Story?

Right so, this week I attended the Student Media Awards (Smedias) in the Mansion House in Dublin. I was up for two awards – Blog of the Year and Colour Writer of the Year (for my articles for TCD Miscellany, all of which have been posted on here). I must say a quick thanks to Oxygen.ie and all the sponsors for making the night possible.

While I’m at it, thanks to the people who nominated me for the Irish Blog Awards. I got a few nominations (sadly I didn’t get further than that stage!) and I really appreciated these, so thanks to whoever took the time to nominate me. My delicate ego loves a grooming now and again. Apologies for not doing this before now.

Anyway, the Smedia awards. I prepared the way I imagine everyone does for these things – drinking. Not much, just the shower-beer (something I highly recommend to everyone) and a couple on the way. I was fairly dapper looking, and when we got to the Mansion House there was a nice atmosphere. People were mingling and wishing each other luck. This would have been appreciated by me if I hadn’t needed to use the bathroom so desperately.

I guess I take this sort of thing for granted. You could be being crowned king of the world, with millions of admirers literally worshipping you, but you just couldn’t enjoy it if you were dying for a piss.

Once we got inside, I relieved myself and began to relax more. There were vouchers for free drinks. Sadly the free drinks were new Bulmers Berry, which is shit. I’m also wary of new Bulmers products. When Bulmers Pear first came out, it apparently had quite a strong laxative effect (I wouldn’t know, being a Guinness man).

So anyway, I began getting through these free drinks. This meant another trip to the bathroom before the ceremony even began. I’d broken the seal. Rookie mistake.

It was at the urinals that I realised I’d made another rookie mistake. I was wearing quite light grey slacks. I really liked them, but I didn’t trust their ability to conceal wayward urine drops. Firstly, there’s the risk of splashback at the urinals. This is the worst thing ever, as it’s not your fault at all – it’s the fault of the poorly designed urinals.

But, another worry crossed my mind. A rarer, but potentially disastrous thing. I don’t expect women to understand this. Men will. I know this. You see, sometimes after urinating, particularly at a urinal, when you’re not at your most cautious, you can sometimes suffer what I call “post-piss leakage”.

This is when you have a nice relaxing whizz, shake away, and think you’re all done. You tuck the old boy back in, begin zipping up, but then you feel an unexpected drop. This does not happen often, but it’s not a nice feeling when it does. It’s never a large volume either, so even if it does happen, it’s generally nothing to be concerned about.

However, I noted that the trousers I was wearing were just the kind of trousers that would make it obvious if this had happened. So then I had to be careful at the urinals all night. Then there was the (admittedly small) chance that the Bulmers Berry was a bit of a laxative. What if I gambled on a fart and lost? Fucking light trousers. Never again. I knew there was a reason I usually stick with dark trousers. You just never know.

Anyway, I managed to get through the whole night without needing a nappy.

I met some of the other nominees in my categories. They were all very nice people, which obviously was annoying. Then you feel bad about wishing them good luck and not meaning it at all. It’s customary to say “good luck” in that sort of situation, but then you’re thinking “Not really. Actually, technically, I wish you bad luck. Not in life or anything, just in the awards.”

Both my awards were being announced before the half way point of the ceremony.

It was a new experience for me. I was a little excited about having my name announced and clapped, and seeing my name (and blog URL) on the big screen behind.

It’s pretty nerve-wracking though.

You can’t help but feel nervous.

In the moments before the winner is announced, a lot of stuff runs through your mind.

I’m not going to win, I know it. I’m glad anyway. I’d hate to have to make a speech. I’d definitely cock up a speech. And I’d have to walk to the stage, with everyone looking at me. I’d probably trip up or start walking all funny, like when you’re walking by a group of youths hanging around outside Tesco and you suddenly feel all conscious of how you walk.

What if I win though? I could win, I have as good a chance as anyone like. And I’m up for two. If I don’t win one I still might get the other. This could give me a boost. An award would give me some credibility like. I might get to speak to media people and charm my way into a job somehow. This could be the stepping-stone I need to get me a career in writing stuff. Imagine. Being paid to write. I could laze around in my boxers all day, then whip up a brilliant article at the last minute and then get paid for it.

Imagine I got really big and everyone loved me. I might have to go on the Late Late show sometime. That’d be class. I’d get Dad to tape it for me. Walking out on stage would be tough though. Worse than that time I won the Smedia awards, as this time it’s on TV to the whole country. Also, I haven’t won a Smedia award yet.

I’d definitely try crack jokes on the Late Late though. Then someone would upload it to youtube and I could read everyone’s comments. There might be some girls saying how funny I am and how they love me. I’d probably have to put extra privacy settings on my facebook because I’d be getting so famous.

Then I’d write a book because publishers would all be fighting over me because everyone loves me so much. Then the book would be made into a film. My fans would be all “I hope it doesn’t ruin the book for me”, and I’d be all reassuring like “Don’t worry guys, I’m on set everyday making sure it’s staying true to the book”. Then I’d be minted. I’ll keep my feet on the ground though. Definitely. Just because I’m so famous and rich and lusted-after doesn’t mean I’m any different.

I wonder if I’d get into a relationship with another celebrity.

But then you don’t win any of your awards, because the world is a horrible place, and you go home and wish you’d never been born.

So, that was a little disappointing. Thankfully, I’ve found something to relate to, and to help get me through this difficult period. It’s a song. Something about the lyrics really speak to me, and remind me that I’ll be okay. Here is that song.

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25 April 2010 ‧ For The Lolz, Life etc. ‧ 2 Comments