Well, Halloween visited us with all it's fury, bringing an unwelcome visitor along for good measure.
The Prick.
Thats 6 months now and a real milestone. 70% are normally successful in this time, I can't help it but a bad feeling is starting to creep in.
We both need a break from all this so I'm going away for a few days. Ireland.
Fresh air and some old familiar faces might help with a bit of perspective.
We'll see.
Wednesday, 31 October 2007
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Yelling
Or do I mean shouting?
Not sure, and couldn't care less anyway.
In a quest to fool my brain into not thinking about the next 48 hours, I'm giving a wee shout out to some new(to me) blogs that I've started reading regularly.
First up is house dad chronicals, spelling mistake et al, amusing, & well written. And the guy
must have some serious taste because I've seen him knocking about here at times.....
Secondly we have Hilary over at the trying game, a seriously personal account of what she's going through, that puts me to dirty rotten whinging shame.
And thirdly, not for the feint hearted, an opinionated wench writing about pretty much whatever bites her on the hole over at fatmammycat. Not for the ..er... sensitive among us. Seriously, if you're easily offended then, have a yoghurt or something instead, don't say you've not been warned.
So have a looksee folks, go be informed, heartened and disgusted, I'll leave you lot suss out which is which....
47 hours, 56 mins, 34 seconds....
...47 hours, 56 mins, 30 seconds....
......47 hours, 56 mins, 26 seconds....
Not sure, and couldn't care less anyway.
In a quest to fool my brain into not thinking about the next 48 hours, I'm giving a wee shout out to some new(to me) blogs that I've started reading regularly.
First up is house dad chronicals, spelling mistake et al, amusing, & well written. And the guy
must have some serious taste because I've seen him knocking about here at times.....Secondly we have Hilary over at the trying game, a seriously personal account of what she's going through, that puts me to dirty rotten whinging shame.
And thirdly, not for the feint hearted, an opinionated wench writing about pretty much whatever bites her on the hole over at fatmammycat. Not for the ..er... sensitive among us. Seriously, if you're easily offended then, have a yoghurt or something instead, don't say you've not been warned.
So have a looksee folks, go be informed, heartened and disgusted, I'll leave you lot suss out which is which....
47 hours, 56 mins, 34 seconds....
...47 hours, 56 mins, 30 seconds....
......47 hours, 56 mins, 26 seconds....
Friday, 26 October 2007
In The Zone
Much to my surprise I woke up today and discovered that it was Friday. How'd that happen then?
It's Amazing what keeping busy can do for you.
Anyway, we find ourselves back in the 'end zone' of the month, 5/6 days or so away from a bag of emotions like a stiletto up the backside or, well, I dunno what the opposite would be like, but I presume it'll be good....It better f$%*ing be !
Also good and surprising to note is that the insane panic and anxiety hasn't quite kicked in yet, and long may it remain at bay ! (cue mental breakdown over the weekend)
I've impressed myself to see that I'm down 7 kilos in as many weeks, which means that this baby making diet, exercise and 'how's your father' sessions are having some benefits. Of course there is the downside, I haven't got the stength to make a bloody fist most of the time I'm so shattered. But heh, I won't complain, cuz I'm a gettin' plenty !
So, the fact my human coil is racing towards emaciation from attempting to make a new one(cup of irony anyone?), what else is new? - Nothing, absolutely squat, and that's the way I like it.
It's Amazing what keeping busy can do for you.
Anyway, we find ourselves back in the 'end zone' of the month, 5/6 days or so away from a bag of emotions like a stiletto up the backside or, well, I dunno what the opposite would be like, but I presume it'll be good....It better f$%*ing be !
Also good and surprising to note is that the insane panic and anxiety hasn't quite kicked in yet, and long may it remain at bay ! (cue mental breakdown over the weekend)
I've impressed myself to see that I'm down 7 kilos in as many weeks, which means that this baby making diet, exercise and 'how's your father' sessions are having some benefits. Of course there is the downside, I haven't got the stength to make a bloody fist most of the time I'm so shattered. But heh, I won't complain, cuz I'm a gettin' plenty !So, the fact my human coil is racing towards emaciation from attempting to make a new one(cup of irony anyone?), what else is new? - Nothing, absolutely squat, and that's the way I like it.
Monday, 22 October 2007
Continental Colonic Irrigation
I'm past it.
Sad, but true, and frankly, I couldn't give a fiddlers fart.
I've just endured a weekend in the company of 8 other guys all of whom are older than me.
As I stood in the 4km long check in line I scanned my range of companions for the weekend...
The crew included a semi-crippled groom to be, 2 new dads who both saw the weekend as a chance to catch up on some sleep, a guy on the verge of marital breakdown, an 8 foot tall Dutchman, and 1/3 of the microbiology section of a very very very well known alcoholic beverage brewing company.
....I prayed for an easy way out, I considered lunging for the nearest security guard's semi-automatic, but instead I decided suffering in silence was the way to go, the fallout of an Irish Christian brother's education I expect.
In truth, the 48 hours that follwed were neither as dull and tedious as I expected, nor as wet
and wild as others did. I did manage to consume 17 pints of (admittedly shockingly bad) beer on Saturday and live to tell the tale. A somewhat prostrate sleeping position and a sense of bewilderment for 2 days did follow though.
What came closer to being my downfall was the eyeball chewing boredom that was a 0-0 draw at the game which I paid £22 (Eur 33, $45) to watch.
On the upside I did get to see England lose the rugby world cup final and have the chance to be irritatingly smug about it.
In need of somewhere warm to sit and have some hot chocolate on Sunday we ventured into 'Hooters', which believe me is a poor relation to it's American cousin establishment. The outfits look like hand-me-downs, and don't do the saggy bottoms or weightliftern thighs on the staff any favours.
On the plus side of 'Hooters' there was a wee kid sound asleep on a bench in there as his folks drank him into an early orphanage, cute all the same. Reminded me of BusyDad here, minus the intelligent girls and responsible parenting.
But the definite highlight of the entire weekend was Sunday morning at our hotel, where at reception stood a make-up worn woman wearing nothing but a man's shirt and stilettos.
She had little or no recollection of how she'd gotten there or why (er..take a guess sweetheart, the clue is in the outfit), and was pleading with recption to get her home, to whereever that may have been.
At least she must have had a good night.
I still maintain, much to the disgust of my English friends and colleagues, that in summation, if Europe were to get colonic irrigation, England is where they would shove the hose.
So all in all, I survived, I drank and swore far too much, but I was marvelously behaved right up until I landed in the arms of my loving, albeit somewhat suspicious, wife.
She was a bit miffed though, apparantly I'm missing a shirt......
Sad, but true, and frankly, I couldn't give a fiddlers fart.
I've just endured a weekend in the company of 8 other guys all of whom are older than me.
As I stood in the 4km long check in line I scanned my range of companions for the weekend...
The crew included a semi-crippled groom to be, 2 new dads who both saw the weekend as a chance to catch up on some sleep, a guy on the verge of marital breakdown, an 8 foot tall Dutchman, and 1/3 of the microbiology section of a very very very well known alcoholic beverage brewing company.
....I prayed for an easy way out, I considered lunging for the nearest security guard's semi-automatic, but instead I decided suffering in silence was the way to go, the fallout of an Irish Christian brother's education I expect.
In truth, the 48 hours that follwed were neither as dull and tedious as I expected, nor as wet
and wild as others did. I did manage to consume 17 pints of (admittedly shockingly bad) beer on Saturday and live to tell the tale. A somewhat prostrate sleeping position and a sense of bewilderment for 2 days did follow though.What came closer to being my downfall was the eyeball chewing boredom that was a 0-0 draw at the game which I paid £22 (Eur 33, $45) to watch.
On the upside I did get to see England lose the rugby world cup final and have the chance to be irritatingly smug about it.
In need of somewhere warm to sit and have some hot chocolate on Sunday we ventured into 'Hooters', which believe me is a poor relation to it's American cousin establishment. The outfits look like hand-me-downs, and don't do the saggy bottoms or weightliftern thighs on the staff any favours.
On the plus side of 'Hooters' there was a wee kid sound asleep on a bench in there as his folks drank him into an early orphanage, cute all the same. Reminded me of BusyDad here, minus the intelligent girls and responsible parenting.But the definite highlight of the entire weekend was Sunday morning at our hotel, where at reception stood a make-up worn woman wearing nothing but a man's shirt and stilettos.
She had little or no recollection of how she'd gotten there or why (er..take a guess sweetheart, the clue is in the outfit), and was pleading with recption to get her home, to whereever that may have been.
At least she must have had a good night.
I still maintain, much to the disgust of my English friends and colleagues, that in summation, if Europe were to get colonic irrigation, England is where they would shove the hose.
So all in all, I survived, I drank and swore far too much, but I was marvelously behaved right up until I landed in the arms of my loving, albeit somewhat suspicious, wife.
She was a bit miffed though, apparantly I'm missing a shirt......
The Ghost Of Billy Crystal
Have you ever woken up with your tongue welded to the roof of your mouth, your guts rumbling like you've had someone attempt to extract information you don't posess by pumping concentrated grapefruit juice into you, and your head rattling constantly like when you can't get the last tic tac out of the box?
No? - Well you've never been on a weekend long stag party in England then. But more on that later.
I awoke (or regained consciousness, same difference I expect) this morning (and I use the term 'morning' somewhat liberally) to find that dorky dad has awarded me, with something.
I don't understand what it is, I don't understand what I should do, but I do know that I've been so overcome by emotion at this selfless act of generosity that I sobbed myself back to sleep.
So I would like to thank my over-sexed and under-educated-in-family -planning parents for being drunk enough, often enough to have me and bring me to this moment. But mostly I must thank Dorky Dad, who is witty, funny, handsome, and has the balls to let his wife contribute to his blog. Go read, now. Well, not now exactly, but when I'm finished.
I promise to figure out what it all means just as soon as I have enough functioning brain cells to spare, they are currently all being utilised to keep my feeble carcas functioning. I do know that it means I made him smile, and I hope not in a 'I really need to get to a bathroom soon' or 'if you don't shut up quite soon I'm going to bite one of your fat little fingers' kind of way.
Have a look, ain't it Purdy ?
If I haven't slept-driven myself into a canal on the way home I may just share the gory details of the weekend that's passed...
NOW, you can go read Dorky Dad.
No? - Well you've never been on a weekend long stag party in England then. But more on that later.
I awoke (or regained consciousness, same difference I expect) this morning (and I use the term 'morning' somewhat liberally) to find that dorky dad has awarded me, with something.
I don't understand what it is, I don't understand what I should do, but I do know that I've been so overcome by emotion at this selfless act of generosity that I sobbed myself back to sleep.So I would like to thank my over-sexed and under-educated-in-family -planning parents for being drunk enough, often enough to have me and bring me to this moment. But mostly I must thank Dorky Dad, who is witty, funny, handsome, and has the balls to let his wife contribute to his blog. Go read, now. Well, not now exactly, but when I'm finished.
I promise to figure out what it all means just as soon as I have enough functioning brain cells to spare, they are currently all being utilised to keep my feeble carcas functioning. I do know that it means I made him smile, and I hope not in a 'I really need to get to a bathroom soon' or 'if you don't shut up quite soon I'm going to bite one of your fat little fingers' kind of way.
Have a look, ain't it Purdy ?
If I haven't slept-driven myself into a canal on the way home I may just share the gory details of the weekend that's passed...
NOW, you can go read Dorky Dad.
Thursday, 18 October 2007
Parties and Powerhoses
As the non-colourblind and those with above comatose level observation skills among us will have noticed, I've had a play around with the blog, added a banner and powerhosed the rest.
I'm feeling a great sense achievement that I've done it, but of course like any good mentally unstable blogger should, I feel empty and desperate for feeling that sense of achivement.
Well smack my ass and call me Nancy, I just don't care.
Anyway, what's new... well a couple of things are....
One, I've been tapped up! 'what are you on about now you genetic freak of an Irishman? ' I hear
you ask... well, thanks to some serious efforts on a project between July '06 and '07, I've been courted by another consultancy for some time now. After 4 informal approaches I've decided to speak to them and we are trying to fix a date even as my fat little fingers type this.
Well smack your asses and call you all Nancy, I know you don't care. Good, I'd seriously begin to worry if you actually did, but anyway, I diverse... Long story short, for the first time in my 10 year career I may get the oppertunity to take a job having not been made redundant, forcibly relocated, worked to the bone, or felt up by the boss in my previous position.
Two, as we approach the end of this week of fake grunting noises, too many showers and
underwear changes, I'm getting a break! I'm departing this flattest of flat lands to visit the home of chavs, weak beer, asbos, and bad dental work (England, btw) for a 'bachelor party' with hordes of like-minded man-men.
So from Friday evening onwards, I get to sink many cold (luke warm at best) ones, watch top (league one, the old 3rd division) class football (saaaaawker), and sink some more 'cold' ones for two nights.
Sunday I shall return to provide my wife with the wonderous gift of usless alcohol damaged sperm.
Aruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugah!.... or chug!, chug!, chug! as my American party fiend buddies say.
I'm feeling a great sense achievement that I've done it, but of course like any good mentally unstable blogger should, I feel empty and desperate for feeling that sense of achivement.
Well smack my ass and call me Nancy, I just don't care.
Anyway, what's new... well a couple of things are....
One, I've been tapped up! 'what are you on about now you genetic freak of an Irishman? ' I hear
you ask... well, thanks to some serious efforts on a project between July '06 and '07, I've been courted by another consultancy for some time now. After 4 informal approaches I've decided to speak to them and we are trying to fix a date even as my fat little fingers type this.Well smack your asses and call you all Nancy, I know you don't care. Good, I'd seriously begin to worry if you actually did, but anyway, I diverse... Long story short, for the first time in my 10 year career I may get the oppertunity to take a job having not been made redundant, forcibly relocated, worked to the bone, or felt up by the boss in my previous position.
Two, as we approach the end of this week of fake grunting noises, too many showers and
underwear changes, I'm getting a break! I'm departing this flattest of flat lands to visit the home of chavs, weak beer, asbos, and bad dental work (England, btw) for a 'bachelor party' with hordes of like-minded man-men.So from Friday evening onwards, I get to sink many cold (luke warm at best) ones, watch top (league one, the old 3rd division) class football (saaaaawker), and sink some more 'cold' ones for two nights.
Sunday I shall return to provide my wife with the wonderous gift of usless alcohol damaged sperm.
Aruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugah!.... or chug!, chug!, chug! as my American party fiend buddies say.
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
Slap Bang & Stock Photos
Well you bunch of pervs, we are slap bang in the middle of the big week of, well, slap & bang.
My house now stinks of massage oil, I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life from the spilled wax of a scented candle and I can't get Enya out of my head but at least we are still going strong in this quest to conceive. (I've added a mini quest of breaking our 4 month old bed for my own entertainment, not doing so well on that score, but the upside is I may very soon get to replace my office desk)
It's good to see that the BBC have gone and thrown a spanner in the works of couples everywhere who are trying to conceive by announcing that they should not be having sex every
second day like millions of sources claim, but rather every single day. So basically the point they're trying to get across is that absolutely no one has a clue either way.
And a tip for BBC, get some new stock photos. I found 9 articles on the BBC site today related to male fertility and 8 of them used THIS photo.
In the name of all that's bloody holy people, I personally produce millions of these things a day, surely you can get another shot of a few.
Maybe one where a bunch of the guys are paddling around drinking cocktails (geddit?) and wearing 'my other fallopian is a porsche' t-shirts...
I feel dizzy....
My house now stinks of massage oil, I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life from the spilled wax of a scented candle and I can't get Enya out of my head but at least we are still going strong in this quest to conceive. (I've added a mini quest of breaking our 4 month old bed for my own entertainment, not doing so well on that score, but the upside is I may very soon get to replace my office desk)
It's good to see that the BBC have gone and thrown a spanner in the works of couples everywhere who are trying to conceive by announcing that they should not be having sex every
second day like millions of sources claim, but rather every single day. So basically the point they're trying to get across is that absolutely no one has a clue either way.And a tip for BBC, get some new stock photos. I found 9 articles on the BBC site today related to male fertility and 8 of them used THIS photo.
In the name of all that's bloody holy people, I personally produce millions of these things a day, surely you can get another shot of a few.
Maybe one where a bunch of the guys are paddling around drinking cocktails (geddit?) and wearing 'my other fallopian is a porsche' t-shirts...
I feel dizzy....
Saturday, 13 October 2007
F5
Time for a refresh, added and removed some blog links, changed some wording as it ain't all about dads anymore, and considering the fact I ain't one anyway (Damn you mother nature, why oh why ? ! ?). Reality Check.
Then, just to prove to you how dull this blog is when I can't moan about being seedless, this is what I'm a'gonna do this grey Saturday morning in North Western Europe...
-Get a coffee - damn, can't - caffeine
-Get an overpriced haircut at the chatty English speaking barber's
-Go to the gym and sweat myself stooopider than I already am. No sauna, the best part by the way, 'cause that's out too.
-Come home and scratch. No self touching though, as that's also banned.
To add to my disillusionment this week I made contact with the local pool, 4 minute walk, about swimming lessons for adults. The 9 year old Olympic champion swimmer receptionist scoffed at me and informed me that they stopped giving them years ago... due to lack of need.
I may just add -Cause pain to a cloggy (Dutch person) to my list, probably after scratching.
EDIT: Continuing the scratching theme, Scratch what I said about a grey day, it is a stunningly beautiful 'late Summer's' day.
Then, just to prove to you how dull this blog is when I can't moan about being seedless, this is what I'm a'gonna do this grey Saturday morning in North Western Europe...
-Get a coffee - damn, can't - caffeine
-Get an overpriced haircut at the chatty English speaking barber's
-Go to the gym and sweat myself stooopider than I already am. No sauna, the best part by the way, 'cause that's out too.
-Come home and scratch. No self touching though, as that's also banned.
To add to my disillusionment this week I made contact with the local pool, 4 minute walk, about swimming lessons for adults. The 9 year old Olympic champion swimmer receptionist scoffed at me and informed me that they stopped giving them years ago... due to lack of need.
I may just add -Cause pain to a cloggy (Dutch person) to my list, probably after scratching.
EDIT: Continuing the scratching theme, Scratch what I said about a grey day, it is a stunningly beautiful 'late Summer's' day.
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
Fancy A Laugh?
It's done the rounds before but it's too funny not have here.
I dare you morbid feckers not to get a belly wobble at the very least from this...
I dare you morbid feckers not to get a belly wobble at the very least from this...
Monday, 8 October 2007
My Wife
We've had a lousy couple of days, another disappointment leading to both of us getting in a right stinker of a mood at one stage or another. But, as has been the case every time up to now, after a few days the bad moods pass and the levels of optimism start to rise again, slower each time, but rise none the less.
It takes something special to cheer us up during this time but my overworked heart has just jumped a beat when I saw my wife do something she used to do a lot but I hadn't seen (or perhaps noticed) in quite a while.
...I caught her smiling at the TV....
Innocuous I know, a bit creepy even perhaps, but it really is a joy to behold when you see someone so special derive a goofy bit of happiness from something so trivial, almost childlike, which is so uplifting to see in these mediocre days full of commitments, deadlines, and schedules.
You'll never read this I expect, but I do love ya, you daft cow.
Thanks for everything.
It takes something special to cheer us up during this time but my overworked heart has just jumped a beat when I saw my wife do something she used to do a lot but I hadn't seen (or perhaps noticed) in quite a while.
...I caught her smiling at the TV....
Innocuous I know, a bit creepy even perhaps, but it really is a joy to behold when you see someone so special derive a goofy bit of happiness from something so trivial, almost childlike, which is so uplifting to see in these mediocre days full of commitments, deadlines, and schedules.
You'll never read this I expect, but I do love ya, you daft cow.
Thanks for everything.
Thursday, 4 October 2007
Wednesday, 3 October 2007
My PMT
Pre 'Maybe' Tension.
I suffer from it, it starts on the Monday every 4 weeks, and lasts until Thursday or Friday when my wife informs me that this ain't the month.
The longer this goes on, the earlier it starts.
Oddly, this is the most anticipated few days AND the most dreaded. A peculiar bubble of silence covers our house for these few days, for the rest of the month we happily chat about our plans, but for these few days we seem to slide back into our individual shells, keeping our thoughts to ourselves, probably in fear of letting our doubts show to one another.
My wife has been a bit grumpy the last few days, maybe it's my version of PMT, maybe it's my PMT rubbing off on her and causing it. Maybe it's real PMT, I hope not. Who knows anymore, I surely don't.
We've done all we could this time around, and done it 'well'.
I'm not particularly religious, but I do think that nature knows best, and I hope whatever force that has determined our current situation feels it's the right time and thinks we are ready.
I certainly do.
I suffer from it, it starts on the Monday every 4 weeks, and lasts until Thursday or Friday when my wife informs me that this ain't the month.
The longer this goes on, the earlier it starts.
Oddly, this is the most anticipated few days AND the most dreaded. A peculiar bubble of silence covers our house for these few days, for the rest of the month we happily chat about our plans, but for these few days we seem to slide back into our individual shells, keeping our thoughts to ourselves, probably in fear of letting our doubts show to one another.
My wife has been a bit grumpy the last few days, maybe it's my version of PMT, maybe it's my PMT rubbing off on her and causing it. Maybe it's real PMT, I hope not. Who knows anymore, I surely don't.
We've done all we could this time around, and done it 'well'.
I'm not particularly religious, but I do think that nature knows best, and I hope whatever force that has determined our current situation feels it's the right time and thinks we are ready.
I certainly do.
P.S. - This really needs some lightening up a bit, eh? I'm gonna get me some knock knock jokes for next time round.
Monday, 1 October 2007
The List: Happy Birthday To Me
Yep, yesterday another year passed, I am no longer a twenty-something, but a thirty-nothing.
I'm quite glad that it's finally come and gone, I think I fit myself better at 30 than 29.
That cheeky minx of a wife of mine has presented me with a hot air balloon ride which I'm looking forward to doing as soon as we get a chance.
The List, everyone has one, 'things I want to do by the time I'm 30', mine ain't looking in great shape....
Learn to actually play the guitar that I've now owned for years.
0 for 1
What can I say, I have no talent.
Parachute jump
0 for 2
Not entirely my fault this one, I started my current job around the time this was first planned and it was decided breaking my two legs 4 days before starting was not a great idea.
The 2nd planning has been postponed as a friend who wants to join me in this is getting married, and the crutches would clash with the bridesmaid dresses.
So this is still on sometime in the spring.
Hot Air Balloon Ride
1 for 3
I'm going to give myself this one, as I was in possesion of the ticket on September 30th, my birthday.
Learn to swim
1 for 4
Irony is a wonderful thing. Born and raised on an Island and now living in a country that is in danger of turning into Atlantis everytime it rains, and I can't swim. Idiotic.
But I WILL follow this one up if we get lucky with kids.
Be my own boss
1 for 5
I'm tempted to give myself this one also, not because I am, but because I don't want to be at the moment. There have been plenty of oppertunities in the last year but our priorities have been else where. I'm pretty sure this will resolve itself, but it's a bit further in the planning now.
I'm going to leave the list at this, as it's the most recent and realistic list, the one where I captain Ireland to world cup glory, win wimbledon, win an oscar, and marry Gillian Anderson is probably touching on the side of unlikely, and was most likely influenced by teenage hormones racing through my iron deficient veins.
So I'm giving myself a 20% reality score, and a 60% morality score, not bad, but no so hot either.
What are your 'thing to do before I'm...' and how close are you to realising them?
I'm quite glad that it's finally come and gone, I think I fit myself better at 30 than 29.
Suits you sir !
That cheeky minx of a wife of mine has presented me with a hot air balloon ride which I'm looking forward to doing as soon as we get a chance.
The List, everyone has one, 'things I want to do by the time I'm 30', mine ain't looking in great shape....
Learn to actually play the guitar that I've now owned for years.
0 for 1
What can I say, I have no talent.
0 for 2
Not entirely my fault this one, I started my current job around the time this was first planned and it was decided breaking my two legs 4 days before starting was not a great idea.
The 2nd planning has been postponed as a friend who wants to join me in this is getting married, and the crutches would clash with the bridesmaid dresses.
So this is still on sometime in the spring.
1 for 3
I'm going to give myself this one, as I was in possesion of the ticket on September 30th, my birthday.
1 for 4
Irony is a wonderful thing. Born and raised on an Island and now living in a country that is in danger of turning into Atlantis everytime it rains, and I can't swim. Idiotic.
But I WILL follow this one up if we get lucky with kids.
1 for 5
I'm tempted to give myself this one also, not because I am, but because I don't want to be at the moment. There have been plenty of oppertunities in the last year but our priorities have been else where. I'm pretty sure this will resolve itself, but it's a bit further in the planning now.
I'm going to leave the list at this, as it's the most recent and realistic list, the one where I captain Ireland to world cup glory, win wimbledon, win an oscar, and marry Gillian Anderson is probably touching on the side of unlikely, and was most likely influenced by teenage hormones racing through my iron deficient veins.
So I'm giving myself a 20% reality score, and a 60% morality score, not bad, but no so hot either.
What are your 'thing to do before I'm...' and how close are you to realising them?
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