Siblings

PARIS (AFP) – The Internet has given birth to a quirky range of modern addictions and maladies, the British weekly New Scientist says in its Christmas issue.

They include these:

– EGO-SURFING: When you frequently check your name and reputation on the Internet.

– BLOG STREAKING: “Revealing secrets or personal information online which for everybody’s sake would be best kept private.”

– CRACKBERRY: “The curse of the modern executive: not being able to stop checking your BlackBerry, even at your grandmother’s funeral.” (A BlackBerry is a popular handheld device that can be used for phoning, emailing and web-browsing).

– GOOGLE-STALKING: Defined as “snooping online on old friends, colleagues or first dates.”

– CYBERCHONDRIA: “A headache and a particular rash at the same time? Extensive online research tells you it must be cancer.”

– PHOTOLURKING: Flicking through a photo album of someone you’ve never met.

– WIKIPEDIHOLISM: Excess devotion to contributing to the online collaborative encyclopaedia, Wikipedia. (Wikipedia even has a page where you can test whether you’re an addict: (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wik…ic-Test)).

– CHEESEPODDING: Downloading of a song “so cheesy that you could cover it in plastic wrap and sell it at the deli counter.” Cheesepodders are especially vulnerable to soft-rock favourites from the 1970s.

I emailed my sister and told her she was a crackberry. Her instant response was “Yes, I know, blogstreaker”.

Me: I think I’ll ring Aunty Helen.

Her: NOOO, talk to me, I hate the telephone.

Me: Nope, I’m going to call her.

Her (snorting): Big meanie.

I ring her work number.

Indian Gentleman: Hallo.

Me (Somewhat surprisd): Oh hello, I was looking for Helen.

Him: For Hindi?

Me: No, for Helen.

Princess (loudly): Big meanie.

Him: Oh OK. Where from?

Princess (loudly): I hate the telephone.

Me: From Brussels. From Belgium.

Him: Wait ok?

Long pause.

Helen: Is something wrong?

Me: No, just rang for a chat.

Princess: Big mean old Mummy.

Helen: Oh, because, I’ve just been pulled out of a difficult meeting that I’m chairing.

Me: Oh right, you better go back then, I hope that I didn’t undermine the professional tone of the meeting.

Helen: No, I think that that was fatally compromised by the stream of employees coming in wanting to play table tennis.

Me: What?

Helen: Well, we are running late and after work there’s a table tennis club here.

My sister is 31 today – fancy that, and though the Princess won’t let me talk to her, she did sing happy birthday for her.

More famous mothers – NaBlPoMo

So the Fish said

I love Beth, she’s just so nice. That makes her sound bland but she’s not, at all. She’s hilarious. She’s kind and clever too. She is also mother to the world’s most beautiful child only excepting yours and mine which are tied there at the top also. There are some blogs I love but I’m not entirely sure I would like to meet the author but I would love to meet Beth. That’s why she should be worried about stalkers in, what she foolishly believes to be, her Washington safe house. Doubtless, once you have investigated her blog, you will want to stalk her too, but, hey, join the queue.

Fussy

Inventor of the NaBlPoMo. Do I need to say more?

My brother has sent the following email to my parents: Hi All, This will be just a quick email as I’m writing on a dodgy old computer(think our old computer before I put the extra RAM in) and I’m afraid I’ll lose all the info before I get to send the email…….. This is my first travel email for quite a while so it’s time to reacquaint yourselves with the diet of unfinished sentences, obscure analogies and spelling that appears in no (English) dictionary. Anyway the trip has gone very well so far although thanks to Helen’s input the pace has been fairly hectic….arrived in Delhi, was barely over the jetlag when I was taken out for a look at the famous red fort and walk around the market in the Muslim quarter in old Delhi. The red fort was impressive with mosques and palaces and stuff. One problem with Delhi is that it is full of beggars and people trying to sell you stuff you don’t want (although I managed to accumulate enough of the latter in Ireland without any pressure). The problem in Delhi is getting stuff you do want, beer would be easier to find in Chicago during prohibition, junk food and ready meals are easier to find in our (new) fridge at home. All in all the place is tough going but not as bad as Helen makes out (that would not be possible). Next day we flew to Nepal, had a look around the city, we saw temples full of monkeys (not sure how this would work in St. Agustine’s [local church in Cork]). Continuing the tour (think American tourist in Europe pace but in a country with no infrastructure) we went down to the jungle area in the south of the country for a 2 day safari. We were staying in a beautiful lodge in the middle of the jungle, very atmospheric place, I felt like a British Explorer from the 19th century, all I was missing was the shotgun and hip flask. The views were spectacular but the wildlife took a little patience, we were hoping to see the elusive tiger, but we found him deserving of this adjective….. however we did see rhinos up close [father reading over my shoulder pshaws, ‘no rhinoceroses in India’, though you would think that Dan might know, if he got up close], crocodiles (the good ones i.e. herbivores [really, a herbivorous crocodile?]), deer (only in the distance, funny to think you try to avoid them in the Phoenix park and pay good money to see them in Nepal.) All in all it was a brilliant experience. From there we left for Pokhara, (Mum I think I saw the atlas in the drawing room) and that’s from where I write this email. Helen is flying back to Delhi on Friday morning and I’m going on a 6 day trek in the Annapurna mountain range, will report back afterwards. 

My sister’s take on my brother’s adventures is here.

My brother and sister called my parents from Kathmandu this morning.  My mother was delighted to hear that her ewe lamb had arrived safely in the Nepalese capital.  He asked whether she had got their email and she said no.  He began to double check that she had followed all the correct procedures for downloading when my sister snatched the mobile from him, muttering indignantly about the expense of giving this kind of advice on an Indian mobile from Nepal.  There’s a good joke there about call centres; fill in the blanks yourselves please.
When my brother headed off to visit my sister in India, I had the following conversation with my mother:

Her: So, he’s off to India this week.

Me: I’m sure he’ll have a great time.

Her: He’s been really fantastic since your father has been ill.

Me: Yes, he has been very good.

Her: To be honest, I’m a little worried about him going.

Me: I can imagine, but Daddy’s on the mend now.

Her: Oh no, not because of me and Daddy but you know, India, it’s so far away and so different.

Me:  But, but, your youngest daughter lives there.

Her (defensively): Well, it’s different for your brother, he might get ill.

Me: But, but, she was ill all the time.

Her: Well, your brother is very delicate.

Me: Gasp of outrage.

In conclusion, it is true what they say about Irish mothers and their sons and, apparently, sibling rivalry never really dies.