The ramblings of Mrs. Hoolihan

My rants on life and everything in between. Desperately trying to remind myself that it's just not worth the jail time.

If I could have a word with my younger self…

I’ve been thinking about the past a lot recently (don’t worry I’m not suicidal as it does seem a little depressing having just re-read that).

I’m often told not to live in the past, but the present, but what people fail to understand is that my past and those that’re are a part of it, have shaped the present Jenny that you see today.

Today I am 36. I’m married (to an amazing chap who I thank God for every single day for sending to me) and Mummy to Harry – the light of my world and my heart.  I am what you call ‘privileged’ to have  been graced with these angels and I live a very happy and content life.

So recently I was thinking about my life and all the amazing people they’ve influenced me and it got me thinking about about all the things that as young girl I wanted to do. Working hard has enabled me to do a lot of things that I’ve always hankered after doing; I’m a grafter and I don’t believe anything should come for free, never assume you’re entitled to anything, work for it and work hard and you’ll reap the rewards. So I’m lucky (or I worked hard and gained the reward it I guess i could say).

Anyway, I’m going off on a tangent here, I was thinking about what I’d say to my younger self, if I could change things and here goes.

  1. The Spice Girls could totally pull of leopard print; Jenny your 16 year old being can’t. Ditch the leopard print girl, you’re never going to be Posh Spice.
  2. Say ‘fuck off’ way more.
  3. Say ‘no’ way more. Bollocks to being polite and trying to hold your tongue – just say no.
  4. Don’t do the degree you did because you think you’ll upset your Dad – upset him; he’ll get over it.
  5. Ask your Grandparents and Great Grandparents stuff. You only know them as ‘old’ or as ‘Nanny’ – what lives did they live before they became the person you saw them as.
  6. Dye that blonde hair; stop letting a hair colour dictate to you.
  7. Listen to the voice inside your head (I know some of you think I’m mental, I’m not trust me).
  8. Don’t date those knob ends (not all were knobs, but a good few were). Listen to your Dad when he says they’re a knob – they’re a knob.
  9. Drink more and don’t worry about your mouth running off on one after you’ve drank, afterall you’re just telling the truth.
  10. Move abroad – don’t be frightened about the ‘what ifs,’ you can always come home if you don’t like it.
  11. Be direct from a younger age; it hasn’t hindered you has it?
  12. Question everything. Nothing gained from acceptance.
  13. Step away from the blue eye shadow, you’re not in Abba Jenny.
  14. Maintain those friendships at all costs.
  15. Be proud, not arrogant – remember Jenny, there’s a fine line and you overstep it on occasion.
  16. Smile, don’t scowl so much. Your 36 year old self is cursing you for frowning so much and she’s not thankful for the prominent lines occurring as a result.
  17. Say thank you. A lot. It’s nice to be nice and appreciative.
  18. Don’t worry about being subtle as a brick. Embrace it.
  19. Don’t censor yourself.
  20. Let shit go. It’ll help you in the long run. Your 36 year old self is hating that all these later, you still harbour ill thoughts on what happened when you were 17.
  21. Give less fucks.
  22. Hug. Learn to make human contact from an earlier age – don’t be so stand offish.
  23. When someone tells you you’re intimidating, laugh at them – it’s their insecurity, not yours – refrain from excusing their behaviour like you do
  24. Find inner peace. Jenny that doesn’t mean get off your face on drugs, you’re too sensible for that, I mean, learn to be calmer quicker after you’ve been on one – trust me, it’ll help when you’re older.
  25. Remember to leave a little sparkle wherever you go; you’ll be a long time dead and you want to be rembered for being human in some capacity.


Why I blog.

Recently I was asked a really interesting question and one I was a little unprepared for.

“Why do you blog?” Bravo, good question.

I write because it’s carthatic.

I write because I love to rant and I write because I don’t give two fucks what anyone thinks.

Writing is a good way to empty one’s mind of all the shit we load into it each day. I was literally getting to a point where I thought it’d explode, so I started to dump a lot of it down into words – to get it off my chest or to simply reminisce.

I was telling someone about it and they suggested that I publish my ramblings, so I did.

I’m not looking for appreciation nor approval, I’m way too long in the tooth to a give a flying fuck about whether anyone is critical over my ramblings; for that’s exactly what they are.

Critique away if you like – a thumbs up is always a sign that I’ve made someone laugh with my innate bullshit ramblings and well, if you’re still reading this and critiquing me, then bitch, that just made you a fan.

Lovers will love, the haters will hate and I’ll still be here, spilling my mind.

Read and smile or read and mock – i couldn’t give a toss as the only opinion that’s really valid is my own!


The ‘Thunderbolt’ moment.

I’ve not really ever encountered many ‘thunderbolt’ moments in my life, but recently I had one and it hit me hard. Very hard.

Sadly I’ve come to the realisation, that the old clique of ‘A leopard never changes its spots’ is not only true, but absolutely and absurdly spot on too.

If someone doesn’t behave how you’d like them behave, then sadly, don’t waste your energy or time in trying to change them. There’s only you that will end up with a headache and a heavy heart.

I’m rather judgmental of people; I make my mind up immediately whether you’re an arsehole or not – it’s quite easy really – you’re either nice or you’re not. I’m usually right about people, but on this occasion, for once, I concede I was wrong and I’m fine that I was wrong – my pride doesn’t get in the way one bit, I’m human after-all and humans make mistakes.

The person / people in question aren’t arseholes as such before you go judging me; they are in fact,  good and decent human beings, they just lack thought and appreciation. I just thought that circumstance would change them but it hasn’t and I’m sad for them. Sad for them and sad for me. And sad for what could have been.

There’s only so much you can try before you throw the towel in and declare you can’t be arsed, but for me, there’s only this option – a leopard doesn’t change its spots. No amount of good will and positive thinking will change this, no amount of silent yelling in your head at that person and no amount of regret in your heart can either. So save yourself the headache and heartache and walk away.

So that’s what I’m doing. I’m walking away with my self respect and dignity in tact and I’ve learnt my lesson – no second, third, fourth or fifth chances; we’re done and I won’t ever make the same mistake again – in a parallel universe somewhere, all is calm, all is serene and everyone is happy…..


Are people born wankers?

Are people born wankers? Or is it a case of circumstance?

This very thought has been running around my head for some time now and I always seem to be drawn back to the one same conclusion; it’s a DNA defect and therefore, they’re born a wanker.

Wankers come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and at first encounters, they may not always exhibit wanker-like behaviour, although it always comes to light at some point and the big reveal that they’re a wanker, never comes as a surprise.

I know people who I deem to be wankers. Yes that’s a social taboo saying it about people you know, but I’ve said it, I mean it and I won’t take it back. I’m just brutally honest and well, frankly I’m past giving a proverbial shit on what anyone else has to say. At 35, having enough life experience under my belt, in my opinion, affords to be as honest as I want to be and well, if you don’t like it, don’t read my blog and huff and puff at the spillings of my mind.

I’ve just witnessed wankerish behaviour first hand and this is what’s driven me to rant and moan about wankers. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s not that I don’t really like people, I do. I just can’t see past their wankerish qualities and thinly veiled shit at times when it’s almost knocking me out and is all up in my grill.

So, what makes a wanker then?

It’s simple; you’re either a wanker or your not. I guess you can’t help being a wanker if it is indeed a genetic defect, but what you can do is lessen your wankerish behaviour. But then it leads to another question which is;

“Does one know that they’re a wanker? Or does one live in wankerish bliss?”

Quite frankly, I’m at an age where I don’t care. I can now see straight through people, I can glide through that bullshit like a knife through microwaved butter and I see people for the straight up mother fucking wankers that they are.

Word up. If you’re reading this and you’re a wanker, be less wankerish.

Better still, take a long hard look at yourself, your pathetic little existence and ask yourself one question; why be a wanker?

Everyone thought it. I just said it.

I’ve got into immense trouble over the years for saying what’s on my mind.

My comeback is always the same, “Everyone thought it, I just said it.” Which, if everyone is true to themselves, would agree whole heartedly on.

The thing I’ve learnt over the years is that, it’s ok for others to say what they like, but the minute I do, I’m cast as the uber bitch, Alexis Carrington eat your heart out. But you thought it, I always think, so what’s the big deal?

I think it’s often, not what I say, but how I say it that winds people up. I don’t go out of my way to upset people, far from it, but I will say I won’t put up with bullshit, from anyone. I think I could sniff bullshit from the moon if I was ever cast up there; it’s just so obvious and I can’t sit there nodding away like those little Churchill dogs in agreement.

My best friend Emma is exactly the same. They say if your friendship lasts longer than 7 years, you’ll be friends for life. I’ve known Emma since I was 11 so we’re basically soulmates. Anyway what makes our friendship work is our ability to sniff bullshit out. Now as adults, we’ve near on perfectionists at sniffing BS out.

At nearly 35, I’m done with appeasing people; if you piss me off, damn right I’ll tell you. A bit like the lions at the zoo, may be I should come with a warning “Keep away – says it how it is”.  Food for thought I guess.

Get a grip love. You skank.

So a serial shoplifter whose amassed a fortune in excess of £2 million, wants a job, but wait for it, won’t work for less than £36,000 – get a grip love. Or rather, do us a favour and fuck off and just die.

What is it with people today? They just want something for nothing. This ‘woman’ ( I personally prefer scrounging, thieving skank, but hey ho) has worked out that she can’t live, without earning a minimum of £36k. It should be noted that at this point, said skank is on benefits, sponging off the likes of you and me; nicking seems to be a hobby. Anyway, as always I begin to rant and divert. So she wants a job. But she doesn’t have any experience or qualifications so what I’d like to know is, just what job does she think she’s going to undertake that would pay her more than the national average in this country of £24,000??

At the moment, this skank, is sat on her backside, probably watching her 72 inch tv, decked out in Juicy Couture, eating a takeaway and all at the expense of the taxpayer – i.e me. This lazy cow won’t budge from her (and I quote) “rent free” accommodation until an employer pays her what she requests… WTF? If I were PM, i’d ensure that this skank didn’t receive one penny of her benefits until she’d proved why she actually needs them, because it seems to me that this free loader could easily get a job and stop bleeding the State dry. Which leads me to another question – who is thicker then in this case, David Cameron or this lazy skank??

Don’t get me started on David Cameron, the elitest, Eton educated, champagne swigging toff; in my eyes he’s just as bad as this low life with his inability to sort the benefits system out in this country.

I’m ranting now and I’m breathing heavily which can mean one thing only; I’m becoming agitated, so before I start writing to David personally to tell him how much more of an effective job I could carry out as PM, I’m going to put a lid on this blog.

As far the skank, listen up love, you’re seriously deluded. Go acquire some experience or gain your qualifications and then start demanding £36k. Until then, take a job – any will do frankly and stop bleeding our benefits system dry and let those who need benefits for a legitimate reason be awarded them. Lazying around in your skanky trackie isn’t a justifiable reason.

Get a grip love. Even better, get a job.

Fuck it. Fuck you. Fuck off.

“Fuck it. Fuck you. Fuck off”

Let’s be honest, we all think this. You? Maybe a couple of times a day. Me? At least 74 times a day. I’m unsure if I’m perfectly honest, but I know that I do mutter this, often under my breath, a lot.

I’m no hater; I’m not hating on anyone before you let your imagination run away with itself. Good god, no. I’m just a HUMAN BEING. A human being who is unable first and foremost and secondly, who quite frankly, is unwilling to be tolerant to other people’s BS, fuckery or general shittiness (in what ever form it may occur).

Whether it’s people generally fucking up in everyday life, on public transport (thank the good, sweet lord, I no longer have to use this, quitting my old job secured this), having to navigate around general fucktards in the supermarket, or even watching tv, I find myself muttering “Fuck it, fuck you” or “fuck off”.

Today has started off to be a shitter of a day. “Fuck it, fuck you, fuck off” springs to mind at it’s not even 9am, I woke up to an alarm this am, pitch black outside and my immediate thought was, “Why the fuck did I set my alarm for a Saturday am?” Well it’s not bastarding Saturday is it? No. It’s bloody Wednesday. “Fuck it” was my second thought of the day.

When you’ve already kicked the day off with a “fuck it” you just know it’s going to be one of those bloody days. Making the mistake of looking at Facebook a couple of minutes ago and all I could think was “fuck off”; dirty laundry once again being aired in public (so uncouth and frankly, unneeded but that’s neediness I guess for you) and so the hamster wheel cycle of everyday life continues I guess.

Before my day gets any shittier, I’m going to sit and breathe for a moment; gather my thoughts and think positively for the rest of the day – actually who am I kidding? Fuck it actually, I’m off for a chocolate bar – chocolate helps in times like these and well if you don’t like it, me or my blog or you’ve been offended in any way, you know what you can do don’t you? ( I make zero apologies for my language or directness this morning either) Fuck right off!

You’ll never like me. And I will never give a shit.

I’m like Marmite. You either love me or hate me.

A lot of people get upset when someone doesn’t like them. I don’t. In fact, I don’t give a flying shit either way – I’m not asking you to love me or hate me; you’re your own person, with your own opinion (hopefully).

There’s a lot of people I don’t like for a number of reasons. It maybe that I don’t like their attitude, or their approach to life, how they treat their husbands or wives or it may be just as simple as them being a complete and utter douche bag. There’s loads of those fuckers around. I’ve been told directly how someone doesn’t like me. Bothered, I think not. More often than not though, it’s people’s actions that give their opinion away of me. I think if you go to the effort of letting someone know that you don’t like them, you’ve got issues  as you’ve  way too much time on your hands.

Life’s too short to act like a dick. Yeah sure, think it in your head, but to carry an action out letting someone know how much you dislike them is borderline criminal. Like I said, I couldn’t give two shits if you like me or not, I’ve the skin of a rhino and a mouth of  the biggest hoe to match, combine these two and I can potentially destroy you with my words mofo. Acting like a dickhead lands you in hot water and people aren’t intelligent enough to realise this. Or maybe they’re just thick as chuff, I don’t know (nor care really).

I’ve family who don’t like me – bothered? I think not. You’re the one with the issue, not me. You’ll never like me. And I will never give a shit.

A family member rolls their eyes whenever they see me, which isn’t very often, thank god – bothered? I think not. Truthfully, I find it rather funny that a 50 plus year old can get so wound up by my sheer presence. Is it sad people don’t like me? No it’s not as I’d rather not waste my precious time and energy on people who mean so little to me. What is sad, is how it affects people who surround us.

This family member who detests me so much, was present at Mummy’s funeral and dislikes me so intensley that they couldn’t even offer a single word of condolence to me on losing her. I heard them offering their kind and sympathetic words to my Dad and brothers and sisters, but not me and I know my Dad noticed. Not that I gave a fuck, because I didn’t, I had my family to think about that day and saying good-bye to Mummy until the next time we see each other again, but the fact that my Dad picked up on it and was hurt; now that hurt like fuck.

This dumb fuck had no idea how their actions affected not me, but those closest to me and for that, I detest them.

Like I say, you’ll never like me. And I will never give a shit.

But remember one thing, once you’ve done or said something to me, there’s no going back, because once I don’t give a shit, I will never give a shit again.

Even if I had a pocketful of fucks, I still wouldn’t give you one.

Even if I had a pocketful of fucks, I still wouldn’t give you one. This rationale is simple; as the years have  gone by, I’ve gone full circle in how I view the world.

When I was younger, I held zero tolerance for people and their general fuckery. You pissed me off, that was it, we were done. Forgive and forget? Hell no. Then a series of unfortunate events led me to change my mind. With this came along a period of reflection and ultimately resulted in me reassessing life and in turn, people. I became tolerant to people’s shit. I say tolerant, this isnt strictly true. I just learnt to let people’s shit, their attitudes and their general fuckery wash over me like a wave. Forgive? Yes possibly because I thought life was too short to do anything other than forgive.

Recently, I’ve been reassessing (once again). A series of unfortunate events (out of my control, unfortunately), have led me to come full circle, once again. No longer will I tolerate shit attitudes and being treated and spoken to, like shit.

Once again hardened, by the fuckery of human beings, forgive and forget has become something that quite honestly, is unobtainable for me. The problem lies with me you see, for being stupid. I was stupid enough to think that human beings could be tolerant towards each other.

Whether it’s in your personal life, work life or generally being a human being, I’ve learnt that people can be horrible, vicious and destructive creatures. Regardless of whether they’re trying to destroy your relationship, sabotage your career path or generally being a dick everyday, people prove that they really can display their best presentation of  what fuckery is.

No longer tolerant of shit, I’ve decided fuck it, those human beings who can’t prove themselves to be decent people, can fuck right off. Those who can behave like decent humans, I’ll continue to move heaven and earth for. But let’s make one thing clear here, forgive and forget is longer an option – once you’ve crossed me, that’s it, your card’s marked and then you fall into my category of “Even if I had a pocketful of fucks, I still wouldn’t give you one.”

Once you’ve fallen into the category of “Even if I had a pocketful of fucks, I still wouldn’t give you one” you’re not leaving it. No amount of apologising (if you’re decent enough to recognise your behaviour) will change my mind. Just like the devil, you’ll be banished from my consciousness, forever. I may have to deal with you in some capacities, but in essence you’ve fucked it.

Before any mofo thinks about crossing me in any capacity of my life, they may wish to think about the consequences of their actions because this human being is taking no shit, once again – gone is the nice girl and it’s safe to say that resting bitch face has returned.

Just remember, cross my path in the wrong direction and you’ll be straight in the “Even if I had a pocketful of fucks, I still wouldn’t give you one” category and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself when you realise what a momentous prick you’ve made of yourself.

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