You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals,
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.
Exactly what The Bloodhound Gang said.
You see it annoys me that sex is considered a bad word to some. Maybe it's because they don't want there children to lose their innocence at such a young age or some feel it's a topic which should be only spoken within the bedroom walls.
But we're living in an age where the taboo factor of sex should be long gone. The time were people never spoke about it was when people who shouldn't be doing it were. Who? The priests of Ireland, the ones that considered it a sin.
You see people forget that it such a natural thing, everyone does it! See the dolphins below their having a fucking threesome for God sake. That one is getting a right dicking.
If it was such a bad thing, why do we feel so great during and after it.
You see even the birds know we're on to a good thing.
That bird is getting a pounding.
So lets get away from our missionary position and enjoy what could become your true calling to go to bed.
Watch sex for sex tips, rather than switch the channel because you feel uncomfortable. Take notes. If mammals, even birds can do it without any cares in the world, why should you shy away from it.
Open the curtains.
Get a dildo.
Have a wank on the bus (let the pensioner see).
Do it again already.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
i'm a boobietarian
Yes you heard me,
basically it means I exclude boobs out of my daily lifestyle.
Even when I was a baby, my mother said I was the only one that never took to breastfeeding. She blames the milk......
....however I think different, even at 6 hours post-delivery I couldn't stomach the concept of a breast in my mouth.
When I starting playing dump, kissing girls, pretending it was like the best thing since slice butter-I knew the thought of go up along the outside of someone's bra would make me die inside.
I've never felt up a girl....no lie!
I ran into to a wall once, when someone came chasing towards me with the notion she was going to smother to death with her boobies.
I can't understand the attraction to them, even with all the things you can do with them (like down below), I can only find ways to dislike them. My dislike has grown to become a great hatred of recent years and below you will get my 11 reasons why:
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#1-The right breast.
#2-The left breast.
#3-The formation of the two, the set basically.
#4-The nipple.
#5-Saggy breasts, nothing scares me more when they hang. And women out there let me tell you another thing, they don't improve with age. They become drooping testicles with eyes pointing out at ya.
#6-Fake breasts, the ones that defy all the laws of gravity. Just let them be, stop adding unwanted attention to the yokes.
#7-The tan line that breasts leave behind. Like if your gonna have them, you might as well let them see the sun. Or is that girls really do know how manky they really are?
#8-When the nipple is a far darker colour than the boob itself or when the nipple devours the whole breast. It's like they caught AIDS or something. And the inverted nipples are rank too.
#9-When one boob is bigger than the other. How unfortunate for such an unfortunate creation that I have to suffer to see everyday of my life.
#10-The sexual image of them makes me cry. Someone once told me how she made someone cum all over her by giving him a titty wank. Picture the pearl necklace folks.......ain't pretty is it?
#11-Finally they produce milk.........vomit!!!
basically it means I exclude boobs out of my daily lifestyle.
Even when I was a baby, my mother said I was the only one that never took to breastfeeding. She blames the milk......
....however I think different, even at 6 hours post-delivery I couldn't stomach the concept of a breast in my mouth.
When I starting playing dump, kissing girls, pretending it was like the best thing since slice butter-I knew the thought of go up along the outside of someone's bra would make me die inside.
I've never felt up a girl....no lie!
I ran into to a wall once, when someone came chasing towards me with the notion she was going to smother to death with her boobies.
I can't understand the attraction to them, even with all the things you can do with them (like down below), I can only find ways to dislike them. My dislike has grown to become a great hatred of recent years and below you will get my 11 reasons why:
.jpg)
#1-The right breast.#2-The left breast.
#3-The formation of the two, the set basically.
#4-The nipple.
#5-Saggy breasts, nothing scares me more when they hang. And women out there let me tell you another thing, they don't improve with age. They become drooping testicles with eyes pointing out at ya.
#6-Fake breasts, the ones that defy all the laws of gravity. Just let them be, stop adding unwanted attention to the yokes.
#7-The tan line that breasts leave behind. Like if your gonna have them, you might as well let them see the sun. Or is that girls really do know how manky they really are?
#8-When the nipple is a far darker colour than the boob itself or when the nipple devours the whole breast. It's like they caught AIDS or something. And the inverted nipples are rank too.
#9-When one boob is bigger than the other. How unfortunate for such an unfortunate creation that I have to suffer to see everyday of my life.
#10-The sexual image of them makes me cry. Someone once told me how she made someone cum all over her by giving him a titty wank. Picture the pearl necklace folks.......ain't pretty is it?
#11-Finally they produce milk.........vomit!!!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
77 anyone?
Lately I've beginning to think, if you want anyone to see Dublin in it's true glory. Pop them on a 77.
Why? I'll explain.
I get on the bus and walk in with a group of everyones. You have the following (highlighted in green);
-The ordinary people-the people that work at banks, shops or where ever they work. Who listen to their i-pod and cause no harm. The ones who just want to get home to their families or friends. The ones that look out the window waiting for the bus stop to arrive.
-The troublesome- they're the ones on the back of the bus upstairs that always make that annoying women talk from the speakers, "Dublin bus would like to remind you, that it is illegal to smoke on all buses........".
-Then you would get the Travellers coming on, probably start a fight within their clan and then drift on into conversation, which is more like mumble to my ears. Something about playing golf and you just know that doesn't contain a 18 hole golf course.
-You usually get the junkie types, swaying side by side off their seats but managing to stay on the seat all the less, they usually get off at Cork street though.
-The emos and rockers-they speak for themselves in appearance more than anything else.
-The school-kids\teenagers-bring the noise to the bus. If it's not their ridiculous talk in show, it's their phones playing music aloud.
-The gays-this would include my fabulous self, a highlight of the journey if i may just add.
-The pram pushers-the ones that block the entrance for the whole journey.
-The pensioners-talking about the old times, bingo on Sunday night or the latest news that hits the airwaves. Looking at every new passenger with a smile.
-The foreigners-most likely Polish or from Africa. Coming to Ireland in hope of a better life, the ones that never are a spot of trouble, well on the buses in anyway.
My point. In such a journey we get to see Dublin. We see all that represents Dublin, well maybe apart from the super rich. But I'll bring my guest to Legs to see that.
You see, people forget that Tallaght has a population of well over 100 thousand. They hear and witness the bad but forget the ordinary, the ones who cause no harm, the ones who take a bus to go home to their precious kids. The ones that look at the minority in disguise, who are ashamed of their neighbours that cause so much unwanted trouble.
I'm no Tallaght romantic, I'm well aware of what takes place. But I'm also a firm believer that if it wasn't for my Tallaght roots, I would have become a narrow-minded fool who could never understand the 'buts' in life. Who just thinks one way but can never stir their thoughts in a different direction.
So please, I beg, all you Hitlers and Stalins out there, don't nuke Tallaght!
Why?
Because I have a 77 to catch tomorrow morning.
Why? I'll explain.
I get on the bus and walk in with a group of everyones. You have the following (highlighted in green);-The ordinary people-the people that work at banks, shops or where ever they work. Who listen to their i-pod and cause no harm. The ones who just want to get home to their families or friends. The ones that look out the window waiting for the bus stop to arrive.
-The troublesome- they're the ones on the back of the bus upstairs that always make that annoying women talk from the speakers, "Dublin bus would like to remind you, that it is illegal to smoke on all buses........".
-Then you would get the Travellers coming on, probably start a fight within their clan and then drift on into conversation, which is more like mumble to my ears. Something about playing golf and you just know that doesn't contain a 18 hole golf course.
-You usually get the junkie types, swaying side by side off their seats but managing to stay on the seat all the less, they usually get off at Cork street though.
-The emos and rockers-they speak for themselves in appearance more than anything else.
-The school-kids\teenagers-bring the noise to the bus. If it's not their ridiculous talk in show, it's their phones playing music aloud.
-The gays-this would include my fabulous self, a highlight of the journey if i may just add.
-The pram pushers-the ones that block the entrance for the whole journey.
-The pensioners-talking about the old times, bingo on Sunday night or the latest news that hits the airwaves. Looking at every new passenger with a smile.
-The foreigners-most likely Polish or from Africa. Coming to Ireland in hope of a better life, the ones that never are a spot of trouble, well on the buses in anyway.
My point. In such a journey we get to see Dublin. We see all that represents Dublin, well maybe apart from the super rich. But I'll bring my guest to Legs to see that.
You see, people forget that Tallaght has a population of well over 100 thousand. They hear and witness the bad but forget the ordinary, the ones who cause no harm, the ones who take a bus to go home to their precious kids. The ones that look at the minority in disguise, who are ashamed of their neighbours that cause so much unwanted trouble.
I'm no Tallaght romantic, I'm well aware of what takes place. But I'm also a firm believer that if it wasn't for my Tallaght roots, I would have become a narrow-minded fool who could never understand the 'buts' in life. Who just thinks one way but can never stir their thoughts in a different direction.
So please, I beg, all you Hitlers and Stalins out there, don't nuke Tallaght!
Why?
Because I have a 77 to catch tomorrow morning.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
the writing's on my ankle
When I went away to Thailand, Etain and myself got drunk one night. To be fair Etain was far drunker than myself but in the end we decided to get a tattoo on our ankle. We wanted something small. At one point I think a freckle was suggested but we soon said let's do some thing that means something to us both. So me, being very fond of my history and gay heritage, I suggest a triangle. It would be a triangle that points towards the ground, like the ones down below. This triangle represented the homosexuals that were killed in the concentration camps in Nazi-Germany.
We ended up getting a black triangle each. Then I thought to myself the pink triangle represents the gay men that were victimized in Nazi-Germany. Our triangles were black. So basically my triangles mean shit to me. They weren't pink, so they have nothing to with my heritage at all, I have a black triangle that means absolutely nothing to me. And if you saw the triangle, you wouldn't even think it was a bloody triangle, looks like a faded heart to me.
Then I thought myself, what does the black triangle actually represent?
Well, at first I discovered it represented the anti-social which included; mentally-disabled, homeless, alcoholics and prostitutes.
But then to my annoyance, I found that lesbians were giving this colour as a representation of their sexuality.
Well I'm not impressed! I'm actually becoming a lesbian. The majority of my close friends are lesbians. I had to stop going to the L word viewings because I felt I was becoming to close to having my penis fall off and then everything would change vagina like. But now I have a symbol on my ankle that says I'm a lesbian too.
What have I done?
I'm gonna have to get this thing changed quick especially before I start liking girls (oh my god, I think I'm going to vomit).
We ended up getting a black triangle each. Then I thought to myself the pink triangle represents the gay men that were victimized in Nazi-Germany. Our triangles were black. So basically my triangles mean shit to me. They weren't pink, so they have nothing to with my heritage at all, I have a black triangle that means absolutely nothing to me. And if you saw the triangle, you wouldn't even think it was a bloody triangle, looks like a faded heart to me.Then I thought myself, what does the black triangle actually represent?
Well, at first I discovered it represented the anti-social which included; mentally-disabled, homeless, alcoholics and prostitutes.
But then to my annoyance, I found that lesbians were giving this colour as a representation of their sexuality.
Well I'm not impressed! I'm actually becoming a lesbian. The majority of my close friends are lesbians. I had to stop going to the L word viewings because I felt I was becoming to close to having my penis fall off and then everything would change vagina like. But now I have a symbol on my ankle that says I'm a lesbian too.
What have I done?
I'm gonna have to get this thing changed quick especially before I start liking girls (oh my god, I think I'm going to vomit).
davih's mind's diary
Wanna see how my mind works?
Well this blog is your lucky blog.
When Davih is broke and not happy with the content that the T.V. televises his mind begins to drift.
First he begins to think about past events, which with him was Friday night. Davih got drunk, danced, had a laugh, met a man and wakes up to the sound of Michelle in his right ear. He can still hear the echo of her giving out, never in the wrong attitude, the I'm Michelle and your Davih scenario-telling me to hurry my ass to her clamped car now!!! After a while, Davih begins to block out the events of such a night-and starts a clean slate, a slate that allows him to be himself all over again not affected by past encounters because to him thats all they are, past forgotten encounters.
Davih begins to think about his dream guy. He usually thinks about the famous. At first it would be one figure like Kellan Lutz. Then Paul Walker, Gael Garcia Bernal, Albert Reed and Ryan Reynolds would all pop up, naked of course, all giving me a cheeky wink......
.......ten minutes later, Davih begins to focus on the reality that, that would never never happen. He begins to local, after realizing that nothing in Dublin interests him-he drifts towards his career and the idea of traveling. London, Australia, maybe even Canada. He begins to think maybe a nurse isn't the job he thrives to do. Maybe an actor, a writer or even a director. But for such a concept to be achieved, he needs something original. He needs something that was never thought of before. He thinks politics, sex (again), relationships and even religion. Then something hits him, he thinks on the lines of the afterlife and reincarnation. Although such concepts are not original, he's on a roll, he has an idea and it develops into this;
-We have a young twenty year old man whom suffers from epilepsy. One night when he's out he has a seizure but bangs his head heavily off the corner of a table. He's brought to hospital for observations and when all is clear, he his discharged home. Everything seems to be going normal until he begins to get weird nightmares. These dreams are all centered in the early 90's and around a murder, each one revisits the murder more clearly.
-They begin to feel to real to him , he begins to take notes and investigates the murder. He soon finds out that such a murder did take place, everything he dreamed fitted exactly with the murder case. The murderer committed suicide after the horrific murders. The date that he died was the day that my lead was born. He becomes freaked! Why did he dream such dreams? The dates....was it a coincidence?
-He tells his girlfriend who tells him to not worry, that he is reading to much into everything. But it is clear that everything is freaking him out to much and we witness him become distant and a recluse. His attitude changes and it soon becomes visible to his girlfriend and the audience that maybe the lead and the murderer have a lot more in common than meets the eye.
How will it end?
Davih never got that far, he got distracted by a phone call.
So there you have it, a glimpse in the mind of Davih Cassidy.
Well this blog is your lucky blog.
When Davih is broke and not happy with the content that the T.V. televises his mind begins to drift.
First he begins to think about past events, which with him was Friday night. Davih got drunk, danced, had a laugh, met a man and wakes up to the sound of Michelle in his right ear. He can still hear the echo of her giving out, never in the wrong attitude, the I'm Michelle and your Davih scenario-telling me to hurry my ass to her clamped car now!!! After a while, Davih begins to block out the events of such a night-and starts a clean slate, a slate that allows him to be himself all over again not affected by past encounters because to him thats all they are, past forgotten encounters.
Davih begins to think about his dream guy. He usually thinks about the famous. At first it would be one figure like Kellan Lutz. Then Paul Walker, Gael Garcia Bernal, Albert Reed and Ryan Reynolds would all pop up, naked of course, all giving me a cheeky wink......
.......ten minutes later, Davih begins to focus on the reality that, that would never never happen. He begins to local, after realizing that nothing in Dublin interests him-he drifts towards his career and the idea of traveling. London, Australia, maybe even Canada. He begins to think maybe a nurse isn't the job he thrives to do. Maybe an actor, a writer or even a director. But for such a concept to be achieved, he needs something original. He needs something that was never thought of before. He thinks politics, sex (again), relationships and even religion. Then something hits him, he thinks on the lines of the afterlife and reincarnation. Although such concepts are not original, he's on a roll, he has an idea and it develops into this;
-We have a young twenty year old man whom suffers from epilepsy. One night when he's out he has a seizure but bangs his head heavily off the corner of a table. He's brought to hospital for observations and when all is clear, he his discharged home. Everything seems to be going normal until he begins to get weird nightmares. These dreams are all centered in the early 90's and around a murder, each one revisits the murder more clearly.
-They begin to feel to real to him , he begins to take notes and investigates the murder. He soon finds out that such a murder did take place, everything he dreamed fitted exactly with the murder case. The murderer committed suicide after the horrific murders. The date that he died was the day that my lead was born. He becomes freaked! Why did he dream such dreams? The dates....was it a coincidence?
-He tells his girlfriend who tells him to not worry, that he is reading to much into everything. But it is clear that everything is freaking him out to much and we witness him become distant and a recluse. His attitude changes and it soon becomes visible to his girlfriend and the audience that maybe the lead and the murderer have a lot more in common than meets the eye.
How will it end?
Davih never got that far, he got distracted by a phone call.
So there you have it, a glimpse in the mind of Davih Cassidy.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
what the 'calendar' f***?
I was walking down Grafton Street last night, all snuggled up in my jacket, minding my own business. Turned to my right seen some calendars, continued to walk, stopped, walked back and realized it wasn't some calendars, it was actually a shop full of them. In fact the shop was called, Calendar Club.
Don't get me wrong whatever your into and all but I instantly thought this was very Talbot St of Grafton. A calendar shop on what I was believed to be one of the most prestigious streets of the world. Especially when the streets rents is one of the highest in the world. I remember the time when Meteor were finding it difficult to get a outing just because of its name, not because money was short.
And now they have a CALENDAR SHOP. What does this mean? Are we going to be expecting a euro shop along the street soon? Please don't tell me the bad times have brought this on.....a CALENDAR SHOP!!! It's a disgrace that this was allowed, I thought my eyes were playing tricks with me, but no, I double checked! Will someone please give me an explanation to this because I just don't get it.
Whats next for Grafton Street?
A shop that sells hearts in all shapes and sizes for Valentines and then some shamrocks for Paddy's Day!
Don't get me wrong whatever your into and all but I instantly thought this was very Talbot St of Grafton. A calendar shop on what I was believed to be one of the most prestigious streets of the world. Especially when the streets rents is one of the highest in the world. I remember the time when Meteor were finding it difficult to get a outing just because of its name, not because money was short.
And now they have a CALENDAR SHOP. What does this mean? Are we going to be expecting a euro shop along the street soon? Please don't tell me the bad times have brought this on.....a CALENDAR SHOP!!! It's a disgrace that this was allowed, I thought my eyes were playing tricks with me, but no, I double checked! Will someone please give me an explanation to this because I just don't get it.Whats next for Grafton Street?
A shop that sells hearts in all shapes and sizes for Valentines and then some shamrocks for Paddy's Day!
ah, ha, ha ,ha, stay alive
I've just begun my internship as a student nurse in St. Micheal's hospital last week. But before us students could go on the wards, we had to revise our CPR technique.
I soon learned that in America, they consider The Bee Gees' classic 'Stayin' Alive', the best song to follow while giving compressions to a person receiving CPR. Can you imagine? Someone gets a heart attack, the whole mood tense and panicked. I give my two breathes of mouth to mouth and then all of a sudden I look up to see the person giving compressions, bouncing his head from side to side with the beat of 'Stayin' Alive' ringing in his mind! Made me laugh.
So just in case your ever in Wax and the music gets to much for somebody and they drop to the ground. Block out the 'Din Din', think The Bee Gees and also do the following:
-Run to your victim, ask him if he's okay. If there's no response get someone to call the ambulance.
-Remember A-B-C
-Check A- which is the airway. There may be some form of obstruction, stopping the person from breathing. Look and listen for any signs of breathing, if your not getting anything, put one hand on their forehead and your under their chin. gently tilt their head backwards. By doing this you are now opening the airway. If they're still not breathing....you'll have to aid them further.
-By assisting their B-this is their breathing. you must keep your hand on their chin, with the other hand pinch their nose. Then give two breathes. Watch his lungs rise as you do this. I f there is still no response, go to step C.
-Step C is circulation. For you to know is there any circulation we want to check for a pulse. Put your finger between their windpipe and neck muscles, slightly add pressure. If you feel no beat, the heart is not beating. Now you have to give compressions (think the Bee Gees).
-Put your two hands, one on top of the other, on the sternum, this is where the lower ribs meet. interlace your fingers, lock you elbows and use your body weight for compression. Depth of compressions should be about 1.5 to 2 inches. Count aloud while you give 30 compressions. At the end of each cycle give two breathes, after 4 cycles check for any sign of consciousness. Continue if there is still no response.
You should be giving about 100 compressions per minute, 'Stayin' Alive' has nearly the same amount of beats, it has 103 beats per minute!
-Continue until aid comes you way.
I soon learned that in America, they consider The Bee Gees' classic 'Stayin' Alive', the best song to follow while giving compressions to a person receiving CPR. Can you imagine? Someone gets a heart attack, the whole mood tense and panicked. I give my two breathes of mouth to mouth and then all of a sudden I look up to see the person giving compressions, bouncing his head from side to side with the beat of 'Stayin' Alive' ringing in his mind! Made me laugh.
So just in case your ever in Wax and the music gets to much for somebody and they drop to the ground. Block out the 'Din Din', think The Bee Gees and also do the following:
-Run to your victim, ask him if he's okay. If there's no response get someone to call the ambulance.
-Remember A-B-C
-Check A- which is the airway. There may be some form of obstruction, stopping the person from breathing. Look and listen for any signs of breathing, if your not getting anything, put one hand on their forehead and your under their chin. gently tilt their head backwards. By doing this you are now opening the airway. If they're still not breathing....you'll have to aid them further.
-By assisting their B-this is their breathing. you must keep your hand on their chin, with the other hand pinch their nose. Then give two breathes. Watch his lungs rise as you do this. I f there is still no response, go to step C.
-Step C is circulation. For you to know is there any circulation we want to check for a pulse. Put your finger between their windpipe and neck muscles, slightly add pressure. If you feel no beat, the heart is not beating. Now you have to give compressions (think the Bee Gees).
-Put your two hands, one on top of the other, on the sternum, this is where the lower ribs meet. interlace your fingers, lock you elbows and use your body weight for compression. Depth of compressions should be about 1.5 to 2 inches. Count aloud while you give 30 compressions. At the end of each cycle give two breathes, after 4 cycles check for any sign of consciousness. Continue if there is still no response.
You should be giving about 100 compressions per minute, 'Stayin' Alive' has nearly the same amount of beats, it has 103 beats per minute!
-Continue until aid comes you way.
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