U.C.I.I.C.U.

Today started the way most of my Sunday's start-dry heaving over a toilet bowl. Its a terrible fact to realise that not only have my hangovers turned into violent assaults on my nervous system, but that I seem to have accepted my own fate. The shakes, the churns, the potential hemorrhage type headache and the momentary blindness are familiar friends at this stage, generally sent away only after 2 bottles of Lucozade and 5 packets of crisps. I can do hangovers in my sleep at this stage-vomiting and texting simultaneously while frying eggs and grilling sausages. I pulled myself together and headed to work where I spent a delightful day in the square. (don't ask)
Its really hard to explain what the Square is like to someone who hasn't been-think rainbows to the blind. The shopping centre itself is a bit of a navigational nightmare. I think theres meant to be three levels, but as you stand near one of the 37 escalators you'd be more inclined to think eight. Split level was clearly the way to go back in the 90's. Strolling past the array of bakeries, eurolands and hot pants you find yourself in U.C.I. Ireland's most annoying cinema. I've yet to go to a film here that hasn't been attended by at least 20 unaccompanied minors. The funniest encounters of which have seen me witness a full blown telephone conversation between two people sitting in rows next to each other, a woman with a crying baby (I'm patient-but 30 fucking minutes is outrageous) and a full blown game of chasing down the aisles and across the screen. Sitting down for the duration of a film in U.C.I. is completely optional. I think the most bizarre thing I ever saw was an attendant asking a nurse would they mind bringing the person they were looking after in the wheelchair outside because they were making weird noises and disturbing people.(God forbid they would interrupt the dry riding session in row F)

Today found me in a much more temperate mood watching "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas" I wont offer a critique except to say it was better than the book and you'd have to be a pretty heartless fuck not to feel something after watching it. During a pivotal scene I heard this:

Child: whats a Jew?
Older child: Someone who doesn't believe in Holy God.

As the film credits rolled I turned to leave and saw a boyfriend cradling his sobbing girlfriend as she cried loudly and rocked back and forth.