I dropped by the Blog Awards on Saturday night to pick up my award for Best Use of the Irish Language in a Blog clap politely when I didn't win anything. I was in good company; I went along with OneFor, Rua, Annie, Jenna and Bjarni - none of whom won anything either. It wasn't my kind of gig at all, it felt too much like work and the sheer number of people there put me off searching for the ones I would genuinely like to have met (apologies to Prender, Manuel and the Other Manuel in particular as they were sweet enough to say they'd looked out for me). Also, I was getting funny looks for squinting at everybody's diddies in a vain effort to read their nametags and ascertain whether or not they merited my drunken attentions. I did see a few of those whose blogs I have unrequited love affairs with but I was too shy to introduce myself - there's nothing spazzier than those "you don't know me, but... OMG, I'm your biggest fan!" conversations. Through accident, design, some effort and sheer good luck I've met no less than 7 bloggers in the last few weeks for quiet pints and it's been a great experience meeting each of them. I think that's how I'd much rather do it - not at a mass event with name-tags that I can't read and seating arrangement that I can't negotiate when I'm full of vodka and wearing heels but on familiar ground, when I can give them my full attention and scrutinize their every move in order to decide whether or not they fit with what I had expected.
I had a brilliant night, just not at the awards. As soon as all the crystal had been divvied up Rua, OneFor and I retreated once more to the relative safety of Kennedys, where OneFor and I had already ploughed through approximately 4 rounds of dutch courage prior to heading to the awards in the first place. From there to Whelans (more vodka, accidental meetings, unsolicited and creepy neck massages) and then the long walk home (arguments over directions, whingeing about stiletto heels, offers of piggyback rides and mean digs about my large feet) to the flat (two DJs with ADD, a large bottle of Pancho, a broken lamp, some dancing, no sleep). A text from Rua the following evening - beidh an bua againn sa fíor domhain! I cared not a jot, I'd won a consolation prize.
I had a brilliant night, just not at the awards. As soon as all the crystal had been divvied up Rua, OneFor and I retreated once more to the relative safety of Kennedys, where OneFor and I had already ploughed through approximately 4 rounds of dutch courage prior to heading to the awards in the first place. From there to Whelans (more vodka, accidental meetings, unsolicited and creepy neck massages) and then the long walk home (arguments over directions, whingeing about stiletto heels, offers of piggyback rides and mean digs about my large feet) to the flat (two DJs with ADD, a large bottle of Pancho, a broken lamp, some dancing, no sleep). A text from Rua the following evening - beidh an bua againn sa fíor domhain! I cared not a jot, I'd won a consolation prize.
