhyme Massacre

photo (2)

(I)

Roses are red

My tampon is too

Guess I got my period

So no sex for you.

(II)

Roses are red

Do violets come next?

I’m not really romantic

So I’ll just send you a sext.

(III)

Roses are corny
Violets are naff
So c’mere and I’ll ride you
All over the gaff.

(IV)

Roses are red

So are my nethers

We’ve caught something nasty

Let’s get checked together!

(v)

Roses are liquid

Time is made of jelly

I love Surrealism

Microwave.

(VI)

Roses are red

You turned me own flat

But I stole some of your hair

So I’ll just clone you from that.

Trigger Warning: My Opinion on Why We Still Need Feminism In The West

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Look, I’m a humour-based writer by trade and by choice (At least I hope people find humour in most of it) but there are some things that never fail to make my soul burn with rage, like people who think feminism is not really needed in the West as much any more. OH PLEASE. All you need to do is follow the likes of @EverydaySexism to see we still have a long way to go.

But here’s a bit of a story from me. I’ve many more, but this one sticks in my mind above all else.

In addition to writing, I’m also a singer/songwriter who’s travelled around Europe and gigged a lot. When I’m not threatened with rape because I reject some gobshite’s advances IN THE MIDDLE OF ME SINGING A SONG (i.e doing my fucking job) in a Greek bar while the bar manager looks over and shrugs his shoulders and leaves me to defend myself (I’m 4ft 9), THEN maybe I’ll start to believe more in the changing global attitudes towards women.

This was in Europe guys, and not a million years ago either (Summer of ’99). I was lucky enough to be playing with a friend (also female) to a lovely mannerly bunch of Marines, who stepped up when I started screaming like a premenstrual banshee at the man who threatened and intimidated me, and threw that fuckmuppet out of the pub.

I just wanted to sing and entertain with my friend who was my music partner and my best friend, and we always felt safer gigging together. All I got in return from a punter was a lot of inappropriate touching. For a finish, after repeatedly telling him to either stop or ‘fuck the fuck off’ (I AM from Limerick after all), I then received a whispered genuine threat of sexual assault in my ear as I was singing a song.

The bar manager’s response? Get him more drink, it’ll calm him down. (In an unusual move, it didn’t.) A bunch of Marines who didn’t like would-be rapists brought him outside, along with a few well-placed kicks, which eventually calmed him down and did the job instead. God bless the Marines.

Nowadays, I gig in Ireland all the time, where it’s safer and the majority of men are gents. I play alone and have never felt safer. There’s a community of musicians that mind each other like family, and the bars are some of the safest and most fun places to be. I love gigging in Limerick. But if anyone goes on about feminism in a sneery way; like we don’t need some sort of consciousness to be raised in this side of the world, it just makes me sad. They’ve no fucking idea.

You don’t need live in the Middle East or Darkest Africa to experience fear just because of your gender. As long as there is some sort of mistreatment of somebody simply based on the fact that they’re a woman, I’m going to call myself a feminist, because that stuff is something I’m not okay with.

I’m also very lucky to know a lot of men around me who consider themselves feminists too. You’re all fantastic men, and I wish more would join your ranks and stop subscribing the old adage that being a feminist means hating men. How is that helpful in the move towards wanting respect for all human beings regardless of ANY difference between us??

Let’s take back the word Feminism and equate it with the words Equality and Love, and there you have it. A movement every decent human being can get behind.

That’s my two cents anyway.

Thanks for reading, everybody.

#yestoallwomen #YesToEquality #YesToUnity #YesToLove #MenAreFeministsTooYouKnow #MarinesRule

Pregnant Women Painting in Dungarees

Ladies! Up the duff? Bun in the oven? About to pop a sprog?? Then here’s what you should be doing to pass the time during those boring last couple of weeks when you’re in the fullness of health and not feeling in any way like there’s a football team jumping on your bladder or kicking you in the small of your back. Get up off that couch and start painting. Pick a room of your choice, the internet isn’t too fussy about that. But just make with the brush and emulsions and get cracking.

Don’t get anyone in to help, because that’s not the done thing. That makes you a failure. Most importantly, you will not gain maximum Internet points unless you do this thing in dungarees. ALL OF THE 90’S DENIM AROUND YOUR BELLY. It’s not essential, but it is preferred. And always wear a smile. Or you will fail. Fact.

Look, I don’t make the rules. I’m just showing you how it is. It’s now why I throw water on my face while smiling like Denver The Guilty Dog; or eat salads alone while laughing maniacally to myself. And I’m a better woman for it.

 

See below? That’s what happens when you send one of those silly menfolk out to get you pots of paint. How are you supposed to get the whole house done with those little things?? Honestly. No sense. Don’t forget to smile at him endearingly though. Nobody likes a moany non-painting pregnant lady on the internet.

“Dude, do you see any yellow in those charts?? I’M TRYING TO PAINT THE GODDAMN HOUSE HERE. What will the internet think??”

Don’t freak out now, you’re entitled to the odd break. But don’t get too comfy, trying to get away with sitting down and resting your weary heavily pregnant self in between some light house painting. NEVER LET GO OF THE TOOLS. What would the neighbours think if they caught you sitting down like the lazy wagon in this pic below?? For shame.

Now you’re just messing around. You’re on the verge of Pregnant Painting Lady Failure, you know…

Don’t go thinking it’s just stock photos that are showing you the right way to live your happy fulfilled pregnant life. Stock cartoons are getting in on it too. So you know shit’s gettin’ real. So start stocking up on the Dulux.

Baby Brain got you confused about how many paint brushes to use at the one time? Go with one first, more advanced Pregnant Painting Ladies are ambidextrous. See below…

For the love of God, don’t even think of getting your Baby-Daddy to help. He’ll just make a tit of himself by drawing stupid pictures on your belly, or do pretend graffiti like these muppets. But if he does, you better SMILE AND SHOW THE WORLD YOUR HAPPY FULFILLED LIFE….

…and when you’re done, ladies – don’t forget to clean up after yourselves. Nobody likes a lazy Painting Pregnant Lady. Now you have the knowledge. Go forth and ignore the fumes and the physical exertion, for you are doing the Internet’s bidding once more. DON’T FORGET TO SMILE WITH YOUR HAPPY FULFILLED LIVES…