And there's more...

I kept forgetting to bring the poem with me.

Wallet?

Check.

Keys?

Check?

Poem to leave in a shop to be found by an unsuspecting shopper to brighten their day during the stressful Christmas season?

Forgotten :(


Thankfully I had the best Christmas present and met up with the lovely Various Cushions - IPYPIASM originator extraordinaire - for a coffee yesterday. And she suggested, why didn't I just transcribe the poem there and then and place it in a shop, immediately!

So I did!

The evidence -

It was more of a before Christmas day poem, but hey, better late than never.

I hashtagged again - for those unfamiliar with the hashtag, it makes your term searchable on Twitter - I've been tweeting about IPYPIASM - and been directing people back to the blogosphere...sure, maybe the cleaning lady is crumbling up my poem without a second thought, but, hey, I know if I found a poem, the curiosity would kill me :)

Anyway, here's the text of the poem - not my finest work, but hey, who cares, it's all part of the IPYPIASM spirit!

Don't Count

For now don't count
the calories
don't tot those pennies spent
just dose your liver
till it's all a quiver
and the last belt notch is rent
have that chocolate Kimberly
that tin of roses too
buy a gift, don't be spendthrift
Get yourself a treat this year!
And don't forget the booze
go buy a crate of beer,
a bottle or nine of a conducive wine
don't stint, don't stint, don't stint!
Cause remember that when it's January
we'll be thrust once more t' penury
so eat and drink and give
2013 is time enough for cold reality.

And there's more...

I kept forgetting to bring the poem with me.

Wallet?

Check.

Keys?

Check?

Poem to leave in a shop to be found by an unsuspecting shopper to brighten their day during the stressful Christmas season?

Forgotten :(


Thankfully I had the best Christmas present and met up with the lovely Various Cushions - IPYPIASM originator extraordinaire - for a coffee yesterday. And she suggested, why didn't I just transcribe the poem there and then and place it in a shop, immediately!

So I did!

The evidence -

It was more of a before Christmas day poem, but hey, better late than never.

I hashtagged again - for those unfamiliar with the hashtag, it makes your term searchable on Twitter - I've been tweeting about IPYPIASM - and been directing people back to the blogosphere...sure, maybe the cleaning lady is crumbling up my poem without a second thought, but, hey, I know if I found a poem, the curiosity would kill me :)

Anyway, here's the text of the poem - not my finest work, but hey, who cares, it's all part of the IPYPIASM spirit!

Don't Count

For now don't count
the calories
don't tot those pennies spent
just dose your liver
till it's all a quiver
and the last belt notch is rent
have that chocolate Kimberly
that tin of roses too
buy a gift, don't be spendthrift
Get yourself a treat this year!
And don't forget the booze
go buy a crate of beer,
a bottle or nine of a conducive wine
don't stint, don't stint, don't stint!
Cause remember that when it's January
we'll be thrust once more t' penury
so eat and drink and give
2013 is time enough for cold reality.

Multimedia IPYPIASM!

Yes, I've IPYPIASMed!

Finally.

Deposited in the pound (euro?) shop in The Square, Tallaght, this little ditty -

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I've been a little bit naughty

I've been a little bit nice

what say you still get me a pressie

and we'll go halvsies on the price.

I won't be troubling the Nobel Prize for Literature this year with that offering, but hopefully it brought a smile to someones face.

And below is the visual evidence of my guerrilla poetry attack.

For, what I suspect, is the first time, we have VIDEO footage of an IPYPIASM incident... In my panic to dump my effort and run, I somehow managed to set my phone to video and not camera. I scrambled madly at it, all the while imagining security guards raising an army, grabbing their mace and batons and being moments away from apprehending me...

(Quite the accidental Spielberg, no?)

It was fraught! I felt like my poem might explode at any moment. Anway, in the end I escaped unscathed and they probably sold my poem for a euro.

On an aside, I was telling my baby brother all about IPYPIASM. After he pretended to think me and my crazeeeee poetry chums were wacky and cool, he suggested adding a hastag to the abandoned poems. Maybe see if any of our messages in a bottle wash up anywhere. So, at the bottom of my print out, where I'd usually just have IPYPIASM, I instead had #IPYPIASM... and I sent a few tweets using it.

I thought it was a good idea - but chances are it'll just get me arrested ;)

I like living on the edge.

Ok. Until tomorrow - TK Maxx, watch out - I'm heading your way and I'm rhyming.

Multimedia IPYPIASM!

Yes, I've IPYPIASMed!

Finally.

Deposited in the pound (euro?) shop in The Square, Tallaght, this little ditty -

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I've been a little bit naughty

I've been a little bit nice

what say you still get me a pressie

and we'll go halvsies on the price.

I won't be troubling the Nobel Prize for Literature this year with that offering, but hopefully it brought a smile to someones face.

And below is the visual evidence of my guerrilla poetry attack.

For, what I suspect, is the first time, we have VIDEO footage of an IPYPIASM incident... In my panic to dump my effort and run, I somehow managed to set my phone to video and not camera. I scrambled madly at it, all the while imagining security guards raising an army, grabbing their mace and batons and being moments away from apprehending me...

(Quite the accidental Spielberg, no?)

It was fraught! I felt like my poem might explode at any moment. Anway, in the end I escaped unscathed and they probably sold my poem for a euro.

On an aside, I was telling my baby brother all about IPYPIASM. After he pretended to think me and my crazeeeee poetry chums were wacky and cool, he suggested adding a hastag to the abandoned poems. Maybe see if any of our messages in a bottle wash up anywhere. So, at the bottom of my print out, where I'd usually just have IPYPIASM, I instead had #IPYPIASM... and I sent a few tweets using it.

I thought it was a good idea - but chances are it'll just get me arrested ;)

I like living on the edge.

Ok. Until tomorrow - TK Maxx, watch out - I'm heading your way and I'm rhyming.

IPYPIASM!!! (Well, nearly)

Yay!!!

It's IPYPIASM!!!!

I've come to it all a bit late this year (- but you know, I always do...)

And really, this post is a tad premature... I haven't, as yet, put a poem in a shop. The main reason I haven't is because I have failed to write a poem. I have tried a good few times. Nowt.

I worry that along with killing off the h. pylori bacteria that was causing my stomach ulcer, my cocktail of drugs also killed off my writing mojo!! Who knew I kept it in my tummy! Though, seeing as all the best poetry comes from your gut, so maybe I should have realised...

What to do? I suspect I need some l. casei poetritas. Good writing bacteria.

I'm off to the library to drink me in some pro-biographies, some Reader bifidus digestivum, replenish my depleted muse.

Alright, enough, I go before Martine McCutcheon turns up and starts talking shite...

IPYPIASM!!! (Well, nearly)

Yay!!!

It's IPYPIASM!!!!

I've come to it all a bit late this year (- but you know, I always do...)

And really, this post is a tad premature... I haven't, as yet, put a poem in a shop. The main reason I haven't is because I have failed to write a poem. I have tried a good few times. Nowt.

I worry that along with killing off the h. pylori bacteria that was causing my stomach ulcer, my cocktail of drugs also killed off my writing mojo!! Who knew I kept it in my tummy! Though, seeing as all the best poetry comes from your gut, so maybe I should have realised...

What to do? I suspect I need some l. casei poetritas. Good writing bacteria.

I'm off to the library to drink me in some pro-biographies, some Reader bifidus digestivum, replenish my depleted muse.

Alright, enough, I go before Martine McCutcheon turns up and starts talking shite...

40 And Not Out...

Hello darlings,


So, I survived. I turned 40 and I didn't spontaneously combust. In fact everything has pretty much carried on as normal! Whodathunkit.

But, I have been making changes. I decided living my life at a pace where I didn't need botox for my wrinkles as the g-forces from rushing around were doing the job instead, just had to end. I am only one mortal woman.

The problem is two fold. A, I can't get rid of the children. Apparently now I've had them I've got to keep them. So, that means that b, some of the things I like to do away from the kids have got to go.

What to give up?

This has vexed me for weeks.

The writing? But I can't give that up cause I love it and it's going to make my fortune one of these days. (though I've been so shattered by my busy life I haven't even been writing that much.)

The scrapbooking? ah now no, that's my stress relief. If I can't cut up colouredy paper and attach photos to it that I just don't want to live!

The allotment? What, give up the one healthy outdoors activity I do? (Not that we've been able to get up there in six months... we grow weeds now. We're very good at it.)

Seeing friends? But I like my friends...

Pilates on a Tuesday night? Hmm, I'd happily give that up but I'm not allowed.

So, I'm stuck... what to do?

Just as fed up as her mammy

And it's important that I do. Cause I've been feeling icky. Not well. I was told by a lovely English doctor during the week that I do in fact have an ulcer. And yes, sure ulcers are caused these days by a bacteria, but the stress of my little middle class life hasn't been helping.

hmmm.

But I just can't decide!

Help!

(That was more of a rhetorical help as I know no one blogs anymore!)