waider: (Default)
Diageo (that'd be the guys who own Guinness) announce a €24m "global centre of excellence for beer research". I think you'll find that's usually referred to as "a pub".
waider: (Default)
Wow. My favourite publicans' representative group has declared a freeze on the price of drink for the next year, effective immediately. I'm sure there's a fast one being pulled here somewhere, because I am naturually cynical and suspicious of these clowns, but hey, nice move.
waider: (Default)
Right now I'm sitting in the local, stealing Wi-Fi from someone who neglected to change their WEP key from the default setting (perhaps deliberately; who knows?), typing this with my portable keyboard into my Palm Tungsten and enjoying a tasty Guinness.

If only I were writing a bestselling piece of fiction; then I could truly say, "I feel all Warren Ellis-like"..
waider: (Default)
I joke occasionally about how my "secret superpower" is learning the names of barstaff in ridiculously short periods of time. This isn't wholly accurate, but it's a useful shorthand. The truer version is that I seem to have the knack of very quickly establishing a rapport with serving staff of any sort. My less frequently mentioned and less useful superpower is making acquaintances (and sometimes friends) with people who are due to leave the country, usually with no intention of returning, and this more often than not combines with the rapport thing. So, for example, there's Colin, who on my first night in the local followed our motely crew to another bar to return a forgotten jumper, and at one point considered moving into a house with me, only to opt instead to leave town to join the Army; there's Jamie - the best barman ever - who went home to China a few years back; Graeme who decided that Oz was his thing; an assortment of eastern European barstaff who, ultimately, figured they'd stay in Ireland just long enough to get enough cash to settle comfortably back home; and most recently, coffee house guy - who, proving the truth of the name-vs-rapport comment above, I do not in fact know the name of - telling me shortly after I'd established myself as a regular that he's scoping out places outside Ireland to set up the rest of his life in.

This evening I figured I'd have a quiet Sunday beer or two, and noticed a new barmaid in the local (they've had a Staff Wanted sign out for most of the week). Before I left the bar she'd introduced herself, I'd noted an American accent (to myself), and so in keeping with past experience I fully expect her to have relocated back to the US in short order.
waider: (Default)
forgot about this, and remembered it walking to work this morning: while in the pub on Saturday evening, a scotsman named Robbie insisted that I sounded "Canadian or some sort of North American" despite my equally insistent, er, insistence that I'm Irish. How peculiar.
waider: (Default)
"See you later"
"If you do, send me home."
waider: (Default)
How many of you had a 78-year-old woman recite her favourite poem to you this evening, during the course of a conversation about books, literature, and the lost art of reading?

relativity

Nov. 2nd, 2006 01:04 am
waider: (Default)
It may be a good night when the bar owner is buying you drinks, but it's equally a good night when the barman is offering you drinks an hour after closing last orders. Yay knowing barstaff! (with props to Ruadhrí on account of being the knowledgeable person)

indicator

Oct. 2nd, 2006 05:02 pm
waider: (Default)
I guess it's a good night out if the owner of the bar is buying you drinks.
waider: (Default)
and I already 0wn3d one of the Irish bars. Go me.

(note that I usually avoid Irish bars like the plague they are, with very few exceptions, but I was stumped for somewhere I actually wanted to spend time drinking)
waider: (Default)
So we're standing around outside Pravda after they've done kicking us out (because it's closing, as opposed to anything else) and Zoe, whose birthday it is, decides she wants her photo taken sitting on the bench with the statues of the two shoppers. While we're there taking snaps, some completely random girl stands up on the bench behind the statues and lifts her top to flash us - just as two cops walk around the corner. We wander off giggling as the cops proceed (I assume) to discuss the Irish legislature with the girl, paying particular attention to the areas of public drunkenness and indecent exposure.

No, I didn't. I'd just taken my photo right before the, er, reveal.
waider: (Default)
It's a sad enough to realise that the stories I usually end up telling in a bar are the same ones as I've told everyone else before (the time I couldn't play Lou's guitar, the time we stole the giant pint, the time the cat ate a sock, and so forth) but what's worse is realising these stories are several years old and, well, there's nothing to replace them.
waider: (Default)
Someone was refused drink at my local last night. A young-ish girl (I'm thinking early twenties at best) who was obviously intoxicated when she arrived at the bar at about ten thirty or so - talking in an annoyingly loud voice to friends standing next to her and enunciating with the excessive caution of the I'm-not-really-drunk-honest. She was with friends who bought the first few rounds, not out of trying to protect their friend from evil barstaff but simply because it was their turn at the bar. I know this much because one of them crowded up to the bar next to where I was sitting and her bag bounced off my elbow as she turned around. But when the subject of this tale approached the bar herself some time after eleven the barman politely declined to serve her on the grounds that she'd "had enough already".

I did giggle somewhat at the schadenfreude, then went back to my awful Bill Hicks bio.
waider: (Default)
I'm not much of a soccer fan: I'll watch Ireland play more often than not, and I like a game that displays skill rather than a hack-and-chop game. But last night, I don't think there was a single person in the bar ignoring the last twenty minutes of the Brazil - France match. It was an astounding display of skill, marred only slightly by a few theatrical dives.
waider: (Default)
So look, despite my annual PSA and what not I am generally not ill-disposed towards confused Am*r*c*n tourists looking for their ancestors and what not. But this evening in the pub, a local girl who is in fact Scottish was putting on a Texas accent and affecting a great deal of "I'm Irish" in order to put off some hapless drunken paddy. How I didn't fall off my barstool laughing I have no idea. Paddy O'Suitor was sufficiently drunk as to not notice when the accent dropped, either, causing further hilarity on my part.

farewell

Jan. 19th, 2006 01:20 am
waider: (Default)
so tonight we had the surprise party for Jamie, best.barman.evar. He's headed back to China and we'll probably not see him again for a long time, if at all. Cheers, Jamie, yer the best.

Also, for reasons I can not possibly understand, 11:30pm closing did not take effect until about 1am, explaining the lateness of this post.
waider: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] waider Um. Streaker in the pub.
[livejournal.com profile] waidesworld Your bar?
[livejournal.com profile] waider Nope
[livejournal.com profile] waidesworld Where?
[livejournal.com profile] waider Macgruders
[livejournal.com profile] waidesworld They have streakers now?
[livejournal.com profile] waider Yes very posh these days
[livejournal.com profile] waidesworld Man or woman?
[livejournal.com profile] waider Man. cold man.

The funnier part was that the streaker, having been barred for his activites, returned, leapt up on the bar, and was spanked on the arse by the barman before jumping back onto the floor and running out the door. Much amusement.

Winnings

Oct. 14th, 2005 12:23 am
waider: (Default)

Winnings
Originally uploaded by Waider.
We came second in the pub quiz. This is my share of the winnings. That's Paul in the purple shirt in the background, and the Gato Negro box apparently housed some of the wine.
waider: (Default)
I ended up watching the match in Messrs, as I left it a little too late to get a DART home and ran into the Lansdowne-bound crowds who had Tara Street backed up almost to the doors. A barman recognised me and asked a few polite "haven't seen you in ages" sort of questions, and then allowed as how he'd plugged the bar into Google and my name came up.

wtf?

Jul. 31st, 2005 06:05 pm
waider: (Default)
Apparently we're, like, totally the best karaoke singers ever. Yeesh. Almost as embarrassing as winning the Eurovision several years in a row.

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