03/04/2004

***The*Lucy*Aughney*Newsletter***

SIGH! That, for all of you who have never experienced it, was a virtual sigh. Feel the puff of air washing over your from the computer screen? No? Your Sigh software must not be correctly installed then.

**Letters*to*the*editor**

Lucy, is it only a coincidence that your newsletters only start up around the time when you SHOULD be studying for your exams?!

Marie Connolly, scarily astute young woman

Your newsletter is so cool, I thought you were cool before but now...wow! By the way, what does fellatio mean?

Aishling McIntyre, flatmate and newest recruit to the Lucy Aughney fanzine, oops, newsletter!

Gosh you're having a lot for dinner, you must be really hungry!

Emma D'Arcy, flatmate eile. Shut up, sh*thead.

When is she going to shut up about her f**king history lecturer?

Entire readership of newsletter, communicated subconsciously.

**Dealing*with*the*younger*generation**

The desire to astonish and be astonished is very proper.

Salon of 1859: The Modern Public and Photography, Charles Baudelaire

I have recently discovered there is a limit to my knowledge of the world. Passing the time of day with my seventeen-year old cousin at a frankly excruciating family gathering, I was suddenly struck with a desire to impress her impressionable young mind.

'I live in Dublin, you know.' I said in an offhand manner to indicate how terrifically aimless and careless the life of a student is.
'Yeah, its a sh*thole, isn't it?' she chuckled jocularly.
Crap, I thought, she's got me on the run.
'I was up there last weekend', she went on. 'With my band. We were busking with some mates.' What the f*ck? This child was cooler than I was.
'Really? That's great. What do you play? I play the tin whistle you know' I said in a desperate attempt to regain some territory.
'Wow' she said nodding. 'That's cool.'
'Well, not really you know, all I can play is Danny Boy.' I hurried to amend. 'And Mary had a little lamb'.
Dig, dig, dig.
'Well, you know those are the...eh, classics.' she said, nodding vehemently.
I could not believe it. Was this child mocking me?
'I play guitar.' she added, getting a grip on her sudden fit of giggles.
This I felt at home with. I knew guitars. I knew that acoustic were the woodeny ones that students have and that Marie has been threatening to buy for the last three years, and that electric were the colouredy ones that had to be plugged in. Sorted. My maturity and worldly knowledge would finally triumph.

'Bass guitar' she said.
Ah crap, what the hell is that?!


**Horrible*things*people*say*to*me**

Meeting my enchanting young Wexford friend Claire today for a wee snackola, I was frankly stunned to hear her greet me with; 'God you looked wrecked, were you out or something?'

Bleating my excuses (Its the flush of love! Its the stress of exams! Its because I stayed up late watching Boogie Nights on TG4 waiting for yer man to get his lad out!) which she duly ignored, she went on 'God, you sound terrible too- have you got a cold or something? Are you sick? you look sick!'

Instead of protesting by pointing out that I am an extremely stressed final year student with better things to be doing than looking good, and anyway, looking good was a most grievous form of female oppression, damn the man, I succumbed. 'Yeah I know.' I sighed. 'Its just, well... im really depressed cos Paradise Hotel wasn't on last night.'

'There, there' she comforted as I sobbed on her shoulder. 'Dont worry, no one watched that stupid soccer match anyway.'

'But Claire,' I looked up at her with red eyes. 'What about Charla and Dave? Why cant those two kids just get it on? Theyre so right for each other!'

'I know sweetheart, I know' she said, nodding sadly in agreement.

**Talkin*bout*a*revolution**

This morning the refill pads I purchased turned out to have blue margins instead of the customary red ones! Good grief, what will they think of next?! Also I bought a black pen, put it in my pocket, and now there are two. Do they breed? What is up with the universe?! And in addition, I just did the pullability test the lovely Ms Hynes just sent me and I am only 15% pullable as a girl, but 51% pullable as a boy! A scary thought...

**Word*of*the*Day!**
Retromingent
Definition: To urinate backwards (adj.)
Usage: As term of admiration or scorn, depending on your point of view(and which direction you're facing).

**Aimless*ramblings*also*known*as*lucy*cant*think*how*to*end*this*thing**

One monkey don't stop the show, so get on board.

One Monkey, Gillian Welch

Is anyone getting bored of me yet? Cos I am. Why doesn't anyone tell me to cop myself on and do some work? Does nobody CARE that Im going to fail my finals? FINISH IT! What song is that from? God, Im sad.

25/03/2004

****THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER****

To all of you who attended my fabulous birthday celebrations last weekend and brought a present, I thank you. And I promise to spend all my birthday money in a frivolous and feckless manner, in tribute to the lighthearted twenty- year old I once was. To all of you who came out but did not bring presents, I say, the excuse of the postal strike can only last so long. And to all of you scum suckers who neither came out, sent a present OR shared saliva with me in the name of birthday kissing, I scorn you. Ha! A plague on all your houses!

If you would like this plague removed, you may do so by presenting me with a belated birthday gift, specifically the one thing I asked EVERYONE for yet did not receive yet: bed socks.

**female*dog*of*a*day**

I didn't think it was physically possible, but this both blows and sucks.

Bart Simpson, The Simpsons

Wow I had a bad day today. Really, really bad. Like The Sweetest Thing bad. First of all, i got up. Bad move. Then I was a wee bit late for first lecture, which is in yer woman's office and had to go find a chair and no body would move to let me in... So we didn't start well. Then I found out about having to do extra classes cos we haven't finished the course yet... and we have a test in two weeks...and an essay i didn't know about for next week, all in the space of the first fifteen minutes, so it was really escalating rapidly. You've got to admire the speed of it all, really.

Then I went to the library to work on my CV which depressed me for many reasons:
a) computers hate me and keep deleting my work
b) I cant spell
c) I have no marketable skills
d) I don't really want a job
e) none of my teachers got back to me so its still not finished cos cant put down any references

Then after fannying about with computers all morning, I went to my English lecture which was extremely depressing because I haven't read the book yet, or any on the course in fact, which is a wee bit of a downer when your exams start in four weeks. After that I had a boring Irish Revolution lecture that went on too long and was late for my English tutorial which...

... wasn't in the place it was supposed to be in cos yer woman was sick and another teacher was taking it and it was all on close reading for the exams and we did this Seamus Heaney poem about folding bedsheets from the washing line with his mother, and this A**HOLE thought it had sexual connotations and it was really about being in bed with a lover and then this other asshole started talking about images it cast in her screwed-up mind involving Seamus Heaney naked and playing in the sheets and I was just sitting there going: 'Dear God; I am surrounded by idiots.'

And the worst thing is the one giving the tutorial was pretty sound and said clever stuff and the whole way through i was thinking why isn't SHE my tutor all the time, then I wouldn't be in physical pain every Thursday afternoon while that other FOOL of a tutor I normally have is bullsh*tting on about stupid crap and laughing her stupid laugh and looking at me like I have mental difficulties cos im not laughing too.

And then when we were leaving the tutorial this girl, whose name is Fanny (no, really) started talking about Bleak House and I made my joke about being lost in the lectures cos I had listened to it on tape and it was abridged, ho ho! and all the rest of them were on the stairs behind me, silent. No laughter, not a titter (load of tits though, ha ha). Just looking at me like I was insane. Which I obviously am.

So, I headed off to my history lecturer's office to ask HIM to give me a reference and he wasnt there and I was just like, leaning against the door, knocking away going; 'Why me?' and then Linda bloody Martin's stupid Eurovision song got stuck in my head for the next two hours.

You may think, Gee, Lucy sure is overdramatising this a lot! So she has a lot of work to do, and everybody thinks she's a fool and nobody likes her and shell never get a job or a reference even, so what?!!

**lucy*f**ks*up**

I've said it once before but it bears repeating...

Fell in Love with a Boy, Joss Stone

Wow, whole lotta asterisks there! And in Gaul in the second century BC, ho ho! Gettit? Not content at having the worst day of my life today, I sealed my fate romantically by disgracing myself in front of the love of my life on Tuesday, that's right, my dear, dear history lecturer! Chatting amiably about such intellectual matters as Footballer's Wives and how many calories in a contraband can of coke (coke is banned in our college; did you know that?) with my fellow students in hip UCD hangout, Hilpers cafe, I decided to perform my renowned (not really) impression of my English seminar leader (whose name I will suppress as I have asked him for a reference).

[By the way, can I draw everyone's attention to my overuse of parentheses in the last paragraph? Parentheses is a posh way of saying 'brackets', by the way.]

Throwing myself into my comic role with aplomb, I slouched back in my seat, spread my legs like I was hung like a donkey, stuck my fingers into my belt loops, threw out my stomach defiantly and growled menacingly out of the corner of my snarling lips. Reckless, Lucy, reckless.

At this point in my little rendition, I usually pause for laughs, but laughter came there none. Joanne kicked me sharply under the table.

'Lucy! There he is!'

To my horror, my beloved swaggered by, with nary a glance to my prostrate form. I gaped as he strode away, a paper cup of coffee clutched in his manly, yet tender, hands. What new torment is this?! Must I always be doing something stupid when he's around??!!

Going on my track record of invariably doing stupid things all the time, i'd have to say yes.

**Did*you*know?**

Lala lala la- warm it up,Lala lala la- the boys are waiting...

Milkshake, Kellis

Did you know that Milkshake by Kellis is not that innocent tune you thought it was, extolling the joys of a delicious ice-cold milk drink, but is in fact a disgusting, porno song promoting fellatio? I didn't. I almost didn't know what fellatio was for a minute there either, but I found out!

Ah, the wonders of a university education!

15/12/2004

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

The greatest gift theyll get this year is Lurrrve

Feed the World, Band Aid

Unlike starving people in Africa, you lucky readers are receiving the greatest gift of all this Christmas- Yes! That's right! A special seasonal edition of my newsletter! You lucky devils!

**Christmas Gift Ideas**

Many people have asked me; 'Lucy what can i get my nearest and dearest this Christmas?!' And i would like to tell you all now that a subscription to this very publication would be an extremely wise choice. For just €29.99 your favoured one can receive this very newsletter whenever it is published! Unfortunately, the likeliness of the esteemed editor finding the time to actually write anything is slim as she is currently concluding her course of study at that esteemed institution, University College Dublin, and will soon be on the lookout for a job, a husband, and a little house to settle down in. But hey, its being part of the gang that matters, right?

The editor would like to point out that she would be very receptive to anyone offering her a job, a house or a husband as Christmas gifts. Nicely wrapped, naturally.

**Return of the King**

Ah, tis that time of year again, the time when we can all celebrate the magic of Christmas by viewing the latest installment of J.R.R. Tolkien's masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings. This year, if you have been in a coma since August, the thrilling conclusion to the triply- thrilling trilogy is being released, The Return of the King. The date for this theatrical debut is Dec 17, which the attentive amongst you may recall is the same day as St Patricks Day. Except its in December. And if you cant celebrate Christmas by watching a film glorifying violence and powerful black magic, featuring the schizophrenic Gollum/ Smeagol, the cross- dressing princess Eowyn and the wedding of King Aragorn and his 800- odd year old bride, Arwen(oops! Plot spoilers!); well, then what kind of person ARE you???!!

**Retraction**

I cant think about anything else festive to write about anymore, im not a very christmassy person. Im just going to do what I do best; bitch about stuff. Is that ok?

**Lucy Fucks Up**

There is an old phrase that says 'pride comes before a fall' but I have found through detailed and painstaking (read: painful) research that in fact, large unseen objects and slippy or uneven road surfaces are a lot more likely to cause a topple. In a whopping 99% of cases fallees suffered a fall due to causes other than the awkward appearance of pride. ( The 1% refers to an unfortunate incident involving a group of lions.) In my case however, statistics go out the window. Because the single greatest cause of my downfall this year has been... stairs. Try as I might, I just cant seem to maneuver these tricky bastards.

16.37 on December 15th 2003 is a case in point. Frolicking joyfully through the college on the completion of my English essay I decided to pay a visit to the library to return the six fearsome books that have been haunting my desk and nightmares for the last month. Having dropped off my books at the returns desk, I fancied a meander through the fiction shelves to pleasure my terribly intellectual and fiercely misunderstood side. With the delight reminiscent of Mr. Mandela being released from prison, I sprung happily up the escalator, which I would like to point out in advance is constructed of malevolently uneven steps. I think we can all see where this is going. But for the slow amongst you(Hi Marie!), i'll spell it out; I fell over. And not just over. Down. And over.

Hoping to evince some sympathy from my fellow passengers on the ESCALATOR OF HELL I let out a storm of curses and then a bashful giggle. No response. 'Shut up you stupid culchie and stop falling over' their cruel D4 eyes said. And so I spent the next ten minutes wandering through the shelves slapping my head. I'll have to stick around up here till the librarians change shifts; I dont want them to think i'm uncool. Oh dear god, I must have hit my head in that fall.

Im worried that LIBRARIANS will think IM UNCOOL!!!

**Sidekick**

But I cant find no place or nothin' where thrills are cheap and love is divine.

Dusty, Kings of Leon

Seriously, I need a sidekick. Since the departure of my loyal companion Ms Marie Connolly from UCD (through no fault of her own, may I point out; the glandular fever she had in sixth year in lingering terribly long) I have felt increasingly alone. Without Marie around there is no one to talk to, no one to share my deepest thoughts and fears with, no one to tidy up after me. Instead, I am forced to wander the pathways of life alone, righting wrongs as I find them. If you have read this far you will now be wondering what the fuck I am talking about. What relevance does that quote at the top have? What are we doing here?!! Nothing, my friend, nothing at all. Ah, the wearisome emptiness of life.

**Making the world a better place one UCD student at a time**

Much Madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye
Much sense the starkest Madness
Tis the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent and you are Sane:
Demur,- You're straightaway dangerous
And handled with a Chain
Emily Dickinson

Due to the situation and reputation of my college I am forced to come into contact with a load of assholes on numerous occasions. Now I sound like a gay male prostitute or a colonic irrigation practitioner but I was in fact speaking metaphorically. A great number of these cerebrally challenged people are in my English tutorial. I think I was placed in their midst to give a good example. The first tutorial of the year was particularly excruciating. Not content with giving me an English tutor whose first language is Italian and is so bizarre she would shine at Hogwarts (School of Witchcraft and Wizardry people, get on board!), the English dept. thought it would be excellent fun if we all introduced ourselves and explained our love of the English language.

No, seriously.

After the rest of the group got finished explaining their devotion to literature and more than one asshole had admitted to knocking off the odd poem independently, Wanda (pronounced 'Vanda') got around to me. 'Yes?' she burbled.

A pause. 'My name's Lucy' I said. At this point I was unwilling to give much away.

Sensing she had a difficult customer on her hands, she prompted; 'And what do you love?'

Trying to atone for my bad manners, I attempted to lighten the mood. 'Well, obviously I love talking about myself!' I said with a wry smile.

Did anyone ever tell you that irony doesn't work on foreigners? Doesn't work on UCD English students either. Maybe its because they are so self consciously ironic already. The entire room continued to stare stonily at me while Wanda nodded encouragingly.

'Never mind' I muttered as she moved on to the JYA student to my right. And that, my friends, will teach you never to try to be funny when there's a UCD student around. They just don't get funny.

13/05/2004

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

*News in brief!*

*Mags O'Neill sprains ankle! Considered out of the running to represent Ireland in the next Olympics!
*Marie Connolly announces that if she fails her exams, it will be 'all my own fault'. As opposed to all Lucy's fault because she only manged to get you out of the bed for half of your lectures all year!
*Editor's sister reveals intended outfit for disco! Editor declares 'Youre not going out like that!' Editor's sister responds with 'Fuck off back up to Dublin!' Turbulant times ahead.
*Lucy declares intention to study! Doesnt happen!
*Other stuff happens! Nobody cares cos its not mentioned in Lucy's newsletter!

**Quoth the raven; 'Never More'**

As of 5.32pm this afternoon I am no longer a second year student at University College Dublin. Now, I am a third year.Yes, my friends i am finished forever. Well, except for next year, but as Johnny Logan himself says; whats another year? My final exam was a bit of a moment of insanity (more like three hours of insanity), not particularly helped by a last minute chat with my good bud Meabh about the exam in question;

MEABH: Yeah, im glad i prepared those two back up topics anyway.
LUCY: Back up? Topics? Prepare? I think ive lost you.

The mood was considerably lightened when halfway though some wanker broke his chair and fell off. How we laughed. I laughed a little too long and a little too maelevolently though, i fear. In fact, i am still laughing. Har har.

Now that I am back in the land of the little people, ie. Youse (as they say in Wexford), i am planning to purchase for myself a thesaurus to supplement my word power. The following words have become somewhat overused in my exams.

Political Recognise Trend Accordingly
Social Centralise Development MonetarilyReligious Urbanize Consequentially SubsequentlyEconomic Modernize Paradoxically Realise Socialize Obstensibly and Celibite

Also, have just noticed that I cant spell. Fuck that. I have just worked out that i have written eighteen essays over the last two weeks. Fucking hell, im clever.

**What*would*Dr*Forlano*do?

For all of those of you who are weak of mind (that would be all of you), I have been on the look out for a role model for you to aspire to, when I am not around. I have found that person in the manly frame of Dr.Luke Forlano, Surgical consult. at All Saints hospital. Now, All Saints is a programme on TV3 which just happens to be the greatest thing in the world (All Saints, not TV3).

Do not be alarmed when i tell you it is set in Austrailia- Austrialians have feelings too you know. Dr Forlano is a particurlarly stress prone individual. He is forever getting grief from the older surgeons who think hes not up to the job. His intense view of life is obvious as he stalks up and down the corridors of ward 17, wearing coloured shirts and no tie. Ties are for old men. Also he has a red sports car, a brother in jail AND an earing. COOL or what.

Challenge: Your mother asks you what you intend doing for the rest of your life if you dont intend to do a postgrad. Mother is annoyingly persistant in her questioning.
Dr Forlano's Solution: Order a complete set of a labs, a CAT scan, call psych. and test her urine for drugs. This woman is not well.

Challenge: Your father wonders how you could possibly have spent all your money already, since there is no chance youre going out drinking during your exams. Is there?
Dr Forlano's Solution: This man is gone into arrest, get the crash cart in here! Shock him repeatedly until you regain normal cardiac rythyms. Or not.

Challenge: Your exams are over and youre dead bored cos no one elses are.
Dr Forlano's Solution: Have a tempestuous love affair with a fiesty nurse. Break up cos youre too scared to commit. Experience unrequeited love for another nurse. Reconsider life options.

Oops, Dr Forlano let us down on that last one! Well, his name is Martin in real life, were all human.

**Lucy*Fucks*Up*

It was one of those days. First, the ATM wouldnt give me any money so i had to beat up an old lady to get some. Then I lost Marie in the supermarket and had to put her in the little seat in the fornt of the trolley so she wouldnt run off again. And then, just when the good looking and tall for his age scout packing bags at the checkout handed me my shopping, didnt I knock over his little plastic bucket where he was collecting for tents or a new leg for a child or something.

'Whoa!' he said with a laugh. 'Youre trying to do a runner with our cash, are ya?'
'Ha ha!' I laughed weakly. And then I did run away. Weeping. And slapping my head in a vaguely concussive manner.

**Word*Of*The*Day**

'Study'
The process of learning about a subject by reading, thought, intuition or research. No, I dont get it either.

**Non-patriotic*peoples**

Last Sunday Ms Claire King had the AUDACITY to speak at length about her voyages abroad this coming summer. Oh, i pretended to be interested but all I could think was the cheek, the brazenness, the cockiness of this non- patriotic person. I have tried and tried but i cannot come to terms with those disgusting layabouts who think they can just head off on a trip abroad whenever the mood takes them. And to make matters worse, they are nearly all of them poxy students! What is wrong with our fair Isle that you must leave it whenever you get a few weeks off school? What is lacking in our picturesque hometown of Tramore (by-the-sea) that you must look for satisfaction elsewhere? Nothing, I tell you! I am proud to be Irish and will stay that way, at least until after the Eurovision on Saturday!

**Open*Invitation**

I am officially inviting all of you lovely people to a major fiesta in my lovely Dublin abode this coming Thursday. Please come. No, seriously, come. The two Claires we live with have invited about 15million people and I have invited ...none. Oh, you cant expect much from Marie, she doesnt have any friends anyway, but me? I was so desperate today i nearly asked my invigilator; 'Can i have another rough work page and would you like to go to a party on Thursday?'

So, if any of ye are in the area on Thursday (or even in the country), drop into 121 Merrion Grove, Stillorgan rd, Dublin 4 for a drink and a quick mention to the girls we live with that we are really cool. (see the 4 at the end of my address? Thats cool, that is.)

26/03/2004

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

See the new fonts I employ from time to time? See, here I have capitilised all the letters in the heading which I feel is very innovative and original. Innovation does not come for free however. And you wondered what you were paying for! (Im paying for this crap? you say)

Many people have approached me with the same whiny question on their lips: 'When are your writing your next newsletter, Lucy?'
'When Im good and ready dickhead!' I reply, sweeping my simpering inquisitor from my path with a vicious kick.

And so I must admit, I have been biding my time so as to make my eventual return all the more triumphant and glorious.

So here it is, glory in an email. And you thought that Simpsons one was good...

**Letters*to*the*editor**

Superheros cant be doctors.
Marie Connolly in a direct statement that will surely be contradicted by med student and soon to be superhero, Eavan McGovern

One day, on my way home from school, i felt a presence on the road beside me! A ghostly presence!
Pathetic Loser in my English class

I met Leo and were getting married!
Pathetic loser called Eavan McGovern

**Spectacular*Spectacular!**

Yes, the weekend just passed was that soon to be national holiday, Lucy's birthday. St Patricks day is just a cover, twas me who really got rid of the snakes from Ireland, you havent seen Celia in a while have you? Well, for all of you less adhesive friends who couldnt find the time to attend, it was the best night of my life! EVER! Even getting asked for ID repeatedly couldnt spoil my enjoyment of the evening. My mother telling me that I should stop drinking so much now I was 20 could though. Being older I can now appreciate the true quality of life, the gradual but continious slipping by of the days, the important things. And Im more mature. I coped surprisingly well with only recieving four birthday cards on Friday. I had stopped crying by Saturday.

**Romantic*encounters**

I wanna spread the news, that if feels this good getting used, oh you just keep on using me- until you use me up.
Use Me, Bill Withers

Increased security concerns at Edinburgh International Airport due to either the war in the Middle East or else just the presence of my family in the vicinity, security staff have become extra vigilint regarding the searching of outbound travellers. Which is the reason the metal detector lady gave me for the the brisk pat down she gave me last Wednesday. I didnt find it too upsetting but she was a wee bit flushed on completion. I attract admirers wherever i go.

**adventures*in*cyber*space**

'We don't want to conquer the cosmos, we simply want to extend the boundaries of earth to the frontiers of the cosmos.'
Solaris, Stanislaw Lem

The internet, i think we can all agree, was a pretty good invention of mine. It all started one wet afternoon in spring of '92 when there was nothing on the Den. Since then its come on in leaps and bounds and im pretty damn proud of it I can tell you. I am very glad to announce that Mr Tomas Breen with an address in Limerick (!) has been so good to allow little old me on to his smashing website. I havent recieved any information regarding my commission yet, but im sure its in the post (as are all my brithday cards i expect). Please do spare a moment from you busy day and attend, the thrilling shot of Donna's eyebrow is worth the trip alone.

**Ken*Smith*sighting!!**

The usually casually dressed Mr Ken Smith was spotted in HMV Grafton st a few weeks ago wearing something that looked suspiciously like a suit. Struck dumb and physicaly stunned by his appearance, our intrepid reporter failed to persue him out of the shop but upon later application Ms Grainne Walsh explained that Mr Smith is in town on business. I think we can safely draw from this that Ken was in our nation's fine capital checking up on his drug and whoring interests. Either that or a court date. He is from Limerick after all. This information has been confirmed by the fact that Mr Smith was hovering with an unnerving concentration over the Charlotte Church rack. Evil!

**Marie*Fucks*Up**
Marie is a f**king loon. Seriously. What follows is a complete transcrpit of a conversation I had with her on Sunday night, following my viewing of Spiderman. Really.

LUCY: Right, I have a question for ya.
MARIE: Right.
LUCY: Ok, what superhero would you most like to be- Superman, Batman, Spiderman or the incredible Hulk.
MARIE:Ew. Superman.
LUCY: What?! Why?! Superman is f**king gay!
MARIE: You say that to Lois Lane then.
LUCY: Hmm, ok- what power- if you were Spiderman now- what power would you most like-
MARIE: Errr...
LUCY: Right- Spidey sense of danger, Super human strength, lightening fast reflexes, web- slinging action or ability to climb up buildings.
MARIE: Oh. The reflex one.
LUCY: What? Why would you want that, that sucks.
MARIE: Well, what would you pick then?
LUCY: Hello, ability to climb up walls! Of course!
MARIE: Why, 'of course'?
LUCY: Cos its the f**king coolest of course, loser! Are you mental?! Why would you want the reflex one?
MARIE: So you could catch stuff if they fell over, like.
LUCY: ...? Right, heres one more- Who was the coolest Batman; Micheal Keaton, Val Kilmer or George Clooney?
MARIE: Val Kilmer
LUCY: -WHAT! Did you not hear me say 'George Clooney'???!!
MARIE: Yeh, so I like Val Kilmer, hes sexy.
LUCY: F**KING GEORGE CLOONEY WOMAN!
MARIE: Yeh, so, he was in ER like- a doctor cant be Batman.
LUCY: YOU F**KING LOON!
MARIE: Shut up.
LUCY: You shut up.

**Lucy*has*weird*dream*about*killing*spree!**

Dont really know what this means but if dreams actually do predict the future, you all might want to start saving so that ye can all club togetherto post my bail. (except those of you I intend killing of course...)

09/01/2003

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

I have just been visited by Dr Suess' Cat in the hat. Well, thats what it called itself anyway. It kinda looked like a load of astericks but I wouldnt be an expert on cats or their apparal. Allegedly if I send it on to everyone in my address book my wish will come true.

I was going to do just that but two things stopped me. The first was the undoubtable wave of hatred that would be directed towards me if I sent that lovely little piece of mail on to a load of people (smile; it was almost you) and the second is that I could not think of a wish. Am I completely happy, I hear you cry. And i'd have to answer; yes. Look at everything I've got going for me! Physical advanatges aside, I'm a lucky chica.

I mean I get to live three of the lovliest girls in the world, and one of them is my best bud Marie who sleeps two feet away from me! How lucky can you be? And the four of us always do fun stuff together- for example, last night we had a great game of 'robbing-Lucy's-bedsheets-and-hiding-them'. No you cant get it from Hasbro, we made it up ourselves. And then, when the fun of that was over we had a quick game of 'bouncy-castle-on-Lucy's-bed-while-shes-in- it'. Oh, i really love that one.

Just when you think you might be getting bored and want to go to sleep, we all have a fun two hour conversation till well into the wee hours of the morning about absolutely nothing! Its mad! I was a bit of a dry shite last night though; i must confess. I kept wanting to go to sleep and end the games before they were properly over.

Boring old me!

*Lucy*fucks*up*

Today was going grand, i was helping doing stock taking at work in the bookshop and, ok, i was after fucking up a whole set of calculations and we had to start again but hey! it was fun! The problems started when Anthony came over to help me fix my calculater when i'd dropped it on the
floor.
'So, are you, like in college?' he said, passing the time.
'Yep' i replied eagerly. 'I'm doing arts in UCD. English and History.'
'Roight' he said (hes a bit posh) 'Oh, James Joyce!'
'Ah no actually' I said and went on to explain that we had down Joyce last year but I hadnt like him that much. I then gave him a critical breakdown of Joyce's 'Dubliners', finishing by saying I had thought 'Portrait of the artist' was a filthy book and hadnt read the ending out of disgust.

'Roight' he said again, looking bewildered 'I just meant he went there, didnt he?'

I hate people like me.

*Beauty*corner*

The heading 'beauty corner' is very untrue as beauty does not occupy only a corner of my life but all of it. In the words of a better man than I (since I am not a man at all), 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty'. Ahhh.

This week I have been enjoying the benefits of a box of dye which has altered my hair colour to 'deepish darkish brown' or something of the like. I am now a glossy, raven haired beauty, as many people have told me. I was somewhat at odds over the comments i got last saturday night. One acquaintence responded to me shaking my glossy mane with; 'Wow you look like Arwen from Lord of the Rings'.
This i liked, very much. I did not appreciate another comment that went 'your hair smells like a swimming pool'. That i was a little perturbed by.

*word*of*the*day*
'dearth'
A scarcity or lack of something
eg: There is sad dearth of intelligent life in my household.

*How*to*Look*stupid*without*really*trying*

It is a very valauble skill to be able to appear stupid when one feels like it. Not only the obvious pity and money you will acquire from looking stupid (everyone feels sorry for stupid people), you can also avoid lenghty jail sentences when a jury thinks you too dumb looking to be able to plan and carry out multiple crimes of a devious and brilliant nature.

Unfortunately, since I am obviously a highly intelligent person and know nothing at all about looking stupid, I had to delagate the writing of this piece to Marie. She is unfortunately unavailable tonight, so you shall all have to figure out how to look stupid on your own. I'm sure you can manage it.

04/01/2004

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

Well, the new year is upon us and I am heading back to school with a tranquil mind after three weeks peaceful sojurn in lovely Tramore. During the Christmas holidays I spent many afternoon reading, staring out to sea and pondering the direction of my life. Not for me, the pointless cylcle of drinking and dancing that my lesser human beings preferred. I instead stayed in and nurtured my reclusive tendencies. Even my family claim I've become distant. Thankfully, they added. I have also discovered my feminine side. It is my left one.

As you can see, my sense of humour has become very advanced over the holidays. I do not expect any of YOU to understand it, dear readers, and much of what I say may go over your heads. Try to keep up.

*The*evil*and*worrying*power*of*technolgy*

If youve lost your faith in love and music, oh the end wont be long!

'Vertigo', The Libertines

I am very disappointed to note that technology has become an evil and alienating force. Technological apliances have become malevolent and obstinate, cruelly requiring an impossible knowledge of their workings before functioning. Pour example: I recently purchased a snazzy looking cd discman. I was very proud of said discman on bus on the way home except I kept calling it a walkman and my sister had to point out that it a walkman was for tapes, and anyway tapes dont exist anymore do they? They do, i replied indignantly. (Do they?)

Imagine my horror and dismay when upon arriving at home and inserting batteries into it, it refused to work! Disappointed but not broken i resolved to return to Argos and demand exchange at earliest possible moment. Earliest possible moment turned out to be, unfortunately, the first day of the sales and was forced to queue for an hour and a half waiting for cd player. Also my companions were forced to wait with me. These companions included roommate Clare who was a little peeved to be spending only afternoon in Waterford queueing in Argos; also young gentleman Joshua Kirby who was surprisingly content to sit in Argos for so long. His mother however was not. I am sorry to say that the usually dignified Lynne Kirby and her friend Ruth Finnerty were extremly rude and impatient. I am shocked at Lynne in particular- she is usually so quiet and poite.

I am embarrassed to recount the events after this. In short I was sitting at home, disgusted that the replacment cd player wasnt working either and complaining to all that would listen that technology was an awful con, when my sister's friend leaned over and pointed out that I had to turn it on for it to work. Ah, said I. Why dont they tell you that?

**Happy*new*year!**
You aint no friend of mine, you aint no kin of mine- what makes you think I wont run up on you with a knife?
'Wanksta', 50 cent

While many of you might have been out pouring money into the bulging tills of unscrupulous publicans this New Years, i chose to remain at home and get drunk alone. At ten past twelve I looked at my watch and realised- oh!- had missed midnight. Was i heartbroken? Of course not. Instead I watched Britney: Live in Vegas and sniggered to myslef when I spotted a pimple on her neck. My sister came in then and we agreed that it was bleeding. Ew. That Britney one is disgusting.

*word*of*the*day*

'Zephyr'
Soft or gentle breeze as seen in The Zephyr Song by Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

'Fly away on my zephyr, I need you more than ever, and in the perfect weather we'll find a place together'

*Marie*Fucks*up*

Actual conversation recorded in cinema on Thursday night last at viewing of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers:

Marie: Why are they mad at this Gondor guy? Isnt he the one who got the king out of the spell? Lucy: Ahh... Gondor is a place. Its a big kingdom like.
Marie: Well, who's the guy with the white beard then?
Lucy: GanDALF.
Marie: ....?
Lucy: He was in the first film, dya remember? The wizard?
Marie: Well, what does the other wizard want off the small lads?
Lucy: Eh, Saruman dya mean? He thinks they have the ring.
Marie: And thats it?
Lucy: Eh... yes. The ring.
Marie: All for a ring? Why's he killing everyone for a RING?
Lucy: Well, its a magic ring you know. Do you even know what this film is called?

*How*to*look*clever*without*actually*becoming*clever*

The appearance of cleverness is not assigned solely to those lucky glasses wearing folk; you non- blind people can also attain an air of enviable intelligence just by employing a few simple methods. Though having a pair of glasses is always a boost to ones appearance of intelligence (As I tell Marie every morning as she puts her contacts in), it is very possible to look clever without them.
Squinting- The appearance of shortsightedness is always desirable, the perfect squint is an essential part of any clever persons disguise. To achieve this, narrow your eyes and lean forward slightly, peering closely at the object/text in question. If you are feeling a little bit under the weather, do not attempt the squint as you may squint a little too much and close your eyes fully, inducing a sleep, which is not a sign of cleverness.

Furrowing of Brow- This is pretty much an extention of the squint but if you persist at furrowing your brow for a few hours each day you will end up with deep permanent furrows in your forehead by age thirty, and lend you an air of painfully won intelleigence. Your mother was right about the wind changing.

Pursing of Lips- This action can be exchanged for the biting of the lower lip to achieve a pleasing expression of tense and nervous intelligence. The biting of the upper lip should be avoided as one's forehead adopts a worryingly simianlike appearance which is not a particularly attractive expression. Unless you want to look like a monkey.

Talking to oneself- this action is borderline and should not be attempted unless you are very sure of your clever reputation. Appearing intelligent should not be confused with looking odd, though it may seem that clever people are indeed odd. If you must talk to yourself, insure that topics of conversation is kept to literary or academic subjects- discussing the weather or the mating habits of ducks may be considered unusual. Insure that you monoploize the conversation, because if you start talking back to yourself or disagreeing loudly with yourself in public, you will have crossed the line most terribly.

04/01/2004

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

Well, the new year is upon us and I am heading back to school with a tranquil mind after three weeks peaceful sojurn in lovely Tramore. During the Christmas holidays I spent many afternoon reading, staring out to sea and pondering the direction of my life. Not for me, the pointless cylcle of drinking and dancing that my lesser human beings preferred. I instead stayed in and nurtured my reclusive tendencies. Even my family claim I've become distant. Thankfully, they added. I have also discovered my feminine side. It is my left one.

As you can see, my sense of humour has become very advanced over the holidays. I do not expect any of YOU to understand it, dear readers, and much of what I say may go over your heads. Try to keep up.

*The*evil*and*worrying*power*of*technolgy*

If youve lost your faith in love and music, oh the end wont be long!

'Vertigo', The Libertines

I am very disappointed to note that technology has become an evil and alienating force. Technological apliances have become malevolent and obstinate, cruelly requiring an impossible knowledge of their workings before functioning. Pour example: I recently purchased a snazzy looking cd discman. I was very proud of said discman on bus on the way home except I kept calling it a walkman and my sister had to point out that it a walkman was for tapes, and anyway tapes dont exist anymore do they? They do, i replied indignantly. (Do they?)

Imagine my horror and dismay when upon arriving at home and inserting batteries into it, it refused to work! Disappointed but not broken i resolved to return to Argos and demand exchange at earliest possible moment. Earliest possible moment turned out to be, unfortunately, the first day of the sales and was forced to queue for an hour and a half waiting for cd player. Also my companions were forced to wait with me. These companions included roommate Clare who was a little peeved to be spending only afternoon in Waterford queueing in Argos; also young gentleman Joshua Kirby who was surprisingly content to sit in Argos for so long. His mother however was not. I am sorry to say that the usually dignified Lynne Kirby and her friend Ruth Finnerty were extremly rude and impatient. I am shocked at Lynne in particular- she is usually so quiet and poite.

I am embarrassed to recount the events after this. In short I was sitting at home, disgusted that the replacment cd player wasnt working either and complaining to all that would listen that technology was an awful con, when my sister's friend leaned over and pointed out that I had to turn it on for it to work. Ah, said I. Why dont they tell you that?

**Happy*new*year!**
You aint no friend of mine, you aint no kin of mine- what makes you think I wont run up on you with a knife?
'Wanksta', 50 cent

While many of you might have been out pouring money into the bulging tills of unscrupulous publicans this New Years, i chose to remain at home and get drunk alone. At ten past twelve I looked at my watch and realised- oh!- had missed midnight. Was i heartbroken? Of course not. Instead I watched Britney: Live in Vegas and sniggered to myslef when I spotted a pimple on her neck. My sister came in then and we agreed that it was bleeding. Ew. That Britney one is disgusting.

*word*of*the*day*

'Zephyr'
Soft or gentle breeze as seen in The Zephyr Song by Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

'Fly away on my zephyr, I need you more than ever, and in the perfect weather we'll find a place together'

*Marie*Fucks*up*

Actual conversation recorded in cinema on Thursday night last at viewing of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers:

Marie: Why are they mad at this Gondor guy? Isnt he the one who got the king out of the spell? Lucy: Ahh... Gondor is a place. Its a big kingdom like.
Marie: Well, who's the guy with the white beard then?
Lucy: GanDALF.
Marie: ....?
Lucy: He was in the first film, dya remember? The wizard?
Marie: Well, what does the other wizard want off the small lads?
Lucy: Eh, Saruman dya mean? He thinks they have the ring.
Marie: And thats it?
Lucy: Eh... yes. The ring.
Marie: All for a ring? Why's he killing everyone for a RING?
Lucy: Well, its a magic ring you know. Do you even know what this film is called?

*How*to*look*clever*without*actually*becoming*clever*

The appearance of cleverness is not assigned solely to those lucky glasses wearing folk; you non- blind people can also attain an air of enviable intelligence just by employing a few simple methods. Though having a pair of glasses is always a boost to ones appearance of intelligence (As I tell Marie every morning as she puts her contacts in), it is very possible to look clever without them.
Squinting- The appearance of shortsightedness is always desirable, the perfect squint is an essential part of any clever persons disguise. To achieve this, narrow your eyes and lean forward slightly, peering closely at the object/text in question. If you are feeling a little bit under the weather, do not attempt the squint as you may squint a little too much and close your eyes fully, inducing a sleep, which is not a sign of cleverness.

Furrowing of Brow- This is pretty much an extention of the squint but if you persist at furrowing your brow for a few hours each day you will end up with deep permanent furrows in your forehead by age thirty, and lend you an air of painfully won intelleigence. Your mother was right about the wind changing.

Pursing of Lips- This action can be exchanged for the biting of the lower lip to achieve a pleasing expression of tense and nervous intelligence. The biting of the upper lip should be avoided as one's forehead adopts a worryingly simianlike appearance which is not a particularly attractive expression. Unless you want to look like a monkey.

Talking to oneself- this action is borderline and should not be attempted unless you are very sure of your clever reputation. Appearing intelligent should not be confused with looking odd, though it may seem that clever people are indeed odd. If you must talk to yourself, insure that topics of conversation is kept to literary or academic subjects- discussing the weather or the mating habits of ducks may be considered unusual. Insure that you monoploize the conversation, because if you start talking back to yourself or disagreeing loudly with yourself in public, you will have crossed the line most terribly.

19/12/2002

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

Am I not getting something here? I was up in Dublin ALL weekend, (am still here, as it happens) and I recieved not one text message/ phone call from anxious friends requesting my whereabouts. Do you not want me out every Saturday? Am I... unloved? (unthinkable, I know) All stinking term I send you ungrateful wretches the most heavenly entertaining correspondence via email and come the weekend, a weekend VERY close to Christmas may I add, no one requires my spectacular presence on a night out!

As I was friendless and alone this weekend, I resorted to my own entertainment. I took up smoking. I gave up smoking. I cleaned the kitchen. I washed the bath. I watered the plants. I spat into the gardens of the groundfloor flats, trying to get a reaction from the tenants. No luck. As a last resort I took to drink. I raided someones cans of Dutch Gold which had been left, somewhat foolishly, unattended in our fridge and wrote four pages of my English essay slightly drunk. It is quite remarkable how well I write with a few drinks in me. In fact, I am drunk now- hic!

Perusing my work the next day I was somewhat alarmed to see the amount of exclamation points used in my intoxicated state.

Sample line:
It is amazing how female litreature continues to flourish under the weight of male hypocrasy! It is undoubtedly time for a new female revolution, since the sixties are long over my friend!

I did of course amend that little gem before handing in the essay since it was actually about books and not whatever-the-fuck-comes-out-of-Lucy's-head-including-song-lyrics. I expect a first.

*letters*to*the*editor*

Give Marie a break will ya, youre always at her.

Lynne Kirby, westlife fan (hee hee)

Lucy! I cant belive you didnt mention how you met Don Conroy! And you who is so fond of his work!

Marie Connolly, some strange person I dont know but lives in my house for some unknown reason

How are you proud for having met Dana? I would have ran away and though happy thoughts- all things bright and beautiful perhaps! tee hee!

Donna Purcell, Limerick student (pah!)

You write well for a UCD student- in fact I'm surprised you can write at all!

Grainne Walsh, Trinity asshole

What does 'encantado de conocerle' mean?

Amy Burns, dumb person

*marie*fucks*up*
*big*style!*

Though I have been telling marie for many months now- 'Marie, if youre not good Santy wont come!'- she has been behaving badly constantly and blatantly disobeying me. The highpoint of this was, I suspect as I was not there to see it, Saturday night when, without my supervision, Marie went on a mad drunken rampage. Not only was she skulling back drink at a disgustingly gluttonous rate, she was also kissing boys (!) and being violently ill in peoples houses (!!). Has this girl no moral guidence, I hear you ask? I prefer to think of her as the devil incarnate, as it gets her poor parents off the hook.

*word*of*the*day*

'in the main'

I used this A LOT in my essay today and what I would very much like to know is- does it mean anything? I fear it is a load of crap. I was using it to mean generally. Can anyone correct me?

For the interest of my non- Spanish speaking readers, 'Encantado de conocerle' means delighted to meet you, and I intend to use it in my Spanish oral exam in April. How prepared am I?

*Employment*opportunities*

Because of the influx of replies to my request for job applicants, I have been a busy bunny all week and have been unable to devote sufficent attention to the content of this newsletter. Or my essay in fact. The essay is now gone in however (2910 words, thank you very much) but as I am presently at home in, As applicant Ms A.Mullen calls 'the posh place by the sea', Tramore my brain has become the stagnant shallow pool of lethargy and boredom that is typical of all Tramore dwellers. I apologise profusely for the absence of my usual sparkling wit from this newsletter, I plan to get very drunk VERY soon and fall over a lot.

NOTE TO AFFECTIONATE AND GENEROUS FRIENDS OF THE NEWSLETTER:
A list of Christmas gifts which would be pleasing to the editor is available upon application. Please do not go off and buy me stuff without asking me cos you will surely get it wrong. I am really deep and you may find it difficult to buy for me. Hence the list. How good I am to you all!

27/12/2002

***THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***

How nice it is to go home to one's fans! I cannot count how many times I was told how beloved my newsletter was to desperate students all around Ireland! Mr David Power also said that he has shown it to an American friend of his and SHE liked it. This news upsets me greatly. It is a well known fact that Americans have no sense of humour, and also I have just decided, no taste. So I take this as an insult.

Did anyone grab me and urge a glass into my hand? No. Not even a wrinkled five euro note was thrust upon me as a sign of yuletide good will! Oh, words are all very good but they dont wet a parched throat like a glass of something wet can! You stingy bastards, its my birthday in three months i dont want to see a repeat performance of this ungenerous Christmas!

*lucy*receives*glowing*tribute*from*promising*young*poet*

Ms Eavan McGovern accosted me in my local public house last night and burbled for quite some time about something she had emailed to me. This is what i found in my inbox this morning. Ms McGovern has claimed that she finds alcohol greatly conducive to her writing. I believe this is evidenced in her writing below.

'Hello there, Lucy, to you I write,
This icy cold December night,
Your witty and sharp writing I must commend
My literary minded, book loving friend,
For ofts the time I get funny looks,
When in the library hemmed in by books,
Cos raucous giggling can be heard from me,
As i read your work alongside anatomy,
Your script is bursting with spontaneity
loved not just by me but by my med. family,
Shakespeare and Heaney, it's time to make way
Cos making her mark is this Tramore lady!'

Can I just point out that I had nothing to do with that at all, she thought it up herself. I must admire the poets confident use of rhyme and also her spelling- i cannot spell 'raucous'. Or 'spontaneity'. Though hero worship is, for me as it is for all the great role models to the young, rather burdensome i must admit that such lovely ringing praise is always welcome though Ms McGovern should know that a monetary donation to my "campaign fund" is also greatly appreciated.

*Lucy*fucks*up*

Fell over on muddy bank and got very dirty, and was observed by jeering and rude young men in passing automobile. Pride sincerely abashed. Happy?!

*Marie*fucks*up*

Marie, being slightly intoxicated last night and unfortunatly without my guidance, wandered down to taxi office in the wee hours of the morning and proceeded to proclaim in loud and not uncertain tones that a certain person of the female persuasion, who shall remain nameless, was 'fucking easy' went on to destroy any claims to virtue this young lady might have had. Unfortunatly the young lady in question was sitting on a wall not very far away.

I must add, to compound the readers horror, that Marie knew the young lady was in very close proximity to her and continued to slander her heedless to all attempts to silence her. I must repeat my earlier assertion that Marie is a wicked person and should be burnt at the stake. Any volunteers for getting together an angry mob and attacking her with pitchforks, please contact me.

*word*of*the*day*

'homothallic'
Algae or fungus that have both male and female reproductive organs, and are thus self- fertilizing.
That is fucking disgusting.

*horrible*things*that*people*say*to*me*

Mags O'Neill, who up until last night I considered my friend, has recently told me that, 'I bet Marie would be easier to live with than you'. Horror struck, I could not answer.

'The socks' I whispered, 'theyre everywhere!'
She would not believe me. 'She leaves her books in piles on the floor' i pointed out angrily. 'And shes always telling me the same stories over and over again'

Who can honestly say that they think I would be worse to live with than Marie? I mean, seriously!

12/12/2002

****THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER****

*Marie*in*grumpy*bitch*shocker!*
*Cheese*consumption*claimed*as*cause*

On Monday morning last, when UCD student Lucy Aughney attempted to rise her roommate from bed as she had been asked to do the previous evening, she was greeted with a series of foul mouthed slurs and curses. Ms Aughney, having being told my her roommate Ms Marie Connolly to 'wake me before you go to work tomorrow will ya, I have to fucking study', bent over her friends sleeping head and told her in a low voice that it was time to get up. Ms Connolly responded negatively.

Lucy tried again. Ms Connolly told her to get lost. Lucy pointed out that she had told her to wake her the previous evening. Ms Connolly snorted in derision. Upon a further attempt to rise her, Lucy was surprised and upset when her roommate sat up in her bed and declared herself 'fucking wrecked' and requested that Lucy went and 'fucked herself' because 'fuck off youre not my fucking mother!'

Lucy stumbled from the room, her mind reeling. She says what hit her the most was not the brutal verbal abuse she herself recieved but the disrespectful way Ms Connolly referred to her mother, the lovely Mrs Kathleen Connolly. Fellow house- mate Claire Crean expressed concern at Ms Connollys lazy and disrespectful behaviour: 'I was frankly shocked at Marie's attitude, I mean shes in college now, does she think its all just a big doss or something?' Ms Crean added that this is nothing new for Marie, she has 'always been a bitch'.

Upon further questioning later in the day, Marie did not apologize for her unruly behaviour but put it down to 'having a toasted cheese sandwich before bed'. Explaining further she said 'everyone knows cheese gives you nightmares. So I was probably really grumpy from all the bad dreams I had'.

Ms Aughney has declared herself not entirely satisfied with this explanation but in the name of safety has removed all dairy products from the house.

*letters*to*the*editor*

Never heard of the language, 'Eglish' Lucy.

Amy Burns, Ugly Wuglie

Mention me in your next one will ya?!

Janine Whyte, attention seeking person.

You'd better not have got yourself a D4 accent when you come home!

Mairead Flanagan, Waterford dweller

**lack*of*respect*in*todays*society**

They fuck you up, your mum and dad- they may not mean to but they do.

Philip Larkin, This Be The Verse

Though he is a dead British man, Philip Larkin has a lot in common with Marie Connolly. No, not the toyings with homosexuality. Or even the schoolgirl porn he loved. Look beyond the superficial similarities and you will see that he, as evidenced by this quote from a poem, had no respect for his mammy either. In fact, I must point out that bothe used the words 'fuck' and 'mum' in the same sentence! What does this tell you, eh? lots!

*Word*of*the*day*

'Pusillanimous'
Meaning: Showing lack of courage and determination.
Eg; The sleeping student was extremly pusillanimous in her inabilty to rise from her bed.


***my*brush*with*fame***

Since I have been abiding in the lovely city of Dublin, I have discovered that it is called 'the lovely city of Dublin' for a reason. This reason is that all the lovliest and most attractive people live here making it glow with lovliness. A great source of this lovliness is the copious amounts of celebrities that abide here alongside me. And I have been surprised how many of them seem to flock to me. Like to like as the famous physicist said (probably).

One has to know where to go of course to meet these lovely people. They are all living in Dublin for a reason and that reason is that every other county is shit for celebrity hangouts. The most glamorous person you'd get anywhere else would be Peig Sayers looking at the boats in Galway bay or something (yes I know shes dead).

I have compiled a short list of some of the lovely famous people I have sighted in Dublin and the place of sighting for your interest. Well, partly for your interest, mainly for my own satisfaction.

Dana- AIB bank
Ursula Hannigan- Kildare St
Mick Lally- Marks and Spencers
Tommy Tiernan- Dame St
Maria Doyle Kennedy- Alan Hanna's, Rathmines
Posh, English- sounding chap off Fair City- Alan Hanna's Rathmines

Yes, I know, I am great. I am practicely famous myself I have so many famous mates!

*the*assholes*i*work*with*

Just the one really. If anyone knows a girl called Deirdre who's from Donegal, stop reading now. Anyway, her names Deirdre, she's from Donegal and she plans to open her own bookshop some day, but she also wants to sell (and I quote), 'crafts I make myself'. Odd odd odd. She especialy enjoys crochet and making handbags and purses and beaded necklaces for her friends. She makes clay beads in her oven at home for the necklaces. Dum de dum dum...

Since I've started back in the bookshop, she (who may I point out has only been working there a monmth and only just started learning how to service) is giving me instructions. I have tried my notorious death- inducing gaze on her when shes looking the other way, but she is strangely resistant. Here is a direct quote from her, hereafter known as squirrely- fucking- dickface. The squirrely part is cos she looks like a sleepy squirrel.

'Hi Lucy, would you mind not winding the prittstick down the whole way to the bottom of the tube when youre finished using it cos it leaves a little hole in the middle and its really annoying, you know?'

Why?! Why is it annoying? Its a hole! It keeps the prittstick from drying out overnight! Dont get me started on how she moves my sellotape over beside her and hogs the stamp pad and always, ALWAYS takes the good scissors, or I may cry.

Today however she committed the most awful of crimes. She insulted Mundy! If any of ye were listening to Pat Kenny this morning, Mundy was on talking about some program hes doing on RTE and then he played 'July', which, as many of you may know, is a particular favourite of mine. I was there singin along, having a bit of a dance as well if truth be told and she goes; Who's this singing?

It's Mundy, says I.

Oh, says she, he has a real cult follwing with students all right doesnt he?

With STUDENTS!!!?!
I just glared at her. And she kept working away himming a little Monkees tune. Skank. First of all, i disdain the idea that the fabulous Mundy could be succesful for only frivilious and cultish reasons. Secondly, and more pertinent I belive, I HATE students and I will not be classed as one! I hate them, they drink too much and are always getting in surveys and making the rest of us 18- 24 yr olds look bad. So, naturally I hate the bitch and am working on ways to get her fired. Answers on a postcard to the usual address.

*apology*from*the*editor*

My most sincere apologies for not keeping to my usually notoriously high writing standards and quality of content (!)of my newsletters. I can only blame this on my staff, they are extremly lazy and never do anything I ask them. You'd swear I was the only one working here they way they sit around! Some days they dont even show up at the office! I am firing them all as of this second and advertising for new employees. Please email me your CV and a non- ugly photo if you wish to apply. No Trinity ass holes need apply. You WILL be ridiculed.

12/11/2002

******THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER******

**In*The*News*This*Week**

*Lucy voted 'messiest housemate' by other housemates. Lucy demands a recount
*Lucy flashes out in fancy new nike footwear- which the inmates of UCD fail to notice and praise despite repeated efforts to display them.
*Marie plans outfit to woo Mr David Grey in on Thursday. Lucy's innocent comment that he is 'probably married' is scorned by Marie
*Marie uses new clothes horse for first time. Her initial response is 'good drying time, sturdy structure'.
*Eavan McGovern continues to avoid checking her mail, so no newsletters will deliver, rendering any mention of her name in a bitchy light as she is not receiving them. Darn! Someone tell her, please?

***The*Funniest*Joke*In*The*World!***

Right, these two hunter guys were out in the woods doing what you do in the woods- No Marie, not gay sex! That's what YOU do in the woods! They were hunting right and suddenly the guy in front starts grasping at his throat- hack, hack!- and coughing and spluttering and then he falls right over- bang!- hits the forest floor with a thud, squirms around for a bit until finally his eyes roll back in his head and he lies still.

His friend is in considerable shock- Hey buddy what's the matta? You sick buddy? Shit buddy, you ok?
So he grabs his mobile phone and calls 999- Hey my buddy was coughing and choking and now he's slumped on the ground with a deathly pallor on his brow! I think he might be dead!!
So the 999 operator says- ok, ok, calm down, breathe with me, calm- now, are you absolutely sure he's dead?
Hello?
Hello? she says to empty space. What's happening she wonders,

BANG!! echoes through the forest and down the phone line to the operator-

Okay, I'm sure, what next? comes the voice from the end of the phone

That was voted to be the funniest joke in the world, my aunt saw it somewhere- It must have been all Americans voting.

***Marie*Connolly*And*How*To*Live*With*Her!**

Because of intervention on behalf of Ms Connolly by her legal team, I am unable to bring you the promised list of Marie's bad habits. Nor can I ever mention her name in relation to highlighter damaging incidents. I can however bring you the next best thing- the all new, updated and revivified Marie Fucks Up column!!

***Marie*Fucks*Up!!***

Yes my friends, for my weeks I have been complaining that nothing upsetting/ mortifying happens to me anymore, thus the demise of the dearly loved Lucy Fucks Up column. To my utmost surprise I have recently discovered that the reason for this is not because I am boring, but because newly hatched first year student Marie Connolly is taking the fall for me!

Yes, this year it is Marie who is staying the dumb stuff, losing things and wandering around in a confused daze. Her periodic blindness due to the removal of her contact lenses gives me great hope for the future- very soon I expect her to be walking into trees and falling over in public!

May my legacy live on in the hearts of first years everywhere!

***Interesting*Anthropological*Insight*Into*Ucd*Students***

Errr... D4heads wear pink the whole time? And drive jeeps? I'm out.

***Interesting*Geographical*Insight*Into*Similarities*Between*West*Of*Ireland*And*Middle*Earth***

It is my great pleasure to relate to you my scientific findings on this matter. A couple of weeks ago, after a particularly hectic night on the tiles of Tramore's most illustrious niteclub, i wandered home pondering the stars and the meaning of life and fell into bed at an early AM.

Trying to motivate myself to get up and turn off the light, my gaze skittered round my room in search of a long stick like object with which I could turn off light switch without getting out of bed, when my eyes settled upon the map Of Tolkien's Middle Earth hanging upon
my wall. [Yes, I am a nerd; what of it?] In my somewhat inebriated state I noticed that Middle Earth is unusually similar to the West of Ireland in its Coastline and geographic landforms.

Struck somewhat euphoric by my discovery, I giggled loudly to myself for a few minutes until my dear mother arrived from the next room with a murderous look and turned off my light for me. So the tale has a happy ending.

The next morning I woke with the sun at noon and discounting the harried glance of my mother, immediately began a systematic comparison of the two regions using my poster and my sisters school atlas. These are my findings.

The mighty kingdom of Gondor is in fact the slightly less mighty county of Galway.
The busy bay of Belfalas is Galway bay.
Laketown, in the North of Middle Earth, is also known as Foxford.
The Shire is sited near Castlebar... meaning,

The dwelling place of all that is evil and foul, the home of the ring and its vile master, that place called Mordor is in fact... ATHLONE!

You have been warned...

17/09/2002

*******THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER**********
*****Breaking news*****

*LYNNE KIRBY HAS BOUNCING BABY BOY!*

*Joy and love and peace and harmony flood through universe!*

The wonderous day was yesterday, when joyous young mother Lynne gave birth to her first masculine child, at 8.16 yesterday evening. Weighing in at a healthy 6lb 13, the healthcare professionals delivering the child were amazed by his striking good looks and immediate charisma upon leaving his mothers womb.

'That little guy, he's something else!' exclaimed an attending nurse.

Upon request, the new mother informed us that master Kirby does indeed posess ten fingers and toes and 'a whole lot of hair!'

NEWS JUST IN!!: Baby to be christened JOSHUA. Friend Lucy expressed dissapointment at not having the child named after her until it was pointed out (repeatedly) that it was a BOY child.

In other news:
*Lucy asks mammy where babies come from!*
*Mammy explains about the stork and the whole dropping babies down chimneys lark*
*Lucy breathes sigh of relief when she recalls new flat not equipped with chimney. No babies for me then!

15/04/2002

***********THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER*********

Hello! Or as they say in Japan, Konnichiwa!
************NEWSFLASH!!***************
*****FIANAIT* SLAMS*LUCY!!*****

In a shocking incident last Friday evening, Miss Fianait Ni Gallachorarara (?) insulted the esteemed editor of this publication, Miss Lucy 'Lovely' Aughney. 'I am extremely disappointed at her standard of spoken English', stated Miss Ni Galachaaha. 'From her famed newsletters i always though her well spoken and eloquent but upon meeting her in person, i find her uncouth, foul mouthed and ignorant.'

Miss Ni Galllaghcoir also called into question the legitimacy of Miss Aughney's authorship of this newsletter, saying she doubted miss Aughney's capability to read, let alone write. She suggested Lucy Aughney was used by a sinister mind as a glamorous front to an unknown person's mind warping ramblings.

Miss Ni Gillacuddy said her suspicion was first aroused when Miss Aughney referred to a paperback novel for the meaning of a word she intended to use in her next newsletter. 'Its total fraud' complained miss Galapagos. 'I always assumed she knew those words, but she told us she finds big words in books and then looks up the meanings after! She's not clever at all!'

In response to these allegations, Miss Aughney said: 'Does she think im f**king Shakespeare or something? Who the f**k knows what those f**king words mean without looking them up? Who's she to talk about being F**king clever anyway- f**king primary teachers, think they know everything!'

One who declined comment however, was Miss Grainne Walsh who witnessed the exchange between the two ladies. When asked about her views on the matter she pointed out somewhat obscurely, 'Lucy bit me in second class y'know. In the line after break. It hurt.' All other attempts to contact Miss Walsh have been marred by her being in a permanent alcohol induced stupor.

We await further revelations on this issue.

***LETTERS*TO*THE*EDITOR***

Lucy- I have a stalker you could borrow; for a reasonable rent of course.

Jenny Kiely, Car- driver.

Luceeee, i never get any emails, i have no friends- send me some pleeeeease!

Marie Connolly, deprived child.

I've got new runners with shiny stripes on, i do.

Annie Mullen, odd girl

The 8.45 bus to Waterford has left Georges Quay. Be more promt in future.

Rapid Express Office, assholes.

*****WORD*OF*THE*DAY********

'Myoclonic Jerk'
The unusual feeling of falling in the state before sleep, accompanied by sudden awakening.

********LUCY*TAKES*A*FALL*******

Having only recently rid myself of the partial deafness of my left ear, which was the unwelcome and unusual residue of my departed head cold, I have now gladly acquired a aching shoulder and strained wrist. This pleases me greatly as I earned it during a gymnastic exercise on Monday night (last) when I fell over showing my flat mates how good i've gotten at cartwheels. Landing on the nearby coffee table, the ensuing pain required me to fashion a sling from a scarf and moan softly for the remainder of the evening.

It gives me great pride to remark on it, my first athletic injury, and speak of it often as 'an injury sustained during training'. The girls are behaving less than sympathetically though- Ann Marie rolled her eyes when i suggested i seek physiotherapy as part of my re- cooperation, and Janine refused point blank to write out my essays for me.

Janine refused to take me to the doctor either, even when my injury lingered till Thursday.

'But Janine,' I moaned ' what if i am permanently damaged and have to retire from the game? What a loss it would be to the world and Ireland in particular if i could not represent my country in the next Olympics!'

Janine was stern and unyielding, and particularly cruel when she pointed out i had probably aggravated it my sleeping on the floor for the last three nights. This, although true, was entirely unjustified and a low blow in my book. I had told her I was only sleeping on the floor to make sleeping an unattractive activity and hopefully lever me out of bed in the morning. It had, admittedly, failed as i had remained, sound asleep and snoring till 11am on the floor under my desk, but i still find her cruelty unwarrented and harsh.

*********LUCY*FUCKS*UP*********

What a blinder last tuesday was! The best yet, I feel and especially nice as it was observed in close quarters by about twenty people who actually know me. I was going, for the first time in many weeks, to my weekly ElS Creative writing meeting at 6pm last Tuesday. It being a few minutes past six, i was relived to find the door still open and stalked in smiling broadly, and hurried to bring a chair up to join the others at the table.
Who, oddly enough, were staring at me in wonder.

'Eh' came a voice from the head of the table. 'Theres no Creative Writing tonight- were just here to have a committee meeting'

Ah yes, said Lucy. Bumbling out of the room i whispered apologies to all and raced down the corridor, near tears. For many moments after i stomped round the empty halls of the Arts block, smacking myself repeatedly on the forehead. Dumb dumb dumb. Many of you may not recognise the humiliation in this incident, but doubt me not it is there. **********DID*YOU*KNOW?***********

The item of clothing 'apron' was originally called 'napron' until the word evolved over the years into its more easily pronnouncable form.
Thus, 'a napron' became 'an apron'.

AMAZING!!!

08/04/2004

***********THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER***********

According to an untrustworthy and suspect source (a Trinnian), intelliegnt people have deposits of zinc and copper in their hair. What, i wonder, do stupid people have in their hair? That, my friends is the sign of a genius- always questioning, always pushing the... bar or boat or something.

I can do Cartwheels now. And handstands. I was practicing last night when everyone went to bed, yet another avoidance tactic to get out of doing my linguistics essay. One thing i can not do very well though is summer- hey! How do ya spell summer- saults? Sommersaults? Summer? Salts? Very tricky altogether.

******Letters*To*The*Editor*****

I dont want to give a quote!

Cathy Burns, as submitted by intrepid reporter and devious sister Amy Burns

Your last email was disappointingly short- I worry you may be filling your time with study instead!

Marie Connolly, concerned reader

When considering how you will punish me for forgetting your birthday, please ask yourself- what would bono do? and forgive me!!

Louise Brent, new addition to our happy family

Im not paying for you to repeat next year, you can just drop out of college!

Kate Murphy, cruel and sadistic mother

***A*Funny*Thing*Happened*On*Me*Way*To*A*Lecture***

Well not a lecture really- more like a tutorial. An English tutorial as it happens- yes, with the tutor that i stalk!

'These tutorials', my English tutor announced, 'are coming to an end.' Awww said Lucy.

'This', she continued, 'is the final tutorial of the year.' Pity said Lucy. '

Today we will examine themes and motifs apparant in the novel Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.' Whoopee said Lucy.

'Lets move on' she said, 'to the relationship between Heathcliff and Hareton'. With terror I noticed the dark haired girl in the corner clear her throat.

'I believe' she began 'that this relationship has strong undercurrents of homosexuality'

A pause.

'Ehh- Hareton is Heathcliffs foster son.' the tutor pointed out gently.

'Ah, thats what she wants you to think! Why then did he get all jealous when Hareton falls in love with Catherine?!' She said triumphantly.

This girl is homosexual crazy. She has found Homosexual influences in almost all of the texts we have studied this year, bar 'Top Girls'which we read in December and a poem on old age we did in January.

**************LYNNE*KIRBY********

My good pal Lynne has informed me that she never reads my newsletters, only scans them for her name, and seeing no mention of it, deletes! As a response, i hereby begin the Lynne Kirby Column, where i will dutifully discuss her to show my unabashed affection for my chum.

Ahem.

Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby Lynne Kirby!

Lynne Lynne Lynne!

Thank you. That is all i have to say.

*******LUCY*MAKES*FRIENDS********

Wow. Scary week for me this was. Despite my deliberate attempt to disasociate myself from my fellow UCD students (and TCD students- eww.), I have nonetheless amassed myself some buds. How this happened i know not. I put it down to my animal maganetism and rugged good looks (is ruggedness attractive quality in a woman? Doubtful).

Here is a short list of my independently earned mates. This does not include the friends of my roommates who are also attracted to me for the above reasons.

Emma: Odd looking girl in shell suit and glasses- member of my English tutorial- obsessed with homosexuality (male) in litreature.

Kim : Small girl with tumbling black curls and a permanent pout- member of my History tutorial- talks in teeny tiny voice when boys are around, unbeliveably racous and crude when they are not.

Siobhan: Neighbour- follows me to lectures every morning- underage alcoholic- prolific smoker- from Cavan, nothing more to be said really.

Claire: Fellow History student- very small- very brainy- unfortunatly plays many sports so am unable to bond with her for fear that she may form lesbian attachment- those sporty girls often do you know.

The latest addition to my "gang o' bitches" is one Aoife D, who unexpectedly addressed me as 'mate' during the concluding moments of our creative writing class last Thursday. The exchange went as follows-

Aoife- Are ya coming to the bar?

Lucy- Nah, sure Theos not goin is he? I wanted to crack in to him!

['Theo' is poet Theo Dorgan who was conducting the class on tha particular evening]

Aoife- Good one mate! Come though; will ya?

Lucy- Seriously, i have a fuckload of essays to do, it is embarrasing how stupid i am!

A- God! And I dont?! Ha ha!

L- Ha ha!

A- Will ya not come for one?

L- I'm grand thanks- see ya.

See? SEE? It is frightening how irresistable i am! She asked me for a drink THREE TIMES! Get over me!

All in all I know about eight people in Arts- another four I know to nod to in the hall. Why, I wonder am I doomed to meet all ten of them whenever I venture into the building! Most days I even bump into a lecturer or two also- my stalked english tutor especially often! It is a peculiar curse that such a reclusive genius as myself has the misfortune of meeting ten or so assholes whenever I wander the halls in vacant or in pensive mood! More often vacant actually.

Take for example my encounter with one such pleb last tuesday...

Asshole: Hi Lucy, hi!

Lucy: Oh... Hiya. How the fuck are ya.

Asshole... ooh, fine! Off to a lecture are ya? [Lucy is walking briskly away]

Lucy: Er... yes. [aside] in the bookshop!

******LUCY*FUCKS*UP*****

**LITERALLY**

I am just recently (half an hour ago) come from a probing and difficult mock exam with my History group. The question, on revolution and war, was unusually easy for me until I discovered with a shock that I had forgotten the date for the commencement of the American Revolution. This was a serious matter, and totally fucked up my whole essay structure. Taken greviously by surprise I gasped without thinking: 'fuuuuck!' Que disapproving looks from tutor and evil sneers from snotty boys in tutorial. Fuck indeed.

Swearing is not banned as such but refraining from using it does denote a certain civilised attitude. The lecturers swear for effect in lectures- using the term 'fucked' liberally to appear cool. Hah. One hip young lecturer announced the advancement of her hangover in colourful expletives every Monday and Thursday morning- and one Wednesday afternoon. The woman must drink all day.

Another wildly clever thing I did last week involved me old pals at creative writing. The poet lad was going around asking everyone for a word to do with 'risque' and while veryone else offered gems like 'sexy' or 'offensive' or 'scandalous', Lucy burbled for a moment before whispering- 'book'. Pausing momentarily, he eyed me with new found respect and fear. A risque book. Devilish.

***********HAPPY*FAMILY***********

Ahh. I love yis all. Ye all feel like my family. Thats why im putting ye all down on me census form as my foster children. Ahhh. And claiming the child benefit for ye. Ye kids cant bludge off me forever!

*****WORD*OF*THE*DAY*****

'Garrulous'

Excessively or pointlessly talkative. Not saying anything about anyone in particular...

******I'LL*BE*WATCHING*YOU*****

My stalker has quit. Left, without giving two weeks notice. He's not getting a bloody reference off me, i can tell you! I am alone in the world, going without my daily business without the constant threat of death upon me. Sigh.... How lonely i am. Even a OBSESSIVE FREAK got bored. And i'm stuck with me.

Pooh.

27/03/2002

*******THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER*****

Oh sweet Jesus. I have a stalker. Thank you thank you thank you! Its just what i've always wanted! Well, no, actually what i've always wanted is to be a stalker but this is just as good!

I have revealed the Janine pretender to be a fake, and i have since been recieving tantalising clues about his/her identity (sex undetermined), such as:

'Lets just say I know where you live...'
'I'll give you a clue. I enjoyed your newsletter, so nice to get a mention...'
'Hey, youre not allowed to mess with my head- I'm the stalker remember!'

WOW! I mean, wow! I have my very own crazed fan! I have my own opinions about who it is though- i've got an inkling it might be Enrique cos i'm always mentioning him. Or- Oh! It might be Bono! Yes, i'd say it's definatly Bono. Wow. Cool or what?

Thank to Amy for the 'Congratulations on your preganancy' card- very tactful.

****LETTERS*TO*THE*EDITOR****

Now I know just too much about you dont I?

-Stalker

What did Enrique say about the pregnancy? Or is it Bono's?

Mairead Flanagan, interested party

I must point out that it is necessary to procure a court order before delving into anyone's private phone records.

Graham Miller, phone person

Lucy, i have your present made, do you want to call in for it or will i post it to you?

Liz Kelleher, amazingly kind and generous person

****WORD*OF*THE*DAY****

'Surreptitiously'

To do something with stealth and silence.

eg; The mysterious figure crept surreptitiously through the trees.

'Lucy! You have a surreptitious stalker!' exclaimed the police.

****SOMETIMES*I*THINK*MY*LIFE*WOULD*BE*EASIER*IF*I*WASNT*SO*PRETTY****

Just thought that needed to be said.

******LUCY*FUCKS*UP*******

What I have done is that i have successfully lost ALL the titles of my undone essays, meaning i am even more royally f**ked than i was before (if that is possible). I had them all (all ten of them- I am quite a bit behind) written out on pages and stuck in a plastic sheet which i have mislaid. Now I have to go tramping round the whole college collecting them all up again. What a bother. I hate my college.

****LUCY*IS*BORED****

Cant think of anything to say. Am v.v. bored. Oh well. Better go study. Huh.

22/03/2002

**********THE*LUCY*AUGHNEY*NEWSLETTER*********

One thing I love about people (bar me that is; I am not people) is that when you point out a mistake they have made in an insulting manner they become defensive and rude. Even though I alerted all of you about my birthday in time for you to jump on a plane/ train / camel and hot- foot it to Dublin to celebrate with me, not one person did! Nor did I recieve any straggling gifts this morning. What is up? Can you not take constructive critisism?! The only response I got were the vaugely nasty comments featured in the below quotes.

I did however get some gratification for my email, in the form of a witty ecard from Ms Rachel Heutson. Now Rachel, do you really think that suffices as recognition of my nineteenth birthday? Where is my REAL card, stuffed with 50 euro notes?

I also recieved odd and ambigious text messages from an unidentified source, claiming to be Janine, but this I found to be a lie as the texter questioned me on matters which any self respecting Janine would know!

Now hear this Mystery Number! I will find you out! My friend Tomas Breen knows Brian Fitzgerald who works in Esat and he can find things like that out and trace the number! You have been warned! (Oh yeah, you'll sort that one out for me right Tomas? Thanks mate)

*****LETTERS*TO*THE*EDITOR*****

Get Over Yourself!

Graham Miller, Ex- debs going person

I wasted my last few cent on sending you a picture msg for your birthday and you dont even mention me!

Sarah Brennan, irate person

I'm economical, it must be the business student in me!

Donna Purcell, free message sender person

No comment, no present, no notice.

Rest of stupid assholes who forgot my birthday

***THE*STUPIDEST*PERSON*IN*THE*WORLD****

Yes, just my luck she showed up this morning to collect something. Uncommonly chirpy, even for her, i sent her to the shop for me as I was unavoidably, ah well- undressed as it happens. I distinctly requested a pack of BLUE WALKERS and a MORO, but she brings me back GREEN HUNKY DORYS and a TWIX without a smidgen of guilt or explanation!

What is wrong with her? Is she slightly deaf? Or perhaps she has a very poor memory. I prefer to think of her as evil however as she PURPOSEFULLY bought me the wrong food, and its my birthday and all! (well, it was recently my birthday) And everybody knows i despise twixs (twixes? twix'? twixis?) with a passion! GOD! The brazenness of that girl! She is so...GOD!

****A*FUNNY*THING*HAPPENED*ON*ME*WAY*TO*A*LECTURE****

Well, no it didnt. I dont actually have any lectures cos im off till April 2nd but the funny thing is im too late to get the 4.15 bus so im sitting here wroting a newsletter when i have NOTHING TO SAY! When do I ever have anything to say you might say, ha ha! Thats funny isnt it?

Ooh, I just remembered a funny thing that happened a few weeks back in one of my History tutorials. I recall it because it was one of the rare times that I spoke to people in my class, and it turned out to be a rip- roarer of a chuckle!

We were (once again) discussing the French Revolution, a favourite topic of mine, not only because of the illicit and highly charged love affair I am having with the lecturer of this particular course, but because the course text is one of the few books I actually own, meaning of course that I peruse it frequently and in depth. (Hah!)

Anyway, our tutor, who believes we are all on the simple side, favours questions with easy and obvious answers and was pumping us for information on Louis XVI. She asked 'how did Louis become King of France?'

Not being as clever as she hoped, one of our number mumbled 'His father', which she was entirely content with until I, being the sharp wit that I am remarked- 'I'd say his mother had a bit to do with it!'

Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hee hee hee hee hee!

How we all laughed!

Hopefully, you are now laughing too. It was my one moment of glory in college, I think you should be able to force a half-hearted giggle.

*****WORD*OF*THE*DAY****

'Perspicacious'

Meaning the possessing of quick insight. Mmmm. Good one that.

eg: The author of the newsletter was a perspicacious young lass.

The perspicacious friends of the author quickly purchased for her many large gifts, realising they had forgotten her birthday.

*******LUCY*FUCKS*UP*******

The world breaks everyone- and afterwards many are strong in the broken places.

Ernest Hemmingway

The world has broken me. More precisely, an old lady in a brown coat and a blue headscarf has broken me. I have reason to believe she was a private op working under the power of a sinister other party. No reason for this, just makes it sound more exciting and less dismal.

I caught the bus yesterday. From Drumcondra to Clonskeagh. The 11 it was. When I got on all the seats were full so I stepped smartly into the alcove where the exit door in positioned. An old lady sitting in the seat in front of me half turned to me and smiled. 'Would you like to sit down dear?' she asked pleasantly, offering to get up.

'Oh no thank you, I wont thanks!' I chattered equally pleasantly. She smiled again and turned away.

Then it hit me. Why did she offer me her seat? I know I was a bit worse for the wear owing to an over-indulgence the previous evening but she surely couldnt mistake me as old? She was old herself! And I didn't have a gammy leg or anything. I was slyly caluclating her age when I remembered the other section of society that one is obliged to offer one's seat to; pregnant people.

Gasping, I clutched the hand rail convulsevley- surely not! Did I really look pregnant? Maybe she had mistaken my hungover flush to be the happy glow of impending motherhood. Miserably I stood up straighter and sucked in my stomach. I was pregnant. Or looked it anyway.

Oh, I am broken. And pregnant. Apparantly.