Snap Print Are Wankers

I've always had it in for Snap Print, they've always been a crowd of wankers as far as I'm concerned. With the odd exception of a few choice employees, they've always just been awkward and expensive. When I was in college in Athlone, I always avoided Snap, because there was quite a few printers around, printing dirt cheap for the college students.

Today I ended up in Snap on Dame Street, because I had to print out the finished collage for my godmother. I wouldn't put anyone through the hassle of going in to get something printed, it can be traumatic at the best of times, so I decided I'd do it for her. Off the top of my head, the only place in Dublin I could think of was Snap, so I went there first.

Apparently I'm the first person in Dublin to drop in to get something printed for myself, as opposed to needing a bulk amount. I was promptly informed that not only do Snap not print for us mere individuals (according to incredibly-rude-and-uptight-clerk, Snap only deal with giant businesses), but they do not have the technology, nor the cop on to print just one copy. I told him that yes, Snap do print one copy, as this is not my first time here, and the website encouraged me to just drop in, that they could handle all my printing needs, no matter how small.

Like I said, I'm obviously the first person ever, because he had that confused facial expression that only the staff of Argos seem to be able to pull off. Maybe it has something to do with the failed career choices of both companies. He seemed baffled that an ordinary person would try and print one copy of something, in a digital printers? How bizarre! What was I even doing trying to print something A3? Did I not know that only highly-skilled graphic designers print things at A3? I informed him that I was in fact one of these highly skilled graphic folk, at which point he suddenly got a business hard-on and then started frantically trying to tell me about deals, and started waving a business card in my face. No thank you, Mister Wanker. If you can't print one, how can I trust you to print mass amounts? I'll take my printing business elsewhere.

When the clerk thought I was just an average Joe Soap trying to print summit from teh internet, he advised me to get it printed from an Internet cafe, or (check this out for great advice) print out two A4 pages, and staple them together. Oh Snap, now I remember why I hate you. So off I went to Reads on Nassau Street - not the bookshop, the printers a bit further down - where I haven't been since I was in 6th year of school. Reads was what I imagine a fire in a pet shop would sound like, with all the staff running back and forth shouting various printing terms at each other, ''RGB! PDF! JPG! CMYK!'' I kind of wandered through, clutching my USB key until I found the ''disc printing waiting area'' which seemed like what I was looking for. Eventually I got some help, after being left waiting there for nearly half an hour. What you save in cash at Reads, you pay for in time standing around like a spare part, in everyones way, and a little bit dazed. A member of staff also warned me that there was a renegade wasp, somewhere in the shop - so look out. Well that makes me want to sit down and relax. While I was waiting for my print, I sat myself down between two blokes, both printing flyers.

On the right hand side of me, a baldy bloke in his 40s (maybe 30s, but he looked a bit battered by life) was printing trendy flyers and was proper proud of himself. I had to laugh, he turned to me and said ''wow'', and I was that pissed off at the print industry I snapped ''what?'' at him. He turns to me, and I shit you not, he said ''I'm just so shocked at how beautiful you are.'' All you can say at a time like that is ''er... ok.. thanks.'' I've never been chatted up in a printers before, it's not exactly my idea of romanance. He repeated this several times, seeming shocked, and a little sad, at how gorgeous I apparently am. Not to sound vain, believe me, I was surprised to be found attractive by a stranger in a printers, but listen buddy, if I didn't react the first time, repeating it won't get you anywhere.

It being 1 0'clock in the day, he asked me what I was going to be doing later, and he just had to take me for dinner. I said thank you, again, but no thank you, I have a lovely boyfriend. (who as I was blogging, brought me tea and toast, because I'm poorly with a cold) At which point, Mr Bald proceeded to pry into the boyfriend's life. ''Where is he now? What does he do? Let me take you out and I'll show you how much better I am.'' Well I can tell you I didn't meet my boyfriend in a printers, and he didn't hit me with a cheesy line, and he certainly didn't hassle me into going out with him. (he bought me pick n' mix and played my favourite electro pop in work for me *swoon*) Luckily, my print was done at this point, so I quickly left, only to realise my print was all pixelated, meaning I had to return home and fix it. And I'll have to return to Reads tomorrow to get it printed again. I hope Mr Bald isn't there, he'll probably think it's fate.

In optical news, my monthly contact lenses are blinding me, so I'm wearing my glasses until I can afford to go back to daily's. They may be more expensive, but at least they don't make my eyeballs itch. Pleasant. One of the sereval thousand jobs I've applied for is actually in an opticians, so fingers crossed - discount dailies!

In job news, while I was doing my daily job search, I noticed Hairspray are looking for staff. Dream Job. So I squealed, and applied with gusto. Please, job Gods, give me that job. Amen.

Between my eyeball pain, and an oncoming cold, I've been feeling a bit blerghh today, but I collected the boyfriend from work in Henry Street. Today was the last day I'll be collecting him from there, he starts a new improved position in Swords tomorrow. We did a bit of window shopping in the usual places, then headed home and then he made me mah favourite dinner, burger sandwiches. Yum.

I felt so rubbish I had to go for a nap, but I woke up just in time to catch the football (sarcastic ''woo''). I don't like football, but I like watching himself watch it. He's very funny, he even shouts at the telly. Himself is a football hooligan. Any excuse to look at Stevie G's arse is fine by me, yes I'm a Liverpool supporter by association. I'm the only girl I know who's allowed look at another mans arse, if it means he gets to watch as much football as he likes, and we can watch it together. That's a fine deal in my books.

I'm all happy and full of tea now. I got a good look at Stevie's arse, and the boyfriend seems happy. I'm not sure if we won or not, I was too busy typing. Oops. Anyway, roll on tomorrow, when Hotpress comes out, and the nation gets to see my Mister in all his DJing glory.

Plan for the rest of the night: drink more tea, eat jammy wagon wheels, and watch Rock Of Love Bus.

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Edit: We did win said match. Hooray!