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NiftyFiftyShades

~ Failed Domestic Goddess

NiftyFiftyShades

Tag Archives: Drink

What Your Water Says About You

14 Thursday Jul 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Drink, food, Health, Humour, lifestyle, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Drink, funny, helath, water

imageIf only I lived as a North Korean peasant in the presence of Kim Jung Un. The special one has discovered a new treatment to prevent aging and cancer – water. Water from the sacred Mt Koryong. And the benevolent leader has bottled it for his 27 million subjects to buy.

If like me, you like your water infused with rose petals and oxygen, collected from the tears of water nymphs, regurgitated by the Dalai Lama himself and spit into a bottle, then the following might interest you.

imageAccording to Nth Korean scientists “There are nano-tracks in human’s cell membrane and only smaller molecule water can pass it. Such water is absorbed rapidly into human body to promote metabolism of cells and works as antioxidant to prevent the accumulation of peroxides, retard aging and prevent cancer.”

And the water is indeed sacred, there is a never ending supply. According to reports “Geologists and management officials of the spring water factory have not yet measured the exact volume of water. However, much they pump the water, it never diminishes.”

Its claimed that is has mysterious energies, and cleverly nicknamed ‘clear water’. I suppose ‘murky water’ wouldn’t do.

I suspect Kim himself told his scientists to find the cure for cancer or else face a cruel tortuous death. Low and behold, there it was starting them in the face.. water..

What your choice of water says about you.

imageCoconut Water :– You are a hypochondriac totally taken in by the hype. You’re never more than 5 ft. from a yoga mat and you firmly believe that drinking coconut water will allow you to remain in a Downward Dog position when you’ve passed the 100 year mark. You don’t really like the taste, but that’s the price of being a smug health freak.

Fiji Water :- You like taking selfies of your gym body, you never pass a glass without checking your reflection to confirm that you still have it.

Tap water :- Tap water ceased to be acceptable in 1989. You are obviously very very old….

imageSmart Water:- You’re not that smart but you like to show everyone that you’re tech savvy. You believe the junk science behind electrolytes that replenish lost energy. You want to know what the Ph balance is but don’t understand what it means.

 

Evian :- An acceptable choice for a domestic Goddess. It has the ‘Je ne sais quoi’ factor. Would do if San Pellegrino not available.

imageSan Pellegrino:- Sweet nectar of the Gods.  Lets be clear, this is not merely a bottle of water but an accessory, and we all live by the old adage “Accessories doth mak’eth the woman”. Your Chloe handbag is just the right size for carrying it but you’d rather keep it in your hand.

 

 

imageLidlAldi own brand:- You are the intellectual superior to everyone. You know it makes sense, it’s functional, cheaper and of equal quality to Evian and you can bulk buy when doing your grocery shop. You actually understand the junk science about electrolytes in water. You think Louis Vouton plays for Arsenal and your idea of a perfect holiday is a potholing expedition in Donegal.

Tipperary Spring :- You are a country bumpkin. You prefer a night by the fire knitting Aran jumpers to a night on the tiles.

Water Fountain: – Your homeless, but hey, you have the edge on everyone else, you’re drinking free clean water…

Tap Dancing School - 'We only use tap water.'

Tap Dancing School – ‘We only use tap water.’

Paddy’s Day and All That Malarkey

12 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Drink, Humour, lifestyle, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Drink, family, parenting

image.jpegAhh!! St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin

A grand occasion, despite the proliferation of teenagers dressed as leprechauns and green pints of Guinness.

image.jpegWhen I was ten, St Patrick was a hero, the reason we had a day off school. The only downside was that it was a holy day of obligation which meant mass was required.

 

It would all kick off a few days beforehand with the annual festival of destroying the sitting room sofa with glue and green paint.  The St.Patrick’s day badge would have to be made, along with flags, bunting and fairy cakes with green icing. All a waste of time as the home made cardboard badge would be cast aside. A tacky foil badge would have to be bought in its place.

 

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Not only was it a break from the clutches of The Little Sisters of Psychological Warfare, it was also a welcome reprieve from the torture of lent, where you gave up sweets for 40 days and 40 nights. On St. Patrick’s day you were allowed take a day off and indulge in as much sugary crap you had accumulated in your stash since the start of Lent on Ash Wednesday.

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The day before, we would be sent out into the garden with a fork from the cutlery drawer to find the elusive shamrock. You might find one single shamrock leaf but dig up a huge sod to extract it from the ground. The muddy shamrock sod would be brought in and left soaking in a dish of water to keep the roots moist. The shamrock was for my Dad, who was to be pitied as he was clearly too old to wear a badge.

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The morning of St Patricks day, all set for mass, I’d insist on my Dad pinning the mucky soggy shamrock sod to his lapels, ruining his good Sunday jacket.

imageThe parade was pretty sad by today’s standards.  A procession of floats from local businesses and brass bands but the party atmosphere was always the draw.   Somehow we’d  manage to wiggle your way up to the front to get a look at the American cheerleaders who we thought were beyond fabulous.  I would feel so sorry for them with their dazzling white smiles, freezing their butts off in star spangled outfits which showed way too much leg for our Artic temperatures. We were toasty in our newly knitted Aran sweaters.

image.jpegThis tradition, I repeated with my own kids when they were small, including sending them into the garden to find the shamrock. (I didn’t knit new Aran jumpers for them, even I’m not that perfect. My mother, their grandmother did).

imageIn fairness, they kept their side of the bargain with the desecration of the sitting room sofa, and the destruction of the kitchen with green gunge.

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In recent years, rather than negotiate the throngs at the parade, I head to Merrion Square to watch the floats setting up. It’s become a much grander affair, with spectacular fireworks, the river Liffey turns green, jigs  and reels in Merrion Square and amusement rides to entertain the masses. Pubs are packed to the gills, throngs spilling out into the streets where you’re guaranteed to have ‘the craic’.

 

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Let’s Pretend it’s Summer

09 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Beauty, food, Humour, lifestyle, Midlife, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Drink, funny, midlife, Summer, women

 

 

image.jpegLets Pretend it’s Summer

If raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens don’t do it for you, try one of my favourite things to put a spring in your step.

imagePretend it’s Summer. Living on an island where it rains for 365 days a year, any respite from the grey clouds, any glimpse of blue sky must be celebrated by stepping out and making the most of it. If by some freak of nature, we manage to get a couple of sunny days in the ‘Summer’ as a nation we join in the fun and frolics talking endlessly about picnics and sunburn. Sales of shorts and sun tops soar regardless of the fact that you will only get to wear them once.

 

imageEver the optimist, I recommend that you do a I do, join in the frenzy of buying barbeques, straw hats, beach umbrellas, factor 50 sun screen. If by the time you arrive home with your treasures the sun has disappeared (which is highly likely) you may have to play the lets pretend game. Follow these instructions and I guarantee satisfaction. You will be transported from your dull cloudy day to a tropical South Seas beach.

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Switch on the central heating and parade around the house in shorts and flip-flops as you would on a rare sweltering July day. The beauty of this is that you can try this any time of year. March is the perfect time as by now you’re sick to death of the endless days of deluge.

imageGet out your old Wham records and sing along to Club Tropicana.

Relax on your sun lounger(which you’ve brought indoors).

 

Browse holiday brochures while waiting on fake tan to dry

 

 

 

imageSip homemade lemonade, suck on a cool pop or better still, have Himself bring you a Pimms on Ice. I find the alcohol encourages enthusiastic participation in this little role play.

 

 

 

imageWhile lounging back, have Your loved one (dressed in a toga obviously) drop grapes into your mouth.

Complain about the stifling heat, as it wouldn’t be real if we didn’t complain about something.

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Get some sand from the beach and place it in a icing sugar shaker. When you are eating your sandwiches, shake a little sand over them for that authentic crunchy taste you only get on a beach picnic.

imageComplain about the sand in your sandwiches.

Burn a few coconut scented candles to add a tropical feel to your little beach hideaway.

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If by this time you haven’t embraced your inner beach Goddess, finish the bottle of Pimms, that should transport you to another dimension.

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Dry January

01 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Drink, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Drink, family, fitness, funny, Midlife crisis, women

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I’m signing up for dry January, just to see if I can do it. I reckon my blood is 90 % proof at the moment anyway, enough to to see me through a month at least.
First thing I need to do is clear out all the booze lying around the house. We had a New Year’s Eve family gathering, everyone bringing more booze than they consumed, which resulted in doubling the amount of available alcohol. Looking at the sheer quantity of leftover booze is strangely strengthening my resolve to stick to it. If I don’t get rid of it I know that I’ll be the one consuming the majority of the leftovers.

Day one alcohol free is just about over. Doddle so far, but that’s only because I poisoned myself with it the night before and the misery of feeling hungover is fresh in my mind.  Wait til day 3, then we’ll know if I cut the mustard.  Will I mourn that glass of wine that has the power to lift me above the dreary humdrum of the daily grind. I don’t mind weekdays as I generally don’t partake anyway (most of the time) but is it possible to watch say Graham Norton without a glass of Sauvignon Blank to keep him company?  It would be rude not to. Problem is I inevitably polish off the  entire feckin bottle.
I need to come up with a plan to distract me from such thoughts. I will focus on the end result. I will emerge from this trial fitter, skinnier, richer, more energised, ready to face 2016 a nicer, better person with a shiny new liver. Yes, think FUTURE SKINNY BITCH

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I find a large crate into which I put six bottles of prosecco, two cava, bottle of vintage port, Bacardi, 2 red and three white wines, 24 bottles of beer. I get Himself to dispatch it to the darkest corner of the garage, a place I never venture into.  As I watch him make his way down the garden path I almost call out “Come back, I was only messin”.  But I don’t, I see the light.  The stash is now safely out of sight. I’m not crazy enough to actually throw it out. Fuck that, February isn’t dry!.  

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Read about my failings as I muddle through midlife

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