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Ah Sunday. Bloody Sunday. The Sabbath, if you will.

I was wondering actually… there were places at Electric Picnic to bounce about like a mad yoke, to rock your socks off, laugh your ass off, chill the heck out, eat, drink, and indeed be merry – places to indulge your inner child and places to sooth your soul… but I was wondering, was there any place for the religious among us (not that I was one) to indulge their need for a weekly service?

I know there was the inflatable church (on the way in from Hendrix, past the cinema) but all they were doing there, as far as I know, was mock wedding ceremonies (and the reception discos that followed) – and not the normal Sunday service. In fact, I think the closest you could get to a proper religious service (although I could be wrong!) was heading up to the main stage (met my friend Arun from my class in college on the way there, he was working in the bar – and my other college classmate Adam at the main stage itself – he was doing security) to praise the lorrrrrd (halle-bleedin’-lujah!) along with the Dublin Gospel Choir… which was fine by me.

On the only day of the weekend when the heavens decided to open and the rain came down, these guys and girls (including a friend of mine, Meabh) really lifted the damp spirits of the small crowd that showed up and got them moving to the beat. It was a great way to kick off the day.

*stretch* … out of “bed” (for which, read “ex German army sleeping bag with arms on top of bivvy bag on a bloody hard ground”) after about 3-4 hours sleep. It’s Saturday in Stradbally and I’ve a long enough day ahead, including meeting a bunch of twitter folk and, of course, attending a pile of gigs. Good times.

My first stop (after ‘breakfast’ – which consisted of a ham and cheese crêpe and a pretty decent coffee) was the pink boat near the Nokia dome for the tweet-up, where I met Amy (@amylong), Ben (@dinglesurf), Blaithín (@bngr), Anthony (@anthonymcg) and we all wandered down to the garden of peace and harmony (a.k.a. The Body + Soul Arena) and checked out the mind expanding and artistically inspiring stuff there…

Here we are:

L->R: bngr, anthonymcg, amylong, me. Photo taken by dinglesurf (not in the picture, obviously)

Waiting for the brother. Bored. Noticed this questionnaire I filled out on my blog three years ago. Decided I’d fill (most of) it out again and check out the differences. *yawn*

Name: Niall O’Keeffe.
Birthday: December 2nd 1976. I’m 32.
Birthplace: St. John’s Hospital, Ennis Road, Limerick City.
Current Location: Donabate, Co. Dublin.
Eye Colour: Green.
Hair Colour: Dark Brown.

It’s 2pm, I’m just awake a short while, and I’m … in recovery. I had a great night last night and all (mostly anyway) thanks to UnaRocks (who I met and chatted with briefly – and yes, she does rock!).

The movie (with Paul Rudd, Seann William Scott and the extraordinarily hot Elizabeth Banks) was just bloody hilarious – everyone should go see it when it goes on general release on Jan 1st. I don’t think a minute passed during watching it where I wasn’t laughing out loud. Here’s the (rude) trailer:

XXXMas Soundcheck was… bonkers… and great fun! It took me ages to not be the guy standing in the corner talking to nobody (and actually “tweeting” on my mobile). Una herself gives a pretty accurate summary of the night here. There were photos but I didn’t get into any of them.

There’s not much more I can say… until my brain decides to start working again. Crackin’ night!

Look, people… stop being afraid to say what you’re thinking, … what you really feel!

When she asks you “does my bum look big in this?”, don’t be afraid to say “yes, but that’s because you’ve got a big arse, love;- it’d look big in anything, you know?” (and possibly tack on “of course, you know I like it that way…”)

When she asks “do you like my new haircut?”, don’t be afraid to say “no, it makes you look like a lesbian. I used to think that lesbians were hot, but you just arsed that one up for me, didn’t you? Nice one, thanks! … Oh, I’m being sarcastic by the way. Had to tell you that, as girls don’t recognise sarcasm. Y’know,… just like Americans”.

And if she ENDLESSLY asks you about turning that engagement into a marriage, when the debts are going to be cleared, when you’re going to “make good on that commitment”, because Christ she’s been waiting forever – starting about a week after you put the fucking ring on her finger, … then run… run now and run very fast.

That’s all the advice my drink-addled mind can currently give. Why I feel the need to give advice right now, I don’t know. And by the way – DO, please note that my advice right now is probably worth precisely fuck-all

I’d kill for a pack of cigarettes. I’d do bad stuff for just one.

Ain’t gonna happen though!