Shut Up Already

Ireland: Day 3 True confessions:

Ireland: Day 3

True confessions: I'm typing all these posts at the same time and trying to make it look like I did one each day. I have an over-inflated sense of the importance of my own blog.

Today is Clifden day. Clifden is the capitol of Connemara, the wild and rocky area on Ireland's far western shore. It's my favorite part of the country, and I think Clifden is my favorite town. It's sandwiched between the mountains and the beach, with stunning views every which way. It's a touristy little place, but on weekend nights young people come out of the woodwork and the craic is mighty. (Craic is a word I'm allowed to use sparingly while in Ireland. It means fun of the chatting and drinking variety.)

Clifden has the perfect amount of pubs: not so many that you can't decide where to go, but not so few that you get bored if it's quiet. We ended up staying at our first stop, E.J. Kings, where the rugby team from Connemara and the rugby team from Belfast were having a post-game session. An old drunk man told me I was a mighty woman altogether, and they played Irish songs we knew and everybody sang. When the pubs closed, we went to the town's one disco, along with everyone else in town. We are not the dancing sort, but we busted a serious groove and sweated out the gallons of beer we'd drunk in the pub scrum. We gladly paid 10 Euro each for the pleasure of doing it, too. The early closing time for pubs here always leaves us scrambling to keep the night going.

We stopped at the chipper on the way home, just like all of the Irish kids do, and slept like the dead until breakfast. Gotta rest up for the big finale in Galway.

Ireland: Day 2 Hello from

Ireland: Day 2

Hello from Doolin, Co. Clare. We took the car ferry across the Shannon this morning from Co. Kerry and drove up the coast and around the Burren and into Doolin. My sister and I have been here before, but our traveling companions, Emily and Mike, haven't. It's a great little town with three pubs and nine million bed and breakfasts, all of which were suspiciously full so we have to share a room. That makes me sad, but I'm trying to project an image of myself as a hearty, mellow, hostel-y sort instead of the needy, easily tired 'this place better have hot water and plenty of it' sort that I am. I don't need much, truly, but I do need a little space to think my own Cara thoughts and do my own Cara thing every day or I start to get a little, um, bitchy. I think it's from being single for too long. At least I haven't started collecting cats yet.

But Doolin is great fun anyway. We went to McGann's pub and heard some music. Had great baked salmon too. It's a beautiful little village, though you can see how many things have been built to cater to tourists even since I was here three years ago. Being a tourist, I can't complain, but when I find an Irishman to marry and move here I plan to bitch about it plenty. Down with faux-authentic cafes! Up with peat!

Ireland: Day 1 Greetings from

Ireland: Day 1

Greetings from Listowel, Co. Kerry! The next time you hear about me, it may well be because I have a number one record, as I just gave the karaoke performance of a lifetime at The Maid of Erin. This could be my last holiday when I'm not being stalked by the paparazzi.

Before my karaoke triumph, we went to drinks and dinner. In that time, 3 separate people asked us how we liked Bush. Interesting, as the other three members of my travelling party had no idea who the prime minister of Ireland is. It's a good reality check for Americans to travel abroad.

The bartender at the karaoke place went on and on about how much he loved Bill Clinton, telling us about the statue of him just down the road at Ballybunion. He said it's a great statue, but it looks more like Kennedy than Clinton. Then we all talked about Kennedy v. Clinton for awhile, and how a monkey could do a better job than Bush. The bartender said he didn't like the man, but also didn't care too much as long as he doesn't invade Ireland. I said they were probably safe as long as no oil was discovered.

Then he said that in this part of Ireland it's common to answer rhetorically by saying 'Is Rose Kennedy's dress black?' As in, in reply to the question 'Raining again, is it?' by saying 'Is Rose Kennedy's dress black?' I know that there's a connection between the Irish and the Kennedys, but I'd never heard anyone directly speak of it.

********************************************

I pride myself on being an articulate girl, and also on picking up quickly on local custom and idiom. So it was especially hard for me to deal with the following exchange at a shop here in Listowel:

Me: Do you sell Band-Aids here?
Shopkeeper: Blank stare.
M: Do you sell Band-Aids here?
SK: I'm sorry?
M: Plasters maybe? Do you have plasters or Band-Aids here?
SK: I'm sorry?
M: Oh, I see them behind the counter right here...Band Aids (pointing)...
SK: Cigarettes?
M: No, Band-Aids, to cover a blister. Band-Aids.
SK: (shakes head helplessly)
Man behind me in line: She's after Band-Aids.
SK: Oh! Band-Aids! Here you go.
M: Thanks (to helpful man in line)
Man in line: (leans in conspiratorially) It's your accent.

I rendered that whole exchange phonetically too. I swear there's no difference between the Irish was of saying Band-Aid and mine. I would have thought they were having me on if they hadn't been so nice.

Holiday Roundup Bush pardoned the

Holiday Roundup

Bush pardoned the turkey today. Every year, I half expect that he won't. After all, he did preside over the executions of 152 people in Texas and at least two as POTUS. I'm sure he argued against the pardon, but evil mastermind Karl Rove probably convinced him that it was necessary for his re-election bid.

Tomorrow, I'm headed to Ireland for a fabulous vacation. When you miss me, as I know you will, imagine me sitting in a pub drinking Guinness by the fireplace and eating a toasted cheese sandwich. Also picture me talking to a handsome, gainfully employed Irishman. (Every little bit helps.)

This morning, a bag of dog food exploded in my trunk. Nothing says "This vacation will be great" like scooping twenty pounds of dog food up with your bare hands at eight o'clock in the morning. If I'm lucky the stench will have dissipated slightly by the time I get on the plane. I'm still trying to figure out who I can blame for this--the pet store, Iams, my sister?. Someone needs to take the fall, because I've decided that swallowing my anger isn't good for me. I plan to explain this to my travelling companions before we leave so that they'll know what to expect if they annoy me.

And speaking of dog food, isn't my dog just the cutest thing ever?

I'll try to check in from Ireland, as I'm sure there will be lots to report.

Paging Terry McAuliffe I had

Paging Terry McAuliffe

I had a dream last night that my ears were bleeding. Not a good omen for a plane ride.

In unrelated news, I was unhappy to read that Dick Gephardt is polling even with Dean in Iowa. Also that the first primaries are only two months away. Yikes! On behalf of yellow-dog Democrats everywhere, I am concerned.

Terry McAuliffe, if you're reading this (and I know you are), please listen to me: No one even knows who Dick Gephardt is except people who follow politics closely, and the Dems in that group already know that he's a terrible leader. He's done a pretty crappy job of uniting the Democrats against the Boy King, not to mention the inexplicable midterm losses. Now, to echo my friend Kate, I'd vote for a dolphin that was running against George Bush. But don't worry about my vote. Think of me as more of an advisor.

What you need to do is find a candidate that people are really excited about. I know, I know, I keep hearing that there's all kinds of buzz among the young and hip about Dean, but I am the young and hip and I've never actually heard any of this purported buzz itself, only rumors about it.

Now, if Dean is all we have to work with, we will, but we may still have time for another strategy. Isn't there a squeaky-clean, photogenic Democratic governor we can jump on? Preferable not from the Northeast corridor--again, don't worry about us, we'll be there--and also preferably with a small child. He should also be tall, and smart, but not TOO smart, and handsome in a way that isn't sexy (a la Clinton) or pretty (the Average American isn't quite there yet. Maybe next time.)

OK, I know that's a fantasy. If someone like that existed, we'd surely have found him (people, I know I keep using the masculine pronoun here, but this is not the year for us to try a female candidate. Our day will come.) Dealing with what we have, I think it's time for an unconventional approach: declare a Dean/Clark ticket now.

Really, disregarding Gephardt, they're the only chance we have. We may as well combine them early and maximize. Dean is the one with governing experience, and he's smart. Plus he has "buzz", which is a generally meaningless asset but in this case can translate nicely into fundraising ability. Clark, of course, has the foreign policy experience, and people just seem to like him. It's true that they're both a little short, which could hurt us in the eyes of that mythical Average American, but Bush isn't that tall either, and he's a mental midget besides. Surely even the Average American has figured that out (she said hopefully.)

Let's get the bumper stickers printed now (I'll be contacting you with some design suggestions, but I like Dean/Clark 2004: Save the trees by getting rid of the Bushes" and Dean/Clark 2004: Let the doctor cure the nepotism") and start thinking about campaign songs (I'm liking "Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye", played when GWB is mentioned, and "We are the champions" by Queen, because it's catchy. Also, both songs are vaguely reminiscent of sports for me, and I understand that the Average American likes sports.)

I don't have to tell you what's hanging in the balance here, Terry, not least your job and the stability of the western world. Let's do lunch and work out the specifics.

In the mean time, I'll be working on possible stump speech templates. Dean and Clark are going to need me.

(Watch this space for a ringing endorsement of the Democratic candidate as soon as he is declared, no matter who it is. Author reserves the right to retract anything at any time.)

Salon.com News | Bullet fired

Salon.com News | Bullet fired during KKK ceremony hits participant

Umm...guns are dangerous. People shouldn't play with them. And it's very sad whenever anyone is shot. And still...and still...

Clean Plate Club George Bush

Clean Plate Club

George Bush has fish, chips and mushy peas

I so wish that there was a website that logged George's meals each day when he was in the U.S. Maybe we could track some of his more moronic statements and tragic verbal missteps to a dietary problem. Eliminating wheat from his diet could lead to peace in the Middle East! Cutting down on dairy could help us bring about stability and self-government in Iraq! No caffeine after 3 p.m., and a newly clear-eyed commander-in-chief might see that getting all his news from his advisors may not be the best way for the leader of the free world to command all of the available information. Especially considering who his advisors are.

(I love these random links I come up with when I google this stuff.)

There was something in the

There was something in the air that night, that stars were bright, Fernando

Don't hate me because I'm going to see Mamma Mia. Cheese can be the glue that holds one's life together.

You may have noticed that I've installed a counter on my site. I think it was a bad idea. I check it obsessively and try to figure out who's been looking, minus the approximate number of times I've looked...

Oh, wait. Is there some kind of rule against caring about how many people read your blog? I never see anyone else do it. People just type type type away and put their witty little thoughts out there in the ether, devil may care if anyone sees it. Like it's enough to create the blog, man. What people think doesn't matter.

Well, readers, I'm here to tell you I care. That's why I'm so happy to give a shout-out to Robert, the second person ever to send me mail from my blog. Not counting my sister. Odd Robert, welcome to the very exclusive club that is my fan base.

Click A friend just sent

Click

A friend just sent me this link

http://bushflash.com/ma.html

It has sound, if you're at work. It's very compelling.

Rare Good News About A

Rare Good News About A Democrat
Go Max Cleland!

At first I was going to take all of the Democrats who voted to authorize the war in Iraq off of my Chrismas card list, but my Christmas card list became dangerously small so I've had to relent. At least Max is talking the talk now.

Every day that goes by without Democrats in power denouncing Bush, every time I see that footage of Tom Daschle decrying the gay marriage ruling in Mass, I get a little more depressed. My political depression has been steadily worsening since Bush "won". Terry McAuliffe needs to call me so we can discuss how to turn this thing around before the Boy King scampers back for a second term. I'd need electro-shock therapy.