Landers

Airports have always been filled with enjoyment for me. This is mainly due to my love of planes but todays airport experience has been like no other. I am, of course, ignoring my last two cancelled flights which were not enjoyable experiences! Especially given that I’d been at the airport for an hour and half the first time and thirty bleedin’ seconds the second time! One extreme to the other!



Today has shown me though that even the trip from the long stay car park (red for those of you interested) to the airport itself can also be a source of great amusement.



As I step on the bus I can hear footsteps racing along the gravel and a woman shouting “wait for us!” Which the driver, as is his want, duly ignores, closes the doors and heads off. There’s a general sigh of disappointment from some of the passengers, a titter from the man to my left and a small evil smile across my face. I might have actually joined in the sighing if it wasn’t for the fact that there was another bus parked right behind us just waiting for passengers.



Thanks to an accident right outside the main terminal entrance the bus has to stop for longer than normal while the Gardai debate who is going to move the vehicles and how. This gives the young mother next to me time to invite a conversation.



“Where you off to?” she asks.
“Birmingham,” I reply.
“I thought so,” she said, “I could tell from the accent.”



I can’t help but be amused by this as firstly I have no accent to speak of* and secondly my reply of ‘Birmingham’ was the very first time I’d spoke since getting on the bus. In fact, it’s the first thing I’ve said out loud since 7am when I said goodbye to Brad who grunted, rolled over and went back to sleep! I got more response saying goodbye to the dogs!



She appears to sense my confusion and amusement but decides to carry on talking.



“We’re off to Gatwick,” she continues thinking that I actually care.
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“Do you know they won’t carry buggies into Heathrow?”
“What?”
“Baby buggies. No airline flying into Heathrow will carry them!”
“That can’t be right.”
“No it is. I tried to book. Heathrow would be better for me so I rang the airport and they told me no airline, absolutely none, will carry a baby buggy.”
“But it’ll go in the hold.”
“Well they said no.”
“Did you ask about it going in the hold or actually on the plane with you?”
“Both.”



It’s at this point I realise I’m actually involved in this conversation and really don’t want to be. People may think I’m travelling with her! To make matters worse she then shuffles to the edge of her seat and hangs half on the chair and half into the aisle and hollers to the driver ‘are we gonna be much longer?’ to which he shouts back something about him not being able to help it and she should be sat properly. As she sits back we start moving again which start her baby off so it gets the attention rather thank me! Thank you Jeff!



Departing the bus I make my way into the terminal but get stuck behind a old lady trying to get on the travelling walkway. “Oh mom I wish you’d just taken the lift,” says her daughter.
“I can manage Janice,” she replies, “I can manage.”



The queue behind me proves she may be able to manage but the time taken would probably be better used by taking the lift.



Finally I get into the terminal and head for the shorter queue for security. Thankfully my choice is the right one – for once – and we speed through.



The hive of people around security is amazing and I purposely take my time putting my coat back on and repacking the guns and drugs so I can hear what’s going on.



One woman is having a miniature fit because she’s being told by security that they’d like to look at her umbrella in her bag.



“It’s only a brolly!” she sputters.
“Can you just take it out please madam,” says the security woman quite politely.
“If you want to look at it you take it out!”
“Do I have you permission?”
“Of course!” slams the woman.



At this point another security members joins her and just stands there saying nothing. She has the look of fire in her eyes and I can already see her reaching into her pocket for her black leather rapist gloves.



Behind me there is more commotion, again from a woman who is questioning the parentage of one of the security team as he young son stands by her slowly pushing Skittles into his pants.



Finally my things are packed away and I have a quick pokey around the shops.



I get accosted by a woman who should have retired thirty years ago as she asks me if I’d like to try the new Hugo Boss fragrance. I see the bottle she’s holding and point out that the particular fragrance she’s holding is at least ten years old so hardly new.



“You know fragrances?” she asks.
“It’s a gay thing!” I say as I wink and walk off.



Why the fuck did I wink? What was that all about? Suddenly it’s 1982 and I’m Tom Selleck!



Not able to find a suitable watch shop I head to the gate to get a coffee and write this blog entry.



As I sit here with my headphones in I’ve come to realise that the volume may be a little too loud as there is a child stood next to my table joining me in a small dance to Whitney Houston and Million Dollar Bill. I think I can be forgiven though being a big gay deaf. What I can’t be forgiven for is what came next which I’ll explain in a later.



Anyway, enough typing. My flight leaves in an hour so it’s time to go and stand at the very front of the queue and demand to be privately escorted to the plane and given my special seat at the front usually only reserved for the pilot and his mate.



*I do not sound like Frank Skinner and Julian Carey’s bastard child as was once described.

Trying to explain to my father how I know some people is often a struggle. Even more so when it’s people I’ve met off of the internet.

My friend Sam and I trained together at university but you can guarantee if I say to my dad “I’m seeing Sam tomorrow,” he’ll say “who’s Sam and where did you meet him?” When I point out who Sam is or if dad see’s her he remembers her instantly. Sadly he remember her by saying “Oh yeah, the blonde with the big moggies!” Moggies was my nan’s word for boobies!

If I say to him “I spoke to Dave last night,” he replies with “Which one is Dave again?” and the conversation continues along the lines of meeting Dave while working for a radio station but this itself brings more questions as he tries to work out which station it was and which Dave I’m talking about.

So I try to be very careful when explaining to him who I’ve been speaking to so as to try and limit the questions I’ll get asked so that I can actually get to the point of the conversation. If he asks too many questions I forget why I’m telling him I spoke to them in the first place!

You can imagine then the problems I have when trying to explain about the friends I’ve met off of the internet.

Trying to explain that I’m meeting up with people from a social networking site or a forum is incredibly difficult as he wants to know exactly how I got to know these people.

This though is the nature of friendships now. With the world getting smaller via the internet and friendships being made on an international level, having friends we’ve never met is something we’re going to have to get used to.

There are people I’ve met up with after meeting them through blogging or social forums that I’d now consider some of my closest friends. I’d go so far as to say I love them. In the same light there are some I haven’t met for real, only online, but I feel just as strongly for them as well.

My first real experience of this was using an AOL chat room. I got chatting to a girl called Adele. Adele Clee or ASClee as her screenname said. We would chat in the room or in an IM for hours about all sorts of rubbish. She told me all about the guy she was marrying and I told her all about my current beau and we compared notes and exchanged pictures. Strangely enough we never exchanged pictures of each other, just of our partners!

One Thursday night she told me she wouldn’t be about for a month or so but would email me. This was because she was getting married on Saturday and then off on her honey moon. She told me where she was getting married and I said I only lived round the corner. A small lie as it was at least a thirty minute drive away but I knew the area she was on about.

Then, totally out of the blue, she invited me and my other had to her wedding! A person I’d never met was now inviting me to her wedding! This was all very strange given that I didn’t know what she looked like. I didn’t accept outright but said I’d chat with Nick and see what we were doing. She understood.

So that night I explained to Nick about the wedding. He already knew who Adele was and had spoken to her a couple of times online himself. We talked about the idea of it and in the end decided to go.

As fate would have it traffic conspired against us and we arrived at the church more than halfway through the ceremony with a rapidly purchased gift in hand. The whole issue of a gift had bought more questions! How much do you spend on someone you’ve never met?

We decided not to go in and instead waited for them to come out. When they did we just stood in the corner of the church yard and waited until most people had said their congratulations.

Walking up to the bride I suddenly realised that I could actually be at the wrong church. Keep in mind I had no idea what she looked like, or her new husband or any of the guest and she didn’t know me either. It was the summer and most churches would have a wedding on the Saturday. This could be anybody!

Hesitantly I approached with a smile, caught her eye and just said “Adele?” She nodded and replied “Landers?” (and yes, she actually did as my screenname was my nickname which is the same as it is now!).

We hugged, chatted and explained, in truth, how we couldn’t actually stay long as Nick had been called in to work that afternoon.

After some pictures and champagne and strawberries on the village green we said our goodbyes and left.

I never spoke to her again in any form of communication and I couldn’t tell you why.

That same year I went to my first “meet” in a hotel in Blackpool where I ended up being the entertainment (a whole other blog entry) and meeting people I still chat with and care for very much. People who up until six months before the meet I couldn’t tell you anything about.

With the introduction of Facebook, Twitter, linkedin, Last.fm, blip and all the other micro-blogging or social networking sites my circle of friends has grown bigger and bigger and I’d say I was lucky if I’d met 10% of the people I chat to on a regular basis. People I call friends.

I wonder how long it will be before people are only making friends with those they’ve never met? Although it makes for an incredible international community I also think it’s quite sad future, if that’s how it’s going to pan out. I hope it’s not something I’m a part of but I know, as I sit here and write a blog entry I’m going to tweet about, that I’m helping to make the world smaller and friendship that little bit more impersonal.

There at times, believe it or not, when I’m away from my laptop. Such as during my course yesterday, if I’m on days at work or when I’m asleep. Taking that into account you can see that more often than not my laptop is either on my lap or in front of me somehow, or at the very least accessible by a walk through the mansion into another room.



Why then, with this being the case, is it that I think of so many things to blog about when I do not have the laptop? Also, why do I not make a note of these things I want to to blog about?! I’ve always got my iPhone with me, I can make notes on that but I don’t! Man, I’ve ever written blog entries on it!



With this in my I’m going to endeavour to be a better blogger. I used to love blogging, still do actually, I’ve just fallen out of the habit of writing things.



Part of me blames my lack of blogging on my old blog site. I used to use a generic blogging site, not as well known as Blogger or WordPress but still quite good. Sadly the site went downhill when certain trolls joined and when certain people I considered to be friends (some I’d met in real life and got close to) became cunts I couldn’t trust. That was the main reason for sorting out my own hosted site on my own space. At least this way I can block users, IP addresses etc. I can also post ANYTHING I like whereas the other site blocked certain things. Fuck ‘em, this is better.



So in conclusion (how very official of me!) I hereby promise to become a better blogger! So much so that I may just go and post the original blog entry on the other site, telling some of the other users what I think of them! Of course, then again, I may not.

In approximately ten hours a doctor is going to look at my head and – hopefully – book me in for lumpectomy.

I’ve had this lump for around six years now and have tried to get it seen to before but to no avail.

When we lived in Wales I went to see my doctor and he said “well I don’t know what it is so we’ll refer you to a consultant.”

‘Excellent’ I thought until three weeks later when a letter arrived.

Dear Mr. Landers,

Re: Referral from Dr. Will. C. Younow.

Having read Dr. Will. C. Younow’s referral I have decided that any work I carry out on the growth on your head will be purely cosmetic. With this in mind no consultation will take place and I’m not even going to look at it and give you an official diagnosis that it’s not a tumour or anything like that.

Please continue to worry about it growing and let me know if it causes you any pain or explodes.

Kind regards,

Mr. Misternotdoctor.

I told the doctor about the letter and he said he’d fight my corner. He rang me a week later to say he’d hand his wrists slapped for interfering and daring to question a man who is now so powerful and clever that he no longer has to use the title doctor! He said just to keep an eye on it – difficult unless I was a reptile but if I was a reptile the lump would be where one of my eyes should be! – and get in touch if it grew or caused me concern.

Well it grew. It went from the size a small pea stuck under my skin to a golf ball trying to break out the golf bag and enjoy eighteen holes. It didn’t concern me, wasn’t painful, was solid and even when stabbed with a needle it didn’t give anything out so I ignored it.

Last year I noticed it had got even bigger. So much so that I started to call it Brian and introduce it as my second head or congenital twin that I’d partially absorbed during my time in the womb. I was tempted to stick false eye lashes to it and tell people it was my third eye, it was just closed.

Doing some research about the Irish medical system – as we’d moved to Galway by this point – I found out it was going to cost in the region of €2500 to have it removed as they would probably consider it cosmetic as well. My research involved asking various people at work – nurses, doctors and clinical psychologist, house-keepers – none of whom would or could tell me what it was.

I was head-butted by one of the service users at work and saw this as the ideal opportunity to ask what it was while in the emergency department.

“It’s abnormal muscle growth,” said an american doctor who I’d seen before and had spent most of that time comparing our Jewish backgrounds with.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Well it won’t hurt but it doesn’t look nice. You should have it removed though.”

Again I was back to the €2500 and there was no way we could afford that – or that I’d be willing to pay it!

So the plan was hatched to create a lie and get some of grossly overpaid UK National Insurance back by registering with the doctor my parents use.

I registered my interest to join the practice in December 2009 and in the following March I went to see Dr. Cutebutfrenchandold.

“Well I’m not sure what it iz but it should come off oui?” he said
“I’ve been told it’s abnormal muscle growth.”
“Oui, it could be but it iz safer to get it removed oui?”
“Oui. I mean yes!”

He explained how the bigger it got the quicker it would grow basically insinuating that it would double in size every year or so. At it’s current rate of growth I’d be tilting my head to the right in six months due to the extra weight.

Dr Cutebutfrenchandold gave me a referral to a consultant who has graciously agreed to see me.

This is happening in approximately ten hours.

In my head I’m convinced he’s going to freeze it there and then and just slice it off. Brian is convinced of his demise as well and as such is growing even quicker and causing me a wondrous headache!

So I’m sat at Dublin Airport with a coffee that tastes like road scrapers mixed with urinal cake, waiting to board my flight to the UK where on arrival I will be arrested for defrauding the national health system and end up in prison. In prison they’ll be concerned about my welfare and will remove Brian for me. Either than or my cell mate Crusher Jones will do it with his makeshift knife while ass-raping me nightly.

I always look on the bright side don’t you think?

EDIT: As some of you may know the appointment never went ahead thanks to the volcanic ash from Iceland cancelling all UK outbound flights from Dublin – and eventually the whole of Ireland and then all of the UK!

Flights and hospital appointments have been rebooked and I’ll keep you informed.

Sorry for the delay in giving you the answer but I forgot!

So, remember this post? When asked you what you thought of this man?

Well personally I think he’s rather attractive. I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed other than to make coffee and/or fetch sandwiches.

Well his secret is that he used to be a she! I’ve seen quite a few post-op female-to-male transexuals but personally I think this is the most successful!

He used be an German olympian!

For more info on the lovely Balian Buschbaum (or Yvonne Buschbaum as she used to be!) take a peeky at his Wiki page or just google him!

I’d still do him!

Every year in the US the makers of Duck Tape offer a scholarship to the winner of their “Stuck at Prom” competition.

The rules are pretty simple: As couple make your prom outfit out of Duck Tape. Loads of kids take part and some of the outfits are fantastic and so well made!

The work that has gone into some of these is incredible. Below are some of the ones I like, more pictures are available on the site.

Below is my favourite. I’m very tempted to go out and buy lots and lots of duck tape and make one myself. Now, what shall I make?

DWBKHE8EWRTX

Read the story below and when told to please put yourself into Mark’s shoes. As you read think about how you’d feel, the kind of emotions you’d be going through and how you’d react. Also think about what you’d do!

Mark is in his thirties. He’s married to Caroline and has two children, a boy aged twelve and a girl aged nine. He loves his family very much. He holds down a full-time job delivering fishtanks and other such aquarium products and at the weekends (and some evenings) he helps his father-in-law on the farm.

In 2001 Mark and Caroline are given a piece of land by her father and they apply for planning permission to build a beautiful four-bedroom, two-storey house on half an acre of land. Planning permission in granted and by 2002 they have their family home. In 2005, during a conversation with Caroline’s father, they are given another piece of land with instructions to build two homes. One for them and one for Caroline’s parents. They agree and begin work on their next house with the plan being to build theirs first, move in, then begin construction of her parents home.

By early 2006 the new house is built and their old home goes on the market. Initially the house is up for sale at €399’995 and after a year it still hasn’t sold.

[Okay start putting yourself in Mark's shoes now!]

In the july of 2007, now reduced, the house still hasn’t sold and the price is reduced again to €335’000. Caroline speaks to the estate agent, behind Mark’s back, and tells them to put it on the rental market as well. There is no interest.

Come the November a young couple show an interest in the property with a view to renting and possibly buying in the future. Caroline has to tell Mark what she’s done.

Mark agrees to the rental, essentially realising that at least it’s some money coming in and the young couple might actually buy the place.

Mark and Caroline go round to meet the couple on the afternoon they move in. They explain how the couple are not to go through the estate agent for anything but come direct to them and hand over their mobile number. Caroline asks them to keep the dogs off the stairs.

Come the February of 2010 the couple inform Mark and Caroline that they intend to move out, not buying their house after all.

In the March Mark finds out that not only have the couple been letting the dogs upstairs but they’ve left marks all over the walls where pictures have been, broken a washing machine (which was replaced), left an empty oil tank and to make matters worse there is two and half years of household rubbish left in the barn out the back.

The couple had already contacted Mark and told him about the rubbish but due to the recession and unemployment they’d not be able to afford a skip for at least a month.

So what would you do? How would you react if you were Mark?

I’ll tell you how I’d react.

No.1. I’d be a bit upset about Caroline going behind my back and would probably have refused the couple the option to rent.

No.2. I’d be a bit angry about the marks left by the pictures.

No.3. I’d not really care about the dogs on the stairs.

No.4. I don’t think I’d notice the washing machine.

No.5. I’d be a bit pissed off about the lack of oil.

No.6. I’d be fucking furious at the rubbish.

Mark reacted very differently.

Mark let the rent go ahead. Never mentioned the pictures or washing machine or lack of oil. Ripped out the old carpet and laid down new.

And the rubbish? He arranged and paid for the skip and helped us move the rubbish (not by carrying bags but by getting a fuck-off hay bale and pushing the rubbish down with the tractor so we could get more rubbish in) and then stood chatting with us for a while.

Yes, we are “the couple” and Mark was our landlord. Yes, we left all the rubbish but it’s not as bad as it’s sounds. Okay so it could be but in my mind it’s not.

We had always intended to get rid of the rubbish but just never got round to it. When we first moved in Brad was working and I wasn’t and we could afford the bin service. There’s no council bin service in Ireland, you arrange and pay for it yourself. By the time I was working as well there wasn’t that much rubbish there and we started looking in to skips and a bin service. Before we could sort anything out Brad was out of work and we couldn’t afford it again. Brad has been out of work since then and we still never got round to it although we never forgot about it and if the move hadn’t have happened so quickly we’d probably have sorted it ourselves without him ever knowing.

We notice, at the back of the garage, an old fish tank. It had been there since we moved in. Today we asked him if we could buy it off him.

“Do you want a fish tank?” he said.
“Yeah,” I replied, “how much for that one?”
“Do you want a fish tank?”
“Erm… yes!”
“I’ll get you a fish tank. What size do you want?”
“As big as we can get!”
“Okay, give me a week. I’ll drop it out to your new place.”
“How much?”
“Nothing. I’ll give you a text when I’ve got it sorted. Be about a week.”

How nice is he?! For that reason alone I’m going to miss living in the old house but I LOVE our new one – and it’s going to have a fish tank in it soon!

So ladies, gay men and straight men who can appreciate the male form tell me, what do you think of this man?

If you know who he is then say nothing. Don’t try Googling him. Just take a look and tell me what you think in a comment.

Personally I think he’s rather attractive. Very much so in fact! But he has a secret. I’ll let you know what it is in a couple of days. If you know already don’t let on, I’d rather see what people think.

We’ve been in the new house nearly a month now and we’re still unpacking. Given our past record of moving it’s hardly surprising. At least this time we were a little more organised. Of course the problem with being a bit more organised at the beginning is that everything is neatly stacked in boxes still at the end. There has been no need to move things or put stuff away as it’s not causing a mess, in fact it’s almost as though it’s already away.

Obviously this won’t do but I’d rather do it slowly and put stuff in the right place than run around a for a few months afterwards moving stuff around for a second time.

After month of living here I can say we definitely made the right choice in moving. I’ll be honest and I say I wasn’t sure to start with as I did say I didn’t want to rent anymore and don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t buy a place. In the short-term we’ve made the right decision as we’re saving over €100 a month on the rent for a bigger place in a nicer area with a fantastic view.

In other news I have an appointment with a consultant on the 15th to have my lump looked at and removed. I’m affectionately calling it “the tumour” or “my second head” as no doctor (up until last week) has ever given me a definitive answer as to what it is. When the last doctor did finally tell me what it was he added “but I could be wrong” to the end of his diagnosis! How very useful! It would be removed on the 15th but at least he’ll look at it and decide when and how.

Thankfully it’s a private appointment with the consultant so it should get seen to quicker although not necessarily better.

Well that’s my news. There is other stuff but I can’t be arsed tell you about it at the moment.

I have posted this entry on an old blog but only the first sentence or two and then a “read more” link just to see how people will follow the link to here and comment. I don’t think many will which is great shame but may at least give me even more reason to close the other blog down or stop writing in it completely.

Well look at that! I’ve been away quite a while haven’t I?

Sorry. Not sure why I haven’t been around. What’s worse is that I’m not sure I care.

I guess other things in my life have taken over, maybe become more important.

As those of you who read Brad’s blog will know we’ve had some sad times recently with the loss of Jesse, Helen & MJ’s gorgeous black lab. She was only two years old and it was quite difficult to deal with. There really was no point me trying to put on a brave face because when it comes to death, especially the death of beloved animal, my brave face involves lots of crying, snot and a conversation that makes no sense in structure or sound.

I was apart from the man on Valentines day but he did me a lovely video and I’d hidden a card for him by the Love Actually DVD in our collection. We don’t buy for each other. We did the first year but haven’t since then. It was horrible being away from him on that day. I know essentially it’s just another day but I’ve always liked the fact that we’ve been together for all of them. Now that record is a little tarnished. I didn’t really have much choice though as I had to go to the UK to collect a car. A Vauxhall Vectra. It’s nice enough but I’ll only be keeping it for a few months. I really can’t be bothered going in to the why’s etc.

In other news we move house one week tomorrow. We decided that our three bedroom house really was too big for just the two of us, even if it was extremely useful when the in-laws all come over. So we decided to down-size… to a MASSIVE five bedroom mansion! My dad told me we should go for a small three up-two down place. Well we have. There are three bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs. We have four damn toilets! Only three of the toilets actually work, as I found out to my horror after I’d taken a dump in the faulty one!

Once we’re in there properly, with all our furniture, I’ll post a little video of the house, MTV Cribs-esque, so you can see it. For those of you that haven’t seen the house we’re in now you have seven days before the furniture is gone but you have until the 28th March before we give the keys back.

I’m sure I have other news but right now I need to go and get a coffee. I’ve been awake since 5.30am which is my own fault as I got drunk yesterday afternoon and was in bed by…. erm… actually I don’t know what time I was in bed. I remember Brad talking about going to bed to watch a film but I don’t actually remember getting into bed or even watching anything on the television, let alone a film. So, although the head isn’t as bad as it should be, I do desperately want a coffee.

P.S. While we move I’m off the diet but in four weeks I lost 2st 3lb. Go me!