Air punching dreams, or, I Love You Ireland

That Hillary Clinton's got balls, I'll give her that much. You've got to say something for a woman who can appear to spontaneously rock a line like "I'm with Harry Truman on this: if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Just speaking for myself, I'm comfortable in the kitchen."

She is just so disliked, though. Just about anything you'll ever read about her anywhere is grudging, written through gritted typing fingers. I think this democrat race is all about good cop/bad cop. Obama is the black, sticky out eared, earnest naive. Hillary's the hard-bitten, ballsy professionally political one who could have him in a fist fight, no problem.

It's the classic bitchfight between the sweet young thing and the pro, the virgin and the whore. So everyone's getting their end away with the whore, but they're really rooting for the virgin for the four year long haul. Hillary's such an inveterate politician, it's hard to even look at her sometimes. The whole Obama showboat could easily go tits-up but you know, that version would probably be more interesting in the big picture of American evolution.

Sometimes metaphors run into each other like they're long lost lovers meeting unexpectedly in different cars at the bumpers. Let's move swiftly along.

Isn't it amazing when people of advanced age manage to carry around grudges, bitternesses and score settling? Takes a lot of very tight clutching to keep that dynamic going for so long. Anyway, here's a man who has sold a lot of records, made a lot of money, played a lot of tennis, and he's demanding trophies from the eurofuckingvision song contest 40 years ago.

This article reminded me of a Cliff Richard impersonator who approached me when I was singing and playing in the street in Copenhagen. I think he was trying to be some kind of impressario. He must have been in his mid fifties, but clearly Cliff, and reflected Cliff glory, were the dominating forces in his life. Beware of what you opportune for.

I'm always amazed by what people are willing to do to win the eurovision. Brian Kennedy, for instance (I can't even link to it, it's so terrible. 2006, it was). Somebody recently pointed out to me that it's all about money and exposure, naturally enough.

But not in some cases, clearly. Sometimes it's just about air punching in a white suit. Our Rocky Balboa. It's nine minutes, but worth it for the detail and the textures and the old style eurovision scoring board with less than 20 countries on it. Song starts 7 minutes in. It was 1980, right in the middle of a decades long recession in Ireland. This was glamour. Had U2 hit yet? This was perhaps our first taste of national fame and sexiness... Say what you want about the kitch and the glory, but the two Shay Healy/Johnny Logans were good quality eurovision songs, at a time in the life of Ireland when the Eurovision meant something more than turkeys and american idol-style competitions. It was the time of fizzle sticks and flogs and a 51% tax rate. Ah.

Ultimately, of course it turned into this. People have to earn a living, it's true, but it hurts to link to this. I add this link, purely in the interests of balance.

So now this brings me to the subject of the First Inaugural Competition Olympics 2008 (check out the label Competition Olympics to familiarise yourself with Olympian history). Beijing is a little controversial at the moment, but you know you can get your air punching kicks right here on Lucy Takes Off, and Be a Winner, have a garland put around your head by a smiling girl in a bikini, stand on a plinth marked 1, a little higher than the plinths marked 2 and 3 (though glory is also assured for first and second runners up also), and have your national anthem blasted from a ghetto blaster (on tape if you so choose) and your gold medal/cup presented to you by a minor Irish Rockstar of my choosing... This is the prize on offer in the Competition Olympics, my friends. So far there have been three legs of the competition, with three entrants in total. What we need here is exposure.

Maybe I need to take the Competition Olympics to the Eurovision. Where is it this year, anyway?

The Competition Olympics Leg Three

You might have lost faith in my ability to follow through on the promises of the Competition Olympics, fuelled also by the distinct lack of entrants. What could be the reason for the lack of forthcoming participants? Shyness? Indifference? Feeling that it couldn't possibly be YOU standing there on that plinth, having a garland placed around your neck by a lovely bikini clad lady, and given a cup to hold aloft in honour of your great triumphant fortune (with your preferred national anthem played on a very robust ghetto blaster in the background)? That that scenario is too delicious to be claimed by little old you? Is that what you think? Well, Little, let me tell you that your repressed fantasies are ripening.

Welcome to Competition Olympics, Leg Three.

I would like to clarify also that I do seem to be something of a Glamorous International Traveller, so this ceremony can really be conducted anywhere. The judge's decision is, however, Impartial and Final. She is kind, though. But a laugh is much more likely to sway her decision than a Really Profound Idea.

So, folks. Leg three. Here it is.. ya da da daa da daaa daaaaaaaaaaaa:

I can't seem to find my pink gingham Bathing Suit (Betty Grable style) nor my funky jazz chick scarlet velvet hat.. This is to be my costume for the Prize Giving Ceremony of The First Inaugural Competition Olympics. If you can guess where in the world they could possibly be, and I find them there, First Prize is yours. First and second runner-up prizes will also benefit from close proximity to the Bathing Suit, but will have medals and flower garlands, instead of The Cup of Glory (and only the winner of the First Prize will have their national anthem played, and know that all the canned applause and adoration is Only For Them.

Please be specific, and creative. Countries alone will simply not do (though you might have noticed that you have many to choose from. Even before I began blogging this summer, I have been travelling a LOT this year). We need a specific location, town or city at least, and preferably the way the Bathing Suit and Funky Hat are placed, if they're hiding, how they got there, details will be lovingly appreciated.

And remember, if you're not in, you can't win.

That Kind of Day

I'm trying to think of a joke. This is the kind of evening that requires a joke and a bottle of beer. Of course I would ask you to kindly post jokes in the comments section, if I had a comments section. It disappeared in the night. There is some anti-Competition Olympics troll prowling around the internet, and I want to make it clear RIGHT NOW that YOU ARE MESSING WITH THE WRONG OLYMPIAN HERE, ye little fecker. Hmm.. a joke a joke my kingdom for a joke. Nothing comes to mind, except a bunch of very very very dodgy jokes I heard last night which are of the kind only repeatable in small hushed groups.

I do have some news about my parents' forthcoming Majorca holiday. Mum has bought some snorkel sets in Dunnes so they can put their heads in the water and still breathe and the fish apparently swim all around you. They are very excited about their holiday.

I am, too.

Anyone got a guitar? Lets have a sing-song. The wind is blowing and the night is cold and you can feel autumn in the air today.

Competition Olympics Prizes for Winners

Ok, lets turn up the temperature a little on this one. There's gonna be prizes for the outright winner of each leg of the Inaugural Honorary LUCYTAKESOFF Competition Olympics 2007. I would like to clarify that these individual-round prizes will NOT be presented on a plinth with garlands and a cup to hold aloft in pride and achievement, but are merely teasers, you might call them, to string you along and get you entering. Good lord. Racy.

When we have completed all the legs of the Inaugural Honorary LUCYTAKESOFF Competition Olympics 2007, then and only then will all the names be put into a hat and drawn from a drum that goes round and round by an air hostess with a blindfold on, and the winning names read out over a microphone in some kind of a live webcast by a minor Irish rockstar. Flashing discolights might also feature. And the plinths, garlands, medals, bathing suit etc. bit you already know from previous posts.

This week's prize:

drumroll drumroll drumroll drumroll

A set of five vhs copies of Simpsons Featurettes, or perhaps they're Simpsons Thematic Treasuries, each about 88 minutes long, which I found on a stoop at 6th avenue and President Street in Park Slope, this evening. Here's the rub, though. You'll have to watch them with me, because I don't have a video player and I'd love to see them. But I'm saying it now, ladies and gentlemen, I will NOT be wearing a bathing suit for the screening.

So far, the lovely Constance is in Pole Position as the ONLY entrant in the competition. And for all of you who have recently started reading the blog, dig deep to at least a week ago, there's another competition, which was Leg One of this prestigious and highly unusual Olympic variety, which is still open, though another New Yorker, the lovely Chris, is in a similar Pole Position there.

I wish you the best of luck.

"LUCYTAKESOFF is the only blog for me at the end of a hard day, because ... " in words ten or less. Post in the comments section of the original post please.

I've heard ugly rumours that the comments section is a gmail or blogger account-only zone or someshit by Blogger. I do hope this ain't so, and will be investigating whatthefuck.

Good lord, I've got a dirty mouth this evening. Just come back from the spelling bee at Freddy's Backroom tonight.

It's got to be that.

Competition Olympics, Leg 2

Do you remember the days when tayto crisp wrappers and teabag boxes had competitions on them? You'd answer some cryptic question about cheese and onion flavours and then you'd have to come up with a really good way to finish the sentence "I love Tayto Crisps because..." or "Lyons Blend is the only one for me because..." in less than ten words. Many of us tried, and just couldn't summon up the creative genius for the project. It was our Waterloo.

Some people were really good at it. They won cars and holidays in Majorca. Their children became copywriters.

Of course, at that time, there were no copywriters in Ireland. There were competitions for slogans on the back of Cornflake boxes. The whole country was full of amateur enthusiastic copywriters hoping to get a free car or holiday in a time when Ireland was not the fourth wealthiest country on the planet.

Others, and this flavour is definitely in the general air in Ireland, wrote any old shit in blue biro and saved their tokens, sending them in with the cheery expectation that "if you're not in, you can't win". I love this aspect of Irish consciousness. It really gives the country its character. It's the same kind of spirit that will see my parents donning their wings to go and swim in the hotel pool in Majorca later this month.

My mum is in her fifties and my dad is in his sixties and there they'll be, swimming around happy as larry in their wings. They're becoming stronger swimmers with each sun holiday they take, I think. And they didn't win their holiday from a teabag box. They paid good money to get out of the rainy Irish summer for a week or so. May it shine on the island of Majorca that week.

Clearly my opening competition was too much for you, because there has been only one guess posted in the tumbleweed zone that is my comments section. Well it's just a good job I'm not crippled by a need to be popular, is all I can say.

So here's another competition. It will be combined with the first and maybe further ones, and we're gonna have winners dammit! I repeat: there's going to be three plinths, one high one in the middle with the number ONE on it, and two lower down ones saying 2 and 3, like the trains that take me out of here. There will be flower garlands, medals and I may well don a bathing suit to present the thing, should such a need arise.

Drumroll drumroll drumroll drumroll

Complete the following sentence in ten words or less:

"Lucy Takes Off is the only blog for me at the end of a hard day, because..."

Bated breath. Arched toes.

The Competitions Olympics Leg One

A very attractive prize and certificate of authenticity will be awarded in a public ceremony involving flowers, a medal, a plinth to stand on and a cup to hold aloft to the first one to guess the following song correctly.

Further plinths and garlands will be available for those who give the second and third best guesses.

All guesses are welcome, please post in the comments section.

Now listen carefully folks :

(intro) Doo be doo be doo be doo be doo be doo dee do
doo be doo be doo be doo be doo de doo de doo dedo

(main theme) Da da da da da daaaaaaaa
da da da da da daaaa dida da.
(boom schika ka boom schika ka)
Da da da da da daaaaaaaa
da da da da da daaaa dida da.

Shoo d'n doo da daaa da!
Shoo de dompety doo doo da doo d'n di'n da...
da dee da dee
da dee da da
shoopy doopy dada hehe wat'n wah wah

Shoo d'n doo da daaa da!
Shoo de dompety doo doo da doo d'n di'n da...
da dee da dee
da dee da da
shoopy doopy dada hehe wat'n wah wah