My Awkward Life | The Crow



My Awkward Life | The Crow

To my friends and loyal readers; AKA: one man, his dog Lionel and a girl from Eyeries; I have a confession to make: 

I write this post as a broken man; an ornithological hit-man, a disrupter of the Darwinian Theory and an enemy of the bird kingdom.  

This is My Awkward Life. 

Let’s just put it straight out there; I killed a crow today, by accident of course. 

I ran straight over him with my car, I heard a thump and then he was gone; I saw his lifeless body lying in the road through my rear-view mirror. 

It’s the first time that I’ve ever killed anything bigger than a spider and so, it came as a bit of a shock to my system. 

At first, I just thought that he was one of those prankster dare-devil crows that you sometimes meet; you know the ones; they wait until the last possible second to fly away to safety and you’re just left a big sweaty nervous mess behind the wheel. 

Those bastards. 

Unfortunately, for this particular crow though, he left it just a little too late to try and escape. 

Cool+side+of+the+pillow_ef150a_3247055I was on my way back from a work event; the sun was shining, the radio was blaring out summer songs and the breeze was as cool as the other side of the pillow. 

Yep, life was pretty grand.

I rounded the corner and that’s when I saw him.

The Crow. 

He was just standing there in the middle of my lane, doing crow things on his crow time. 

I kept thinking that he’d move, that’d he’d fly out of the way…

He didn’t. 

Legitimately, no word of a lie, I shouted the following sentence out loud to myself in my car:

“Get out of the way crow! You have to move! I’m going to hit you!” 

Picture that in your head, eh?

With cars coming past me on the other side of the road; I couldn’t maneuver out of the way, I could only position the middle of my car over him and hope that I’d pass harmlessly over…

This simple plan would have worked too if it hadn’t been for his meddling brain; poor stupid fool tried to up and fly away while by car was over him:





This fainest of noises could be heard as loud as a church bell inside my head as I quickly glanced in the rear-view mirror to check what had happened…

He was still alive when I looked back, trying in vain to move his wings and get off the road; it was not to be though and before I turned the corner and out of sight…I saw him stop moving altogether. 

Then, to show that the universe has either got some terrible timing or a sick sense of humour; this is actually line from the song that played as I caught my last glimpse of the bird:

“All these things that I have done” – The Killers. 

Heck, you really can’t write this stuff.

So now, my watch begins in this latest and saddest of all the episodes of My Awkward Life.

RIP, Mr Crow. 


Current Mood.

Hello darkness, my old friend. 




My Awkward Life | The Failed Cup Of Anything


My Awkward Life | The Failed Cup of Anything

This is not a terrific tale; this is certainly not even a tea-rrific tale; this is just a story of one man, a supermarket, bitter disappointment and a lesson learnt.

This is My Awkward Life. 

This tale of failure and social ineptitude begins, as a lot of my tales do, with me heading to some sort of fancy/non fancy occasion for work. 

The post on Facebook said that the event was due to start at 11am and so being the time diligent turtle that I am, I arrived bang on time at 11:15.

You know what they say; a wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.

Clearly in my head, I’ve replaced ‘wizard’ with ‘Fergus’ but you know, just run with it okay? 

No? Come on? Be cool…

Deal? Deal! 



Now, after realising that the actual official ribbon cutting for the shop wouldn’t be happening until 12, I had now got time to kill and so I meandered into town, fancying a nice cup of tea. 

Roysh, so to save myself from potential embarrassment, I won’t be naming the shop I was in; but here’s how my tale of failure goes:

I enter the shop and pass the security guard; it’s awkward as I had only been in this shop ten minutes previously to buy some pistachio nuts and now he’s probably thinking:

‘Hang on a second, why is that guy back so soon?’

It probably doesn’t help the situation that as I pass him, I’m rummaging through the bag of the aforementioned pistachios that I have stored in my pocket; I look shifty and suspicious, no question about it.

‘Play it cool, Dennehy, just play it cool; just find the tea counter and you’ll be golden’ I reassure myself. 

Looking like a confused sheep that has been suddenly roped into running for president and is now standing on a stage in front of the worlds press; I stand still for a second, looking bewildered as I try to glance around nonchalantly for where the magical and much desired cup of tea resides. 

‘AHA! Thar she blows!’ I cheer inwardly as I spy my white whale in the far corner. 

Heading over, with a renewed spring in my step, my heart sinks as the glossy sign above the station reads ‘GOURMET COFFEE’.

‘Curses!’ I mutter under my breath, my dislike of coffee has come back to bite me, it seems. 


Right, what to do now?

On the verge of quitting this quest altogether, I spy an option for ‘Hot Chocolate’ on one of the machines and my hope is renewed. 

Soon, after struggling for quite a few minutes to pull the paper cup from its holder, I press the option for ‘Hot Chocolate’ and we’re away in a hat and I’m already looking forward to the delicious chocolate warmth…


‘Why is there only milk pouring into my cup?’ 

‘Maybe they put the milk in first and the chocolate afterwards?’ 

‘That’s a lot of milk…’ 

‘Any second now, it has to…’ I reason with myself, expecting at any second now to see that brown liquid chocolate add itself to my drink.



The machine finishes its job and I’m just left staring at my drink.

‘Oh, God’ I whisper, staring at the now completely full large cup of frothy, curdling milk in my hands. 

‘This is not at all what I wanted; what do I do with THIS?’ 

That’s when I see the sign:


Well that explains it…

Realising that there’s someone behind me, I move away from the machine and cradle my drink in my hands, as if I actually care about it. 

Now very conscious of every employee in the store that could be watching me and that cursed security guard on my tale, I try to act as cool and ‘loosey goosey’ as possible.


Yes, yes we can.

‘Maybe, if I drink it, then they’ll think that I actually got the right drink and that I know what I’m doing’ I think to myself. 

‘No! You fool, you haven’t even paid for it…you can’t just go drink-stealing drinks…plus…it’s a cup of horrible looking steamed milk…’ my inner logic bites back.

‘Could I just pour it down a drain?’ I think, looking longingly over at the coffee machine drains;

‘They could work….or cause a blockage…or they could be decorative’ I ponder inwardly.

Looking around, I realise that I have only one other solution at this point…

So my friends; this is the tale of why there is now a large cup of frothy, curdling milk hidden deep in the recesses of the cold drink section of a certain shop here in town.

To the employee that finds it; know that I tried my best and I apologise. 

I left the shop empty handed and trudged back to the event; thirsty, disappointed but a little wiser nonetheless. 


This may be your reaction.








My Awkward Life | The Very Impressed Man


My Awkward Life | The Very Impressed Man

On this weeks all new and exciting episode; Darren invents a new word, Fergus buys an ice cream and someone somewhere answers a phone call.

This is My Awkward Life. 


Let’s begin. 

This is the tale of a man who was very impressed with something. 

Plus, me, who just happened to be there when he saw the thing that he was impressed by.

Impressed yet?


My Awkward Life | The Very Impressed Man

You betcha.

Anyway, let’s really begin this time.

Recently, I found myself with a few hours to spare from work, so I arranged to meet up with my recurring character friend; Darren ‘Tactical’ Truslove on his lunch break. 

Darren, who is currently interning/in a hotel here in town, was a man on a mission as he set about getting the prints on a reel of film, to quote his exact word, ‘denegatified’ for work. 

“Denegitified?” I asked him, “Is that a word? I don’t think it is…?”

“Shhhh, it is now!” he responded with a laugh. 

‘Denegitified, Denegitified, Denegitified…’ I repeated over and over in my mind, trying to get my head around both the spelling, knowing that it would bother me the rest of the day if I didn’t. 

‘I mean, how would you even go about defining that?’ I thought to myself, my mind now completely off topic as to what Darren was now talking about back in the real world.

*Insert Darren White Noise Here*

‘Could you say; taking the negative out of it maybe? That could work?’ I think. 

Somehow in the midst of my strange inner ramblings about the meaning of a made up word; my body, mouth and auto-pilot function had managed to keep up a relatively decent conversation with Darren throughout. 

I was in the clear!

(Well, until he reads this story that is; Hi Darren!)

With my apparent good conversational skills intact, we soon reached our destination; a local beauty shop which hides in its bowels, a photo processing centre. 

While Darren went up to explain what we needed done for work, I went about trying to look busy and not at all suspicious while standing in the shop on my own. 

That’s when I heard it. 

Mmmmhmmm, oh yes!” 

‘What the heck?’ I thought to myself. 

“Oh yes, mmmmhmmm, haha!”

I look around for the source of the noise and see a man, who by the looks of it must be  in his 70’s, staring up and down avidly at a display on the shelf, the contents of which I cannot see clearly from where I am. 

“Mmmmhmmm, yes, yes, yes! Mmmmmhmmmm!” this man continues, now bending down to look at the lower parts of the shelf, obviously very impressed with what he was seeing. 

‘Do I walk away from him? Do I ask him if he’s okay? I don’t really know the protocol here…’ I ask myself. 

‘He could be having a stroke? Are these the symptoms of a stroke? Making noises that sound like you’re impressed but really, you’re having a stroke?’ 

Right that second though, he gets up and just walks away and disappears around the corner. 

‘I have to know what he was looking at!’ I think, making my way casually over to the display; ‘What could have been so interesting that he—‘


Rows of condoms. 

The man, who looked to close to being in his mid-70’s and who was making very loud approval noises, was looking at rows and rows of boxes condoms. 

I mean, what do you say to that?


Oh, then myself and Darren bought ice-cream.

My Awkward Life | The Mysterious Baby


My Awkward Life | The Mysterious Baby

I was walking down the street this afternoon when a woman in front of me started talking loudly on the phone about a baby of some sorts that she knew.

Now, I’m certainly not someone who often follows random strangers down the street to listen to their conversations, but this time, I think it was acceptable.

I hope.

God, I sound like a right creep in this post.

I’m not, I swear.

Anyway moving on, this woman on the phone, she kept trying to say this one particular thing about the aforementioned toddler; but she was being constantly cut off mid sentence by what I could only guess was a very rude person on the other end of the line.

Just try to imagine yourself listening into this, be honest, you’d obviously want to know the full story aswell. Here’s how it played out:

“The baby is…”


“The baby is…”


“The baby is…”


Now, I was at this point far too invested in this woman’s story, all I wanted in the world at that moment was to find out what the end of her sentence was.

‘The baby is…what? The baby is…what? The baby is what? Finish your story woman!’ I inwardly pleaded with her.

I was just silently willing her on with all my might to finish her sentence, I NEEDED to find out the story of this infernal baby.

Sadly though, it was not to be.

‘Mysterious Baby Woman’, as she’s now been dubbed,  turned up a different street to me and now, I and consequently you reading this, will never know.


The baby is…gone.

My Awkward Life | The Traffic Lights


My Awkward Life | The Traffic Lights

We’ve been waiting at the traffic lights a while now, my group of ragtag companions and I.

Well when I say companions, I actually mean the two separate individuals that I have no affiliation or connection with whatsoever and who I have just happened to stand next to on the street. 

There’s the very sweaty, grumpy looking bald man who, of course, I’ve chosen to name Fred. 

Then we have the leather jacket man who has tattoos running up the back of his neck, a weather beaten face and eyes that have no doubt seen too much.

I’ve, as you can no doubt guess, named him Joseph (Duh).

You see, we’re trying to cross the road and right now, we’re really not having much success at all. 

As the closest one to the all important traffic light button, Joseph is of course the leader of our motley crew and the person that I assume has pressed the button to allow us to cross said road. 

Eh? Maybe not, it seems.

The little green man who lives in the traffic lights and controls the flow of people over his road bridge like some of fairy tale troll has seemingly decided today that: 

‘Nah mate, gonna call in sick; be grand’. 

That scoundrel. 

As I was a late arrival to our merry fellowship and this quest, I’m sort of out of the loop as what our ‘road crossing’ plan actually is as a result. 

‘I mean, has he even pressed the button?’ I think to my self, looking longingly over at the round metal device on the pole.

‘It’s entirely possible that he hasn’t…he might have just assumed, like me, that it had been pressed by someone else…I’ll just give it a few more seconds,’

‘This has been a really long wait…he mustn’t have pressed it…I mean, seriously…who doesn’t press the button straight away…’

Treasonous thoughts suddenly begin to creep into my psyche, my mind suddenly beginning to question the leadership of this Joseph character. 

‘Maybe I should press it…’ my hand twitching ever so slightly at the thought of this. 

‘No! I can’t be that guy who just comes along and presses the button when someone has clearly already pressed it! Those people are the worst…I can wait this out’ I reassure myself.

Another thirty seconds passes with no sign of the little green man and his traffic slowing down abilities…

‘This is the longest that anyone has ever had to wait…ever. Why has no-one else (AKA Fred) not noticed this wait?’

I glance over at my bald headed companion and nothing; not a single look of wonder or confusion on his face about the delay.

‘Classic Fred move; cool as a cucumber that fellow, can’t phase him’ I think.

‘That’s it, I’m pressing it and to hell with Joseph and this social etiquette!’ I decide as I move toward the button and salvation

Suddenly though, a movement across the street stops me dead in my tracks.

A businessman, dressed immaculately in a pin striped suit, saunters up and just presses his own button, cool as you like.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. 

All of a sudden, the lights turn red, traffic stops and we’re crossing the road, all in the blink of an eye. 

‘Well, that escalated quickly’ I think. 

Now, in the end, I’ll never know whether it was the businessman pressing it that allowed us to cross or whether Joseph had actually pressed it originally and it just took a while to register, I guess that’s just part of the mystery of it all. 

Myself, Fred and Joseph all went our seperate ways at at the other side, I mean, we all had actual things to do that day.

And while we’d never actually spoken a single word to each other and they’d never ever know what silly part they played in the silly drama inside my head, we would forever be bonded as those people that waited far too long to cross a simple street. 

Peace out, hombres. 


That’s an exit.

My Awkward Life | The Small Talk

MeI’m sitting in Four Star Pizza, waiting for my order to be ready.

Because I’m sitting here at a table on my own, it’s obvious that I’m just here to collect my pizza and head away.

What is also painfully obvious is that I’m currently the only customer in the whole restaurant, I mean, it’s literally  just me, a lot of empty tables and the people working here.

Which of course makes all of my movements all the more noticeable.

So, not wanting to seem like the ‘impatient, desperate for pizza’ type in front of the Four Star employees behind the counter, I decide a plan is needed. 

‘Right, I can’t let them think anything of me, except normal things’ I think so obviously I decide that I should adopt a relaxed/devil-may-care air about me while I wait. 

Slide down a little in the seat? 


Stretch my arms out casually? Check.

Bring up Facebook on my phone so and scroll idly through my news-feed to look like I’m occupied? 

Check, check, check. 

“Excuse me sir? Did you say you wanted chicken on that?” asks the Four Star employee from behind the counter?

“I did indeed, that’d be perfect, thanks” I reply nonchalantly. 

‘God damn it Dennehy, you are being one smooth son of a gun right now! You answered that like some sort of professional relaxed person, we are in the clear here buddy!’ I think proudly to myself. 

“Hey man, how are you?” comes a voice from across the room. 

Glancing up only for a second, I only see a delivery man for Four Star standing there and not knowing anyone that works here, I decide that it can’t be me he’s talking to and so I go back to looking busy on my phone. 

“Man, what’s up?” the delivery guy says again, this time coming straight over to me. 

I glance up again, completely not mentally ready for any sort of conversation and realise, ‘Sheeeit, I know this guy’s face…but not his NAME’. 

‘Think quickly!’ I tell myself. 

“Hey DUDE, how are you getting on?” I say back all too quickly, my words mashing together like a crowd on a dance floor. 

“Ahh I’m not doing too bad now. What about you?” he says, in a perfectly calm and easy going tone. 

‘This guys got the small talk skill nailed down’ I think inwardly. 

“I’m grand out sure….and you?” I say back, before realising my mistake…


Oh, God.

“Uh, I’m good…” he says, now looking me a little strangely, “I’m working away sure,” he continues.

“Yeah, ha it’s…uh…got to be done though” I say, my laugh coming out a little too forced, my eyes contact now having drifted from his face to the floor. 

“Right, I better be off, see you around…” he says as he walks out. 

“Cool, cool,” I respond in garbled English, as my pride mind descends into a hell of embarrassment.  

A few minutes later, my pizza is ready, I thank the pizza girl in a carefully measured tone (having been practicing it for the last few minutes in my head) and off I head.

I am the awkward bee. 


What is life…


Some Truly Excellent (Terrible) Puns


‘Pun Dog’ knows the game.

I made some truly excellent puns a while back, here’s the story behind it all: 

I attended a party in Killarney a few months back, it was for my grand-uncle’s 85th birthday and it turned out to be an excellent evening, full of reunions with cousins, aunts, uncles and everyone in between.

While I was there though, the conversation reached a point that all conversations reach at one point or another; the dreaded Lull or Silence. 

We all have experiences of this Lull; one minute, the conversation is fast flowing and witty and everyone is ‘on point’ as they say, when suddenly, WHAM.


A silence that goes on a little longer than anyone in the group is comfortable with, a silence that needs to be filled before it borders on that word we all strive to avoid using:


The following excellent (terrible) puns were borne by me, out of such a silence.

Feel free to laugh out loud and or share them with your pun hating friends. 



Fork you.


It really was.


Are you cringing yet?


A particular favourite of mine.


Still going strong.






A weak moment.


He rallies!


I can see a smile stretching across your face, don’t deny it.


Orange you?




It really was, I hope you survived it.

Wow, thanks for reading this far down, you’re the real MVP.