Sometimes I wonder what my function is. I mean I have one, we all do. But my function is only called upon when you want to make yourself more comfortable.

Why is that?

You force me to sit in the dark with the other rejects of your needs, but only after I’ve been found curled up in a ball in the hall closet and then tucked away to be forgotten about. Forgotten about until you need me, that is.

But even when you find yourself in need of my services, you have still forgotten that time you found me in the hall, maybe you forgot on purpose giving you an excuse to move on and find another. I don’t blame you.

I’m only half of what I used to be, I’m incomplete.

I sit in the dark with all of the odd ones you have cast aside or “forgotten” about over the years. Why can’t you cast us all aside for good in the name of charity, instead of leaving us hanging in the hope that one day you’ll need me or any of us again?

Like an odd sock I have no match, I am no longer whole. I understand that I no longer look as good as I used to, time has not been kind to me, but my need to be used by you has never waned. My hope that you will some day trawl through your baggage and find what will make me useful to you again is stronger than ever.

If I’m honest with myself, I know that will never happen.

You once depended on me when it rained, when it was cold and you needed warmth and protection. Now, you don’t even remember me.

I’m frayed and balding, how naive I was to think that would never bother you.

I remember when it snowed that one winter and we had such fun, hand in hand.

Why can’t we go back to that time?

Why do we behave like this?

Why do we scream at each other?

This is what it sounds like.

When gloves cry.

Grandad said this.

Shitetalker said this.

I’m saving my post for women in the supermarket until the dust settles!!!!

The next made up complaint just for free food I get will result in me doing this:

You have been warned!

I’m leaving my job. The events that lead to this will be for another day and another post. I’m leaving not only the restaurant, but the restaurant business.

Woo – freaking – hoo.

I’ve gotten myself a job where I won’t have to deal with the public, at all. Sweet, my life long dream. Even better? It’s a normal job and a start to a new career. No nights, no weekends. I can be a real person now.

But before I go, I want to reveal who I am. Sort of.

I have been writing about my job and the experiences for a long time now and since I started I have received emails from people telling me that I should be careful about what I say about my customers as there can’t be too many 28 year old restaurant managers in Dublin and that I’d write something that would cause someone to come looking for me.

First of all, there are more 28 year old restaurant managers in Dublin than you think. Secondly there are more restaurants in Dublin than you might think, so even if you wanted to come and find me, how would you go about it?

I could tell you. Or at least give you clues.

If anyone finds me before my last shift, or even guesses the correct restaurant here, I will award prizes.

You can come and find me in person or guess it here in the comments. You can ask questions and I will be honest in my answers.

You can’t ask outright which restaurant it is, obviously. But anything else asked will be answered honestly.

The prizes are:

• Correct guess on the comment form here: €100 to spend in my restaurant.
• Seeking me out successfully in person : €200 to spend in my restaurant.

What have you got to lose?

Some of you wanted to know for various reasons, so here’s your chance.

I’ll even give a couple of clues to get you on your way based on what some people have asked in the past:

1. It’s on the Southside of the City Center
2. It’s not a Pizza Hut
3. It’s not on Dame Street
4. Chips/fries don’t appear on my menu

If no body guesses by next Tuesday (5th August) then I’m keeping schtum and saving a couple hundred squids.

Have at it.

There’s a lot of talk about meme’s.

Darragh not only posted about them, but he went on radio to talk about them.

Then there’s other people who have sent them around and it goes on and on. I didn’t even know what a bloody meme was until I read what people were doing. I’m not even offended that I haven’t been meme’d yet. Really.

All of you seasoned bloggers out there can correct me if I’m wrong, but they seem to be the modern day equivalent of a chain letter. You fill out your answers/opinions and then meme someone else, or just forward it, to the set/agreed number of people.

I may sound cynical or sceptical, but that’s only because I am. What’s the deal with them? You can explain it to me and I probably still won’t get it. So I have taken it upon myself to meme er, myself.

I will call it the “What if…..” meme and I will ask myself questions that start with the title.

Instead of me meme-ing others with this, you may take it upon yourself to, erm, meme yourself with this meme and leave it for others to meme themselves.

Go on. Everybody’s doing it. Apparently.

• What if I had invisible powers?

Then that would be the single greatest gesture and mistake that nature/science would ever make. I don’t have to elaborate.

• What if I controlled TV?

Pat Kenny would be on the dole queue faster than Twink on a sympathy drive.

• What if I could fix the worlds problems?

I probably would, but only after I had exploited my powers for my own good. Which only means I’d have more to fix in the long run. Hmmm.

• What if I could control people’s minds?

Once again Pat Kenny would be on the dole, but there wouldn’t be any cuntish behaviour anymore. At least not while you’d be around me.

• What if I was a hysterical evil genius?

It’s not looking good for Pat. I would build an evil layer in a volcano and watch my minions on my monitors as I concoct over elaborate and unnecessarily complicated plans to over throw various people. Like Madonna, or James Blunt. Pair of cunts.

• What if I was a worldly respected superhero?

Sadly, Pat would have to remain unharmed. But I would use my powers to set up a school like in X-Men, and fill it with the contents of the Playboy mansion. Minus the wrinkly old perv with a Viagra prescription. We all lived happily ever after.

• What if I was an honest politician?

Trick question.

• What if Pat Kenny died in a freak exploding y fronts “accident”?

That would be a short lived happy happy joy joy moment, as Gerry Ryan would probably step in.

• What if I was an entrepreneurial genius?

I’d open a y fronts factory beside a freak explosions factory and stage an elaborate and very public merger of the two, float the stocks and the invite Pat Kenny AND Gerry Ryan to the grand opening of the new joint venture factory. Pretty good chance Twink would show up too. Bonus.

• What if that actually happened?

Madonna and James Blunt would play at “Pat-Aid” which would be staged at ground zero of the now ruined factories. By then, I surely wold have a plan to get rid of them.

So there it is, the self meme. If nothing else, it’s very therapeutic. Try it for yourself. Start the questions with “What if…..” and away you go.

By the way, the one thing I do understand about meme’s is that the starter gets credit.

• What if I don’t get credit?

Lets put it this way: I have a bag of puppies, a shot gun and a box of shells. Please don’t add rage to the equation, the curry house has stopped paying so much for puppy meat.