Weekender

So the dirty deed has been done. I slipped out of work yesterday – early as is permitted on a Friday – and made my way to the driver’s license centre, with what I hoped was all the necessary paperwork required to be granted a license. And – shock, horror – I somehow had it all. I was seen by a far more pleasant woman than the sneering functionary I’d met earlier this week.
I am now allowed to book driving lessons – only I need to wait until the license appear in my postbox.

So get ready pedestrians and cyclists and other motorists – soon I shall be gracing the highroads and by-roads of our nation’s capital by motor vehicle- a thought that I hope inspires a warm feeling of comfort among the denizens of this city.

Last night I was door-whoring again – at the Pearse Centre where there was a sold out show of the marriage-equality musical ‘The Ref’ and the fairytale with a twist ‘Waking Beauty’. I was in charge of guiding people into the ticket office to collect ticktets, and showing them the direction to the theatre, and pimping out 10euro specials for ‘Waking Beauty’ which was not yet sold out.

I had quite an unpleasant encounter with a punter.

She arrived in and barked ‘Where can I get tickets?’

‘This way to your left, are you collecting prebooked tickets.’

‘No, I’m buying one now.’

‘OK, unfortunately the show is sold out but if you’d like to wait until the last moment maybe there might be a noshow and you can have that one.’

I have heard the expression before but had never actually witnessed it in person, but her lip positively curled in contempt at me.

I stood there grinning, like a stunned mullet thinking to myself ‘Well sorry but facts are facts, it’s not my fault that someone pissed in your muesli this morning.’

Next thing, she spots someone behind me, turns her head, raises her hand to my face (she didn’t touch me but it was one of those ‘talk to the hand gestures’) and barges past me to her friend.

I was thinking ‘Oh shit, I’m going to have to get her out.’

Luckily while I was debating what to do she walked by me again, conversation with friend over, and out the door. The look of horror and the tut of disgust she directed at me as she swept by were rather hostile.

I hope she doesn’t show up today. Lowering the tone with her needless aggression.

After the show I headed to the festival club where I partook of some frosty beverages, cocktail sausage, hot chicken wings and wedges (which is a word I dislike, seeing as wedges are merely chips with notions of grandeur – it didn’t stop me from sampling them however.)

In a few moments I am heading over to Trinity where I will be smiling at the arrivals for today’s matinees – for ‘Eirebrushed’ – the 1916 Rising recalled from the afterlife by some of the unsung and forgotten gays and lesbians of the time. The 2nd matinee is for ‘Sacreligious’ – a play about the ‘St Pat’s for All Parade’ which started some years ago in Queens in response to the Manhattan parade’s exclusion of openly gay participants- well according to them faggotry was incompatible with paddywhackery. I am looking forward to both.

Tonight I take a night off from my volunteering shenanigans.

And for my night off, I am doing something fun. I am going to the theatre. To see ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ at the Gate. If the main actress, by some freak of nature turns, out to be angry woman at the theatre then I may stage a one-man walk out, tutting profusely as I do so.

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