Kat’s Eye #84 – “Bleech”


I saw this discarded shopping list in the wine aisle of my local supermarket. I love finding things like this and getting a tiny insight into someone else’s life. It’s a bit similar to my love of peeping at what people have in their shopping trolleys.

The word-nerd in me is slightly irritated by the misspelling of bleach!


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Things That Piss Me Off…

In typical Irish melancholy style, and to provide some counterbalance to my last upbeat post about things that make me happy, I present a list of some of the things that piss me off…


Or not…

Up to you!


Door blockers

Situation: I am trying to get into a shop.

Two women go through the door just ahead of me and abruptly stop dead.

They are now in the shop. Their mission appears to be accomplished.

I have no idea if they ever intend to actually leave the doorway and truly enter the shop.

I am left frustratedly hovering behind them as they chat, rummage through their bags, or allow their gaze to drift, slack-jawed, across the shop floor.

Excuse me”, I say, my polite tone incongruous with the annoyance I feel inside. They shuffle an inch, maybe two, just enough for me to squeeze by.

Seriously, what is the deal with people who stop dead as soon as they pass the doorway?  This is something I simply do not understand.


Slow packers in a queue

Situation: The woman ahead of me has paid for her groceries. In her own infinite wisdom she has opted to delay packing her purchases until the entire transaction is completed.

An impatient checkout operator begins to scan my items through.

I now am faced with the dilemma.

Do I act nonchalant and stay cool, calm, chilled?

Or do I give in to my fear of having my groceries stolen before my very eyes and rush ahead and try to salvage my purchases from being packed away by the woman next to me?

Panic wins, always.

I will add to this category people who, once they have finished their shopping transaction, remain chatting to the checkout operator as if this were a social gathering rather than a supermarket.

Is there not enough time to chat as the groceries are being scanned?

What morsel of extremely important information must you dawdle to share? Seriously, get your stuff and leave!


People who hit their kids in public

I cannot condone ever slapping, hitting or using any form of violence against any person or any animal. I do not understand why some people think it is ok to slap a child but agrees it is unacceptable to hit another adult.

Given my dislike for corporal punishment I get particularly angry with people who hit or scream at their children in public places. I can surely understand the frustration and embarrassment a parent must feel when their little bundle throws a tantrum, but publicly shaming and demeaning them will not make the situation any better.

A distressed, tired or frustrated child is not going to be calmed or quieted by adding more chaos to the situation in the form of violence or shouting.

I am picturing my readers now shaking their heads saying, “well she doesn’t have kids”.

True, but I can assure you I was once a kid, who was hit and shouted at, and to contradict many pro-slapping parents, it did me a great deal of harm.


Paying for parking

Situation: I am going to large shopping centre.

I intend to spend money there. Perhaps a lot of money.

How dare they charge me to park there!

The sheer cheek of this place to expect me to pay for the privilege to spend my hard earned money in their premises!

This particularly annoys me when it comes to the cinema, which already shamelessly fleeces customers with their insanely expensive tickets and don’t even get me started on the refreshments!

Blood boiling.




Slow walkers

I walk fast.

I have somewhere to be.

I find dawdling frustrating, even when I’m out for a ‘stroll’ with the OH.

People who walk as if following a funeral hearse make me want to purchase a cattle prod and use it.

People who text as they walk, resulting in a slow, stumbling zombie shuffle are at increased risk of my cattle prod.

If you want to text, stop walking, pull over to the side of the pavement and text. Then walk, at a reasonable pace please.

That is all.


Inattentive shop assistants

Thankfully, since the recession has embraced Ireland in it’s icy grip, the scourge of this snooty species has been depleted.

There was a time, not so long ago, that upon entering a shop, the assistant would cast you a scornful glance and then studiously avoid eye contact with you.

God forbid you needed help or dared to ask a question. Then you would receive the slow eye roll and sigh as they begrudgingly turned in your direction.

Alternatively there were the assistants who insisted on staying on the phone chatting, rather than serve you. You had to stand there at the counter with your desired purchase and cash in your sweaty little hand and endure being completely ignored, oftentimes as they continued to maintain eye contact with you, just to rub it in.

But as I say, the recession has seen an end to this rude behavior.  Pressure to hold on to a job has resulted in better customer service. These days shop assistants actually talk to you and, wait for it, say, “have a good day”, at the end of the encounter.

About time!


Sky box fails

I love Sky +.

I love that I can record entire series at the touch of a button.

Pausing live TV? Brilliant idea!

I love to stockpile some of  my favourite shows to binge watch. I am at a loss to express my dismay when I access my menu only to be greeted by the dreaded words, “incomplete recording”.



Why Sky box would you let me down so badly!

All I want is to watch my programme!

The frustration is unbearable.

Damn you Sky box!

Damn you!

Bad dog parents

I adore my dog Lily.

She is treated as a vital part of the family.

Due to her sensitive stomach, I regularly cook up an enormous stinky concoction of ,(vet approved), fresh food for her, which I portion out and freeze.

She is groomed daily, and visits her professional groomer for a trim as often as I go to my hairdressers.

On the whole, she has a pretty amazing life here.

I take her for her daily walk and observe other dog parents. It breaks my heart to see lovely little dogs with matted dirty fur and clogged up sticky eyes. It leaves me wondering why these people have a dog if they are not willing to care for it correctly?

However it is the irresponsible dog parents that madden me most. They walk their dog, allowing it to relieve itself on public paths and pavements and merrily continue on their way leaving behind a large, stinking pile of dog mess. Have they never heard of poop bags? Do they consider themselves above picking up after their pooches? Perhaps they think my neighbourhood is their own personal latrine?

The reason for their laziness/disregard for others is irrelevant.

The fact remains that it is unhygienic, dangerous and simply selfish to not clean up after your dog on a walk.

How would they like it if I turned up to their house, dropped my pants and took a massive shit on their carpet I wonder?

Dog parents… bring along your poop bags and use them! 💩


I invite you all to consider this a safe place to vent your fury at the little niggles in life that make your blood boil.

Let loose!





Shop Assistants and Me… Part III


Honestly, my local branch employs some very odd and peculiar folk.

There is the giant older gentleman with the deep bass Barry White voice, who towers over customers and insists on teaching us how to use the self-service checkout every single time, talking us through steps we already know as if we are children, or maybe he sees us as just plain feebleminded.

Next is the relentlessly happy and very loud Nigerian lady who laughs vociferously throughout the entire checkout experience, shouting comments to co-workers and other shoppers as she scans customers’ items.

Memorably, there is one checkout girl in my local Tesco that, how do I put this, rocks a very, and I mean very, butch vibe. Seriously, she could make Russell Crowe appear girly.  Now, we have all enjoyed the 25% back offer if you buy 6 bottles of wine or more, yes? I use it as an opportunity to stock up on my favourites. So what that it was 11.30am and I was buying multiple bottles of Cab Sav?

One morning, as my collection of wine was being scanned through, she looked up at me, all Princess Diana seductive doe-eyes, winked, cocked her decidedly unplucked eyebrow, grinned and said, “You’re going for it tonight then?”

I mumbled something about it not all being for one go and she continued, “I can do a bottle and a half myself, and that’s me gone!”, and other wink.  As they say in the best tabloids, I made my excuses and left.

However the winner for today’s post is The Very Strange Woman, as my OH and I have christened her.

She sits.

Slouched… emitting a menacing air.

Face like thunder.

Staring you down as you place your shopping on the conveyor belt.

No word of greeting will emerge from her lips.

Then it begins…

As she scans, she inspects every single item as if she has never before encountered such a wondrous thing.

As a chimpanzee inspects new food or tools, she manipulates each purchase with slack-jawed wonder. Then, when she has decided she has sufficiently assimilated this new information, she offers you your purchase, by hand no less, and moves on to the next fascinating item.

Needless to say, after a few visits, we now avoid her checkout, but we do enjoy watching other unsuspecting shoppers fall foul of her scrutiny…

I will return with more tales of my odd encounters in shops, stay tuned!



(I do have one more tale, which I will reserve for a post of its own, involving a tarantula… stay tuned!)

Shop Assistants and Me… Part II


Since us Irish were hit full force with the recession and have accordingly ceased having ‘notions’* about ourselves, Lidl and Aldi have become the New Black in shopping terms.

Who amongst us can say they haven’t popped in for a discounted free-range chicken and come out with a hovercraft or an **angle grinder?

I have found that I always seem to end up at the checkout line of the most stunningly beautiful Polish girl.

(I say Polish, I haven’t a clue really, but let’s just go with it…)

Her ethereal face is perfectly proportioned, fine boned and almost feline.

She has a very unsettling habit of making direct eye contact with me as soon as I join the queue, then she constantly glances away momentarily, only to return to a dead-eyed stare right into my eyes.

It is impossible to look away once she turns those ice cold blue eyes on me.

I have never seen her smile. Ever.

I smile, and always say hello when it’s my turn at the till. She replies with a barely perceptible nod.

She continues to just stare at me… as if trying to read my mind, or see the secrets of my soul.

I remain kind of scared of her, but drawn to her at the same time.

One day, one day I will make her smile…



* Notions: an Irishism describing people who have ideas above their stations, delusions of grandeur.

** You will find the angle grinder is a useful aide in getting rid of past spontaneous ‘bargains’ at a later date.

Shop Assistants and Me… Part I

The delicious Belgian chocolate chain, Leonidas, has a teeny tiny kiosk in a shopping center near me. Whenever I am there, I pop by to get my favourite Cherry chocolate.

Well, I tell a fib here. I make my OH get the chocolate for me.

The kiosk is run by a TOTALLY hot, French guy. He wears tight white tee-shirts and smiles a lot. He has dark shaggy hair, sallow skin and soft brown eyes. His forearm muscles flex alluringly as he works the coffee machine. His voice alone is enough to make me melt. In my head I call him, Michel.

One time I was buying my treats, in fact the last time I ever bought any myself, and he said something to me. I couldn’t quite catch it and asked him to repeat it. Once again I didn’t understand a word he had said, possibly because I was feeling flushed and flustered that he had spoken to me at all. I didn’t ask him again, but rather, I cocked my head in the universal, “Beg your pardon?” gesture.

Oh god no! I still couldn’t decipher his Gallic accent.

Rather than ask him to repeat himself a forth time, I did the customary and socially polite thing…

“Yes! Haha!”, I flashed a big smile and nodded my head vigorously.

Bad Decision.

He just looked at me blankly and handed me my chocolate.

Tumbleweed moment…

Whatever it was that he had said to me was obviously not best answered with an enthusiastic and grinning reply.

I took my chocolates and shuffled away red-faced.

I have never been able to summon up the courage to return to the kiosk, having made such a faux pas.

I remain clueless to this day as to what he said. Suggestions on postcard please!

Instead, I linger and ogle him from afar, as my OH buys me my sweet delights.

Oh and as if my humiliation was not complete enough…

The OH caught me last time and made a slightly unkind quip about him being a bit young for me anyway… bitter chocolate.