Wednesday, September 19, 2012

get me the eff out of here

After much himming and hawing and dragging my feet and making excuses, I am finally doing it. 

I am applying to grad school. 

Because I need to get the f**k out of here like now.

Ok so I haven't gotten very far. At the moment I've only started the process for one school, but that's one more than I had before so yeah I'd say that's progress. 

But I need some help. And I cannot think of anyone better to ask than YOU, my precious readers. Because each of you probably supports me more than everyone else in my life combined. 

I was going to go for a masters in creative writing (and still might; one step at a time here...), but part of me has always fought this notion because I already have a bachelors degree in creative writing and so if I'm going back to school I should try for something different. And so for my first application, I am trying for something different. 

I've been taking photos for nigh on twelve years now, and have never had a chance to do very much with it. It seems to me like a masters in fine arts (specifically, photography) might be a good choice. Lord knows what the heck I'm going to do with such a degree later, but sure by the time I get it I'll be as far away from New Jersey as I can manage and it won't matter anyway. 

What your humble narrator needs help with is deciding which 20 photographs to submit with her application. I realize this is asking a lot (because it's asking for some of your free time, and such things are very valuable), but I would be eternally grateful (most likely with fun things sent to you via post at some point in future) if y'all would take some time to go check out my photos and tell me which (if any because honestly I think maybe I'm kidding myself here...?) I should include in the application, and leave a comment as to your choice(s). 

Thanks my lovelies. ♥ ♥ 

Thursday, September 13, 2012


For ONE MORE DAY, Underwood is available FOR FREE on Kindle. Read if you like, and/or tell your friends!!!

If you don't have a Kindle, you can still read Underwood on your computer--Amazon has a load of free apps

Monday, September 10, 2012

a kitty update....

...just so I don't leave y'all hanging...

Ginger was taken, as I thought he might be. But I ended up falling in love with the fluffy kitty I met on Friday, so it's worked out nicely I think. 

Here's the photo I took of her:

Hopefully I get to bring her home by the end of the week. ^__^ 

And I shall call her Anck-su-Namun, because a cat should have a grand, fancy name. (And also because I am a giant nerd.)

Friday, September 7, 2012

Pick up that stereo and sink it deep within your body.

I was going to have a good whinge about being suicidally depressed, but I hate being a debbie-downer so I'll save y'all that particular narrative.

I went to meet some kitties yesterday.


The 6-month-old cat I went to meet fled the moment I walked in the door and would not come out again ("affectionate and a real cuddler" MY REAR), so instead I played with the 10+ kittens, not really sure I even wanted to get another cat yet, not sure whether I wanted a kitten or a more grown up cat, not really sure about anything at all.

Until this one particular little ginger kitten made it his mission in life to try and remove my skirt and, failing that, trying to climb up my skirt.

I didn't think I'd actually bond with a cat that was not Callisto. And I had not planned on even considering male cats. But

He curled up on my shoulder and closed his eyes and purred. And then when I put him down, he sat by my feet and cried.

But someone had already arranged to go to the lady's house today to see that cat specifically and decide if they want him. T.T
I find out if they're taking him tonight. I'm going to meet a couple other cats after work, including this one:

But I really want to take the ginger one. I've named him already and everything (not saying it out loud/on the internet because I'll jinx myself). I'm a giant ball of nerves right now and I need a distraction, so...........

KillerCupcake's (READ, she's hysterical) recent post inspired me to b*tch about the obscene amount of epic fail driving around on the roads of Northern New Jersey.

Our geographical location makes for a pretty huge mix of different types of drivers.

We've got the typical Jersey drivers (very similar in attitude to New York City taxi drivers, only we know how to tailgate better and can take 90-degree turns at speeds in excess of 50 mph without flipping our SUV's), and of course we've got the typical Annoying Drivers (old people, women, Asians, teenagers...), but the thing about the rest of the people on the roads of North Jersey is that most of them are from somewhere else. Like

4. New York City - These a-holes who live and drive in NYC occasionally feel the need to pollute NJ roads with their inability to drive faster than 40 mph or use turn signals. I guess the lack of gridlock and the long, clear stretches of road in front of their cars makes them nervous, or something?

3. Paterson/Newark/Spring Valley, NY/etc/etc - It might be you hear the thumping of their sub woofers a mile before you see them in your rearview mirror, but personally I think it's more likely that you'll hear the roar of the souped up engine of their

1992 Honda Civic.

Biggest mystery of my life. If you've got the money to customize your POS Honda until it sounds like a consumptive jet engine, then why don't you just get something fun like a Mustang or a Charger??

2. Ireland - Pearl River, NY sits right on the border of New York and New Jersey, and is full of about 90% straight-off-the-boat Irish. Plus there's all the random Irish peeps in North Jersey in general.

No one will ever tailgate you like an Irish driver. We can remain at a constant 1/4-inch away from your bumper at 80+ mph. And we will. For the entire duration of your trip, should we happen to be going in the same general direction. Being more Yankee than Irish, my tailgating skills aren't quite up to the Expert level yet. And I also try to exhibit a bit more patience with the drivers in front of me, and NOT tailgate them if they are going the speed limit or above.

But you could be going 75 down the county highway at the end of the month when it's crawling with cops, and you can bet that pale gobshite behind you with the New York plates--the one who looks so close in the rearview mirror that you can see his pores--will ride your arse all the way to the mall. Because in Ireland, no one really cares about speed limits, and everyone knows how to exceed the speed limit on extremely narrow, winding country roads. So if you can't exceed the speed limit by at least 50mph on a highway or main road, you deserve to be tailgated.

I'm not even exaggerating. By way of example, last time I was in the car with my cousin Lorna, she was doing 135 on a road with a blind corner every 100 feet, and only just wide enough to allow two cars to pass next to each other. At night. In a place with no streetlights.

 And my Uncle C was famous in our family because he could drive from Achill to Dublin in 3 hours and 15 minutes, WITH stops for food and the loo. And that was before they put in most of those highways.

1. - If you're driving along on a road in North Jersey and suddenly come up behind a car going 15 mph with their blinker on, swerving frequently into the other lane and slamming on their brakes every time they pass a cross street, 9 times out of 10 that car in front of you

is from Massachusetts.

Like seriously.

What's wrong with you people.

There's these awesome things called maps and atlases. Now we even have Google Maps and navigation systems for feck's sake. And if somehow you still manage to be lost, when you see a long line of angry motorists behind you, PULL THE F*CK OVER AND LET THEM PASS YOU.

Anyone out there from Massachusetts care to explain yourselves?