Transport: What a difference a day makes.

The transportation system is something on which we rely. It does more than just take us from A to B, but instead takes us from A to iBiza and C to Donegal whilst ensuring one need not put a foot on the ground in the process. Yes it is true the transportation system has evolved wonderfully and with its timetable precision apps, ‘when’s my bus’ texts and online book-ins this system has used social media and it’s marketing to it’s fullest to ensure service is of only the highest quality. One would have to be an idiot to complicate their journey. This is where I come in. Hi I’m Paula and I’m a traveling idiot.

It is true I do suffer from the idiotic gene in most aspects of my life, but its symptoms show up stronger in some areas than others. These areas include remembering names, pronunciation of words, knowing when jokes are inappropriate and, of course, transporting myself from A to B. Now I’m not putting full blame of the latter personal fault on the transportation system itself, I am very much to blame. Even in walking from A to B I will inevitably be distracted by talking to companions, stopping for chocolate and/or seeing something shiny. Transport is difficult for the easily distracted.

In regards to commercial transport I have, in the space of a day, lost faith in any humanity behind their systems. Ok, that is a bit extreme but I did have a terrible day. So for all the ‘pleasant journey’ Bus Eireann adverts and Air Coach’s offers of a luxurious service all I can think is what a load of…(*must not use offensive language)….lies. Yes they lie. Now as a Marketing Major I understand that these companies do not lie in spite of the consumer and it is an integral part of their job to communicate their company as positively as possible, but with services so shocking I struggle to see how their marketing managers manage this. So yes what a difference a day makes…

…one Friday morning I awoke happily in anticipation for the trip that lay ahead of me. Granted, I also awoke with feelings of unease (and if you read the previous blog, which was based on the previous night you will understand why) but mostly feelings of excitement. I was traveling to Edinburgh for a friend’s birthday and was terribly excited. There were some downfalls in my trip however which were as follows:

1)      Cork flights were too expensive so I had to fly from Dublin.

2)      I was traveling alone.

3)      I am an idiot (see above paragraphs)

4)      I was injured. (I’m actually writing this blog from an A&E waiting room).

The plan was simple.

·              Get myself to the aircoach stop (on the other side of the city) for 13:00 hrs.

·              Take bus to Dublin airport.

·              Have 2 and a half hours spare time prior to flight for ‘just in case’.

·              Don’t be an idiot.

·              Don’t be injured.

Immediately I had failed two parts of the plan. Things weren’t looking so great. So yes as I was suffering with a broken foot, the forty or so minute walk to the coach stop didn’t seem the most tempting. What would one do in such a situation? Get a city centre bus perhaps? Not in Cork would you dare do such a thing. Knowing far too well of Cork City center bus policy of arriving every 15 minutes (The policy is that they don’t have one.) walking was really the only option. It turned out to be the right option as not one bus passed me on my route…thus meaning I’d still be waiting at that bus-stop now….14 days later. That’s strike one transportation system.

Three Strikes and you're out.

As I almost arrive at my stop (in tremendous pain) to get the aircoach what does it do as I am seconds from the bus stop but drive off. I attempt to run after the bus but with a broken foot this proves difficult. I’ve missed my bus because it wouldn’t stop for the cripple. Thanks. I really appreciate it. That’s strike two.

Distraught from this I make my way to Bus Eireann’s station and am there for about 13:03 and the 13:00 bus was gone. For the first time in history the bus had left on time. The one time I need it. Brilliant. (At this stage I hope you’re realizing how much I dislike transport) Much time is spent at this station deciding where to go next, whether wait for the next bus, catch a different flight or the next train. I opt for the train and make my merry way to Cork’s train station. Oh did I type merry? I meant to say miserable, yes quite miserable. So miserable to say if somebody stopped me to ask the time/support a charity/sign a petition I would have headbutted them. No exaggeration, just a swift headbutt and continued on limping away. That gives you an idea of the misery the transportation system here inflicts on its customers.

What next? Oh yes the train. So I made the 13:30 Dublin train…or so I thought. Whilst my laser card is in the machine processing the transaction the women behind the counter announces, with no remorse whatsoever, ‘oh too late’ and the intercom blows its whistle indicating doors were locked. Brilliant. Missed that train by roughly 30 seconds. Strike three.

This doesn't even do the queue length justice

So I get the next train and catch an airlink from Hueston Station to the airport. At this stage I am feeling more relaxed, I still had an hour and a half to make it to my boarding gate. Soon I’d be eating fudge and looking at men in kilts, all was good in the world. This was until the DAA and Dublin Airport decide ‘lets cause as much chaos and inconvenience as possible’…and you know what, they succeed. At peak time for traveling, that is 6 pm on a Friday evening, the kind people at DublinAirport close the majority of their security gates, forcing every single person flying from the airport to queue in the one queue to get through airport security. I’m not sure if any of you have seen a queue with everybody from an international airport queing at the one time, rush hour time, well it’s long. Very long. An hour and 20 minutes long. So for all DAA’s recent advertising of its new terminal in Dublin Airport it’s failed its customers completely. That’s strike four, five, six, heck strike infinity! The queue was in a state of panic with every single member of it worrying they’d miss their flights and these were genuine concerns. Technically I missed mine. When I say that, I mean by the time I got through security, at an average rate of 16 times longer than what it should have taken, and eventually limped my way to my boarding gate it was closed. Thankfully I worked the pathetic look very well and convinced a member of staff to reopen the gate for me. I really did look pathetic.

So D.A.A you have a great marketing campaign at the moment advertising the opening of Dublin Airport’s second terminal. It’s an ad that captures our attention, it’s moving, makes us proud to be Irish, makes us proud of the airports achievements and is all in all a great campaign. However for all the singing of your own praises in said ad, could attention to your actual customers not have taken priority?

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdjLBXlieI0

I almost missed my flight and would not have been able to afford a new one. I’m sure dozens and dozens of passengers actually missed their flights last Friday and I don’t know how well they could have convinced men in security to reopen the gates for them. Like I said, I worked the pathetic look, I don’t know had I not been a 21 year old girl in a short skirt with a limp would those puppy eyes have gone down so well.

Having read this I hope you are feeling as much anger towards public transport as I am. Maybe it’s not every country, maybe Ireland has just excelled in its field of irritating passengers and if so, I take my hat off to you. You truly are professionals. 

If any readers want to share their horror stories please do. The ranting will make you feel better, and unlike your friends, I’ll be hearing your story for the first time so you can exaggerate as much as you like. Because as we all know, in regards to traveling, what a difference a day makes!

What happens at the Comm Ball stays at the Comm Ball….except Herpes. That stuff will follow you home.

Well girls and boys weren’t we lucky this week with opportunities to put on pretty dresses and suits and pretend we’re respectable people. That’s right it was the wonderful time of year for The Comm Ball. For Commerce people it is the highlight of the social year…for non-commerce people, it is a great opportunity to slag Comm heads for actually believing it’s the social highlight of the year. It is fun though….I think? I’m not sure. I don’t really remember.

This year the people over in Commerce Society HQ (*I’m imaging they work in some sort of evil manor on top of a creepy hill cackling with insanity from all the power*) went for a Vegas theme for the ball. Oh viva las Vegas…or well Viva las Rochestown to be more precise. This theme I must say was carried out with great detail. From blackjack tables to questionably gendered and skimpily dressed she-males to a woman with a snake wrapped around her, the theme was definitely in place. Oh, and if you hadn’t figured out the theme was Vegas by this stage you’re an idiot and you deserve to read my blog. Be gone! The most obvious clue to the theme was our tickets being poker chips…as I said if you hadn’t figured things out by now…seriously just leave.

Bowels full of hallucinogenic goodness.

Now to the most important thing; the drink. Yes, there was drink. Drink was drank and drinkers became drunk. It’s quite simple really. And boy did we get drunk. Firstly we were greeted with a champagne reception; which was all terribly eloquent. Granted the majority of champagne drinkers struggling to balance the glass and the naggins hid in various places across their bodies made the reception slightly less fancy…but only slightly. Then throughout the dinner wine was a-flowing and we were a-drinking. This of course helped enhance the flavours of our meals and the interest in our company and all in all make the meal a great success. Then we hit the motherload of complimentary drinks at this lovely ball of ours. The fishbowels. Now to those who are unaware of what fishbowels are if not just to act as a home to your pet goldfish; fishbowels are large bowels of potent cocktails who’s sole purpose in life is to brutally massacre any sense of dignity and/or ability to speak. Mission accomplished fishbowels. Mission accomplished. So yes upon arrival of those bowels we, being the lovely dressed up ladies and gentlemen that we were, immediately stood up and turned what should be a casual cocktail into a downing race of epic proportions. Then we repeated with two more bowels….then things get terribly hazy. Funny that.

So yes the Ball was a great success. An opportunity to look at everyone all dolled up (and creep on the beautiful boys in suits) and converse with all your classmates in the closest we’re ever going to get to a Vegas casino. Inevitably people will have exchanged words that will regret the following morning, swapped salvia with some questionable choices and if you were terribly unfortunate, complete a walk of shame the next morning complete in ball gown and hickees.

Now in case the title of this ball confuses you there is a reason behind it. The Comm society for all their merits in throwing a great party shamed us all with their truly terrible tag line. ‘What happens at the Comm Ball stays at the Comm Ball’. Just typing that is embarrassing. We know full well what happens at the Comm Ball will be gossiped, joked about and tagged in photographic evidence the following morning. What happens at the Comm Ball will follow you around like those bad hickees you let that girl from your economics class give you. Deal with it. And heck, if you’re lucky enough to be final years you can try to just avoid said vampire girl for the rest of your remaining days. Good luck with that!

(Don't say you haven't been warned: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nre-qydGY44 )

But yes to conclude; we had a ball……… (*oh that was a terrible pun. Forgive me.)

God, I've heard about those cults Ted. People dressing up in black and saying Our Lord's going to come back and save us all. No, Dougal, that's us. That's Catholicism.

I must say UCC Ultimate Frisbee Club I take my hat off to you…and then probably throw it over in a fast spinny way so that you can catch it and further prove your Frisbee talents. The reason for this dedication is not because I have developed a sudden love for throwing objects at people and finally found a club which welcomes this with open arms (they have to have their arms open really, how else would they catch those darned things) but because the other night UCC Ultimate Frisbee Club put on one hell of a show. I attended a Father Ted themed quiz round in UCC’s Old bar (or the ‘New’ Old bar as they are now called because of their recent renovations….but come to think of it the New bar has even more recently been renovated so does that send the ‘New’ Old bar back to being the Old bar once again? My head hurts. I’m blaming the bar formally known as the Old bar and all it supplies for this one.) But yes, my point; I went to a Father Ted quiz.

There was something about this quiz that really impressed me, in fact there were many many things about this quiz that impressed me. This club really put a lot of effort into their night and it was clear it wasn’t a night that was thrown together like ‘Right Friends quiz…6 rounds, 1 round on each character, book the old bar, grab a box of celebrations for the prize, right we’re good to go.’ No no, this club put far more effort into their organization. (Granted I have a minor criticism which I will get to later so Freisbeer’s I will warn you when to look away). It was clear the organizers of this quiz really had a bit of fun with this one from their fancy dress theme to prizes referenced in the show. Also the bar was terribly packed to the extent that additional answer sheets were needed and heck nothing like a bit of competition to get the blood going. This I used as an incentive when rallying up friends to come along to the quiz texting them motivational quotes like ‘LETS LICK SOME ARSE!!!! I mean KICK SOME ARSE!!!’

So yes the content of the quiz itself was good. It was tough, even for I, a self proclaimed ted enthusiast with some horribly difficult questions like name Fr. Dick Byrne’s entry into a ‘Song for Ireland’ and what was on the bedstand in Ted and Doughal’s room (besides the Pope John Paul II clock, of course) see I liked these questions because they were tough. To quote the quizmaster ‘they separated the men from the boys’ and that they did. What I didn’t like about the quiz content (*Frisbee people if you have indeed taken time to read this…look away now) was the excessive repetition from the same episodes. My word was there a heck of a lot of questions from the pilot episode ‘Good luck, Father Ted’. A Christmassy Ted too popped his head up quite a bit with not one question about Rudd Guiltt sitting on a shed. And you know what I wouldn’t have minded a dash of inquisition as to whether or not Father Jessop took the new road or went round by Southern Yemin. That said I’ll forgive the quiz for their spirit was terrific. (Theres a little taster below for you)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bn0wFvEJow

Let’s get to the good stuff. The organizers dressed up. That alone was fantastic. Granted dressing as a priest is not the most difficult thing in the world but hey, I don’t see any wrong commending this. I especially appreciated one chaps initiative to cut his red jumper into a sweater vest and ta daa, an uncanny Fr. Doughal is born. (*Lazy people please take note here for next year Halloween costume ideas.) Then there was the fancy dress competition. Now not too many partook in this probably because Halloween festivities are so recently finished but still some people made the effort. The winner was a convincing and deserving Mrs Doyle (complete with mole )but my personal favourtie were the two Pete Sampris’s; that were rabbits dressed in tennis gear….cause you know Tennis Rabbits the whole connection there. Actually now that I type this I’m not sure were the two rabbits Pete or was one just a Rabbit which would make him Eamon? (That beaut Doughal backed at the Dog turned Rabbit track…hmmmmmm….anyone who knows please comment on which he was). Then there were the fantastic prizes; an I. SHOT J.R top being one and the other, the prize which possible made me fall in love with Frisbeers forever, was….a cake jumper!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whoever made that cake jumper, I salute you! That was fan-fudging-tastic.

There was also a lovely girls contest in which the girls with lovely bottoms were subjected to walking around cones and a lovely laugh contest. All of which was almost tear inducenely funny. The only way this could have been better was if the winner won a dinner for two with which she must bring the host of the contest with her…oh and of course, she’ll be paying. Then there was the contest for worse team. This contest consisted of calling up a member of each of the few worst teams onto stage (*Whom we also noted had the worst names…probably some sort of correlation between Ted knowledge and an appreciation for good team names there) and getting them to partake in a blindfolded sandwich making competition. Brilliant! Our team member Mary (who was a complete stranger that we recruited for the night…great laugh) suggested that someone should cut the sandwiches into the shape of airplanes. I think if somebody managed to do this blindfolded they deserve a statue erected in their honour in the bar formally known as the Old Bar.

If only we knew what he wanted to dress as...!?!

So yes, who doesn’t love a good quiz! What we do note however is that the spirit of quizzes is kind of gone out the window as those popular iTelephones came in. See it’s far too easy these days to google answers and taking away the challenge of the quiz in the first place. Granted this wasn’t the case for this quiz as the answers such as what foreign sportsperson/ entertainer Doughal would like to dress as would be quite hard to find online but say, googling the capital of a country would be a piece of jumper cake!

So yes all in all the quiz was good. Real good. Clubs should take note from Frisbeers in their future attempts to organize. They know how to throw a party! (you get it...throw....like a frisbee...its funny right!?!)

Honourable Mentions:

I may be a fan. 

Yes there are some honourable mentions here as one of my team mates feels we may have been robbed in the Best Team Name competition. Although the winners who’s name was the politically incorrect and I’ll probably get in trouble for typing this; ‘Protestants touch children too’ received great reaction from the crowd it is felt amongst our group that true Ted enthusastis would appreciate more referenced names and were quite upset upon ‘St Lukes Youth Group’ not even getting a shout out. Forshame. (I knew we should have went we ‘I’m not going to America to umpire drive by shooting competitions’. ) If anybody has any team name suggestions ye feel would go down a treat, please comment them below so I can steal them and pretend their my ideas. Much appreciated. 

Isn't it awfully easy to stalk...

It really is terribly easy. This topic has come to mind having completed a social media bootcamp today. Thankfully we didn't have to do push-ups while holding twenty desk-tops on our backs or any bootcamp like business in that sense (*thank heavens, the most I can push up is probably an embarrassing eighteen desktops which just wouldn't have made the cut. ) But yes having looked at all these media tools I couldn't help but think, gee wizz the internet makes it easy to stalk.

The most obvious example of this is the fact that you're reading my thoughts right now. This is basically an online diary which I'm inviting you to read. Why am I doing that? Well its for a class project, otherwise I don't think I would. Its just a bit odd to me. I've read the funny oneliner  'Man Anne Frank would be pissed if she knew everyone read her diary' and I quite think theres a point there. Hell if I was Anne Frank I'd be pissed. I'd also be pissed at the living in an annex, being brutalized, enslaved and eventually murdered by the Nazi's, having only one boy my age around to throw eyes at and all that jazz, but hey the diary part is quite annoying too.

See the internet is a place where you can create a name for yourself or not. It's made great stars out of some people but its also a place where you can be put without your knowing. About 10 months ago or so my friend Sean stumbled upon something that he found curious. It was a video of two girls working in an icecream shop dancing to the music as they closed up. Not the most curious of videos you would think except Sean, knowing that icecream shop all too well and instantly recognizing one of the dancers as one of his oldest (and I'm going to be cocky here and say dearest) friends. Thats right, I was in the video. So there I was dancing away on youtube unbeknown to myself. Currently resting at 269 views, to which 20 or so I can attribute to Sean and I,  means 249 people have sat in what I can only assume was their underwear on a Sunday night watching my pathetic attempt of dancing. See the internet is creepy. Granted people in the outside world are creepy too. In particular those people who stood across the road from Murphy's Icecream that night recording Sandra and I dance. Yes they are also creepy.
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XITK9ip-guw&feature=related

Then there are things like tweeting and that malawrky. I am going to be brash here and just say it; I don't like Twitter. Hopefully a giant bright blue 2D bird doesn't come and attack me before I finish this post now but yes. It's not for me. Have you read about the couple who as they were about to have their marriage confirmed at the alter, paused for a moment for the husband to tweet it. I'm telling you that husband would be seeing a lot of lonely nights and a sudden increase in the strength of his right hand if he was to even consider doing that on my wedding day. What was he thinking!?!! Really?

Then there's Facebook. Oh Facebook you are to creeping what water is to the sea. You really are the icing on the cake in the land of the creeps. Facebook, while great for all it's social networking attributes, can be at times just that step away from lurking outside someones bushes with camouflage makeup and a pair of binoculars. I feel so strongly about Facebook stalking that I believe it should be saved for another day but lets just say this. People put alot of their lives up on Facebook and can choose who they share these glimpses of their lives with. But do they choose who those 'friends' of theres share it with. I'm not a fan of Facebook stalking and never have been. If a friend was away on holidays its likely I'm not going to know what country they were in regardless of their constant status updates...
 'Got my tickets to Turkey...'
 'On the way to the airport can't wait for Turkey'.
 'OMG Turkey is soooooooooooo nice. Everyone should come here.'
 'Overdid it on Turkish food. Such a great Holiday.'
 'I miss Turkey soooooo much.'
' This time last week I was in a pool in Turkey :'( '
 'Hey everyone pictures of Turkey are finally up, LOLZ'

...which means it's pretty much guaranteed I am not going to look at said photos of...where did she go again? (*Now I'm not saying I don't use Facebook and have a poke around, I do. I love it. In fact I'm on it right now. It's just I don't care to creep all that much....maybe if someone says 'Have you seen X's tattoo of a rainbow on his forehead, its his new profile picture' then yes I will go look at my friend X..who I will forever more call Skittles and try to lick his forehead to 'taste the rainbow' but that aside I don't facebook stalk). Now that that is said the point I am making is people do stalk and I have partaken in stalking activity which has made me all the more aware of this. A friend of mine who's name I shall leave out for privacy reasons (you know who you are) is ridiculous for stalking. Every minute of every day is spent clicking through a baking conventions' dozen of photos of that person they barely know. (Which means she probably doesn't know who she is as she probably won't navigate away from Facebook long enough to read this) It wasn't until one night when I was shown a photo of someone so that I could place a face with the name was I a member of a 'creeping session'. Basically what started as one look resulted in looking through every single photo of this unsuspecting chap. This was all fine, albeit a little weird, until I met mister unsuspecting chap on campus. The thing was I never met this lad in my life, we were to one another what should be perfect strangers.....except we weren't. Thanks to the openness of the internet, this girl walking past him to whom he didn't acknowledge knew his name, age, what course he did, how he knew her friend, where he went on his J1, what instrument he played, where him and his friends went out in Cork, what apt blocked he lived in...basically everything about him. This freaks me out a little as I walk through campus thinking I might take a leaflet of someone to who should be a stranger when she in fact knows everything about me.......and thats just plain creepy.

Yes the internet is a very strange place full of very strange people. That said, if you're one of those strange people, heck you're in for a treat. Enjoy creeps. Stalk us proud!!!!

This site is under construction....I just haven't got around to the construction part yet.

I sat down to write this, then I got hungry, then I ignored my hunger, then I scrolled on Facebook for a while then I flicked through my iTunes because nothing was quiet hitting the spot (I settled on Josh Ritter), then acknowledged my hunger once again, made breakfast (scrambled eggs if you are wondering…which you weren’t but now you know and that’s a bit of memory space I’ve completely wasted for you) then I started to type this. Now, since you know my timeline actions we’re good to go…

So I’ve been wondering how to develop this bad boy of a blog and with limited technical knowledge and a general apathetic view towards life, this has been quite challenging. But there is one major development to the page that I’m terribly proud of. I’ve added a ‘Like this’ linky-ma-bob (that’s the technical term, its all terribly complex, you wouldn’t understand) to my page. This involved doing things like adding Java Script and everything. And to think in my 8^th month working in an IT company penny’s wouldn’t drop. Oh they’ve dropped my friend. Dropped good. I basically feel Mark Zuckerburg in the Social Network smart right about now. So yes, all twelve of my current followers (my apostles if you will) feel free to ‘Like’ this and any other faceless readers (creeps if you will) do help yourself to this app, suggest to friends, heck do whatever the fudge you want with it!

So there’s been another minor development in this project. I’ve decided to make a video blog. Well by decided, I mean intended. I did really want to make a video blog but there are obstacles I had to overcome first. First and foremost I don’t have a video-camera or any form of recording device, yes quite the obstacle there. Secondly there was no clear structure to the recordings. I wanted to blog about the Cork Jazz Festival which took place last week in Cork of all places. However what was intended to be an award winning and ground breaking documentary about the festival (I had my Emmy speech at the ready) turned out to be…well turned out to be shaky, blurry, drunken slurs at a camera. Sure it may work for The Blairewitch Project but my drooling onto a camera probably wouldn’t create as much hype. And thirdly, and this is quite the stinker, well thirdly I’m just not very good for being on camera. You know the phrase ‘a face for the radio’ well I have what could only generously be called ‘a voice for the deaf radio’. So perhaps listening to me shout at a camera would only be popular in areas of conflict as a form of torture and not recommended as a means of social entertainment. So as you can see, there are quite a few obstacles in the way for creating this video but I’m not ruling it out yet. Never say never and all that jazz. I guess you will just have to keep checking in to see eh?

Buying peoples respect? There's a coupon for that!

Today I think I will talk about a subject that is very near and dear to all of us students; Coupons. That right, those blessed little gifts of joy disguised in shiny book like wrapping. See, we as students are in a very exclusive phase of our life’s whereby coupons are not only acceptable to use, but praised! The more one saves off a chicken kiev the more impressive one looks. Coupons are marvelous inventions especially at the hands of a market savvy student, to whom 20% of a haircut in town is the equivalent of buy one Ferrari get one free to the son of an oil tycoon.  How the coupon is presented is of course of great importance to the ever so easily distracted student and in general there are four types of coupons floating about a typical campus region:

1) Books of tokens: Although the most impressive looking it can often be the most disappointing, merely offering you a discounted driving lesson on your tenth lesson or Two for One entrance into the Cork Butter Museum. In general nothing worth really holding onto. Granted you offer the occasionally tempting Little John’s offer but realistically the trek is not worth the treat and you will never be used. Oh and if you arrive in our mail box nine times in the one week we will use you for squashing spiders/rolling cigarettes/ unsanitary disposal methods that I shall not discuss further. Just a heads up.

Behind those happy eyes lies pure evil.

2) Leaflets handed at the gates of campus: Oh yes Mr ‘I’m dressed as a giant Subway Sandwich.’ I see you and you see me. We can dance the dance of avoiding eye-contact all we want but like it or not I will finish that tango with a leaflet that offers me a meal deal for five euro in my hand. Useful…if meal deals weren’t already five euro. Don’t disguise yourself as a coupon. You’re just another ad. 

As for you manipulative vultures that are Bank people, you, oh you, are the scum of the coupon-type people. You stand at the gates of the campus, shiny eyed and aluminous t-shirted roping us in with offers of free money and rucksacks. You all caught me on day one of college, signing me up to an impressive three banks in all of…I don’t know, seven minutes? As much as I regret my multiple empty bank accounts what disgusts me even more of the bank campus people is they never give up. Three years later you still get hounded by them as you try to make your way to campus. Surely there should be some sort of charity sponsorship set-up where you should get some sort of immunity sticker to say you’re a member.

3) Back of receipts: These forgotten players in the coupon game are often neglected by students. A puppy after Christmas syndrome if you will. Their neglect is self inflected as these coupons are aimed not at students but at those who have a disposable income that they plan to spend on more than just poptarts and Dutch Gold. In the eyes of students the backs of receipts are mostly unwanted ‘treats’ like hotel breaks and spa weekends. But what’s this I suddenly see? Two cinema tickets and popcorn for 14 euro? Why back of receipts perhaps you may have redeemed yourself. 

4) Specialized booklets: Specialized booklets, as I am categorizing them, are the booklets that you receive in your promotional goodie bags and/or through your postbox. The difference with these little beauts is that you actually want them. These booklets are dedicated to just one company (typically for a food establishment such as Four Star or Dominos*) and come complete with everything a student needs. What is great about the specialized booklet is that the hardest part in a student’s day is over; they have decided what they want for dinner. Now all that’s left is choosing what offer to use. So there’s no trudging through menu’s of Chinese, Italians and Indians, you have decided ‘I’m having this company’s pizza. End of. A second advantage of the specialized booklet is their amazing ability to make the student feel like a genius. In a group decision he who discovers the most economical offer will be rewarded with praise, adoration and first borns named in their honour. He who realizes that Domino’s spend 40 euro and get 50% off means if they get 41 euro worth of pizza they need only spend 20.50 is guaranteed at least enough children in their honour to have a crèche named after them.

I must, when writing this, include a very special shout out to a dedicated Domino Pizza employee who went above and beyond his call of coupon delivering duty; a mighty enough call of duty as it is. This happy employee delivered his latest batch of coupons, not through the post box nor on the street but through my bedroom window. That’s right, this chap walked up to my ground floor bedroom while I was pottering around inside and stuck his head in the window to hand me my coupon. Although this sounds terribly intrustive/ restraint order worthy, I found it hilarious. I must include here it wasn’t done in a ‘Peeping Tom’ manner….my windows are abnormally huge, with eight of them in total, all of which were open. So to him, I was basically standing in my yard. Still, hilarious none-the-less.

On that note I invite you to tell me of your personal favourite coupons, or personally useless coupons...all suggestions welcome! Also if there are anything you would like me to include in a blog, let me know, I'm as open as your pants buttons at Christmas...

Side Note:

* I have not been endorsed to promote Domino’s nor Four Star. I will however happily accept any form of endorsement in the form of free pizza….double pepperoni and cheese please. Go on sure, if you insist, I’ll take the garlic pizza bread too.

Hello, is it me you're looking for...?

Oh Hello there,

Didn't see you pop in. Nice to meet you too. What am I doing here you ask? Well, basically I’m creating a blog with no clear structure or goals. Why is that you ask? Because well….I have no clear structure or goals in life yet have been asked to create a blog. Are my opinions worth following you may wonder? Well, probably not, but sure have a bit of a look and if it’s not for you then no harm done right? If it is for you then I gladly welcome all comments, feedback and monetary tokens of appreciation.  As a student who embraces student life far more than studies this blog will be devoted to the general musings of a student, particularly a student in Cork. Sure we’ll see how this goes…

It may interest you to know who I am…well ok then. I’m a Commerce student studying in UCC. (*Feel free to judge my lack of soul here). I was born at a very young age and have since got older. My interests include:  sleeping in, talking nonsense, watching Fair City (*The greatest accidental comedy known to man…a topic which I’m sure I will dive into on a later date) and generally being an uncontributing member of society. My disinterests include: Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. Seriously, the drink is too milky and the rain is too pneumonia inducing for my liking. So there we have it, it’s like we’re best friends now. Ok maybe not best friends, but at least acquaintances that will awkwardly nod at one another if we met on the street. Fantastic!

So yes there we have it. A blog about general student activates. Now I’m not referring to activates such as ‘Today I attended a Chess Club Meeting. We played chess.’ But more things that are significant only to a student, for it must be said, we are a grand race altogether. We can do things no other grouping of people can do and are judged for things no other grouping of people would be judged. This morning for example I was rushing for work. It being a bitterly cold morning I decided to bring a cup of tea with me. Of course I didn’t have a flask however, that would be far too prepared, so as I watched my watch bearing in mind the bus times, I quickly scanned the kitchen for any object that would suffice as a tea holding apparatus. Choosing a large red plastic cup as my ‘flask’ off I went happily to the bus. (Well…not happily it was still morning and I was going to work….but less miserably we’ll say). Standing at the bus stop, cradling my red plastic cup for dear life (…it’s warmth provided lovely tea happiness as well as a replacement for gloves…) I thought nothing unusual of my appearance. This however was not the case to my ever-friendly bus driver whom upon pulling up threw me evil eyes like none other. For a moment I pondered had I accidentally misplaced my cup with a keg of radioactive material to have deserved such a look…when it hit me. My red plastic cup was the token symbol of college parties. This although a Hollywood stereotype had clearly clicked with my bus driver, who for moment considered whether or not to ask me what was in the cup. Because of this red cup it was assumed I was a wild college student on my way home from/heading to some ‘rocking’ college party…even though it was 7 am, I was in a wooly jumper and clearly very painfully sober.  Had I not been a student I strongly believe this would not have been the case. Had I waited at the bus stop suited up, briefcase in one hand and red plastic cup in the other I probably would have been complimented on my flask making  initiative. But alas no. As a student I was judged.

Not for students. Especially students who like tea.

These are the obstacles students must overcome, the stereotypes assumed upon them and the obliviousness we are to the judging looks of the outside world. Not that I am complaining, I am happy to be in our bubble safe from realities of mortgages or whether or not I remembered to play the group’s syndicate lotto. So for as long as I remember to post this blog I shall delve into the weirdly wonderful world of a student and I invite you to join me, interact with my posts and generally have a bit of a rant. Sure it’s great fun to have a rant. Especially if everyone agrees with you. Then you feel very smart. Very smart indeed.