Pro tip of the day: screen your calls when you’re trying to burn a body.

YOU GUUUUUYYYYSSSSSSSS

Harry Kane is laid up with an injury for at least THREE MONTHS. Tottenham Hotspur is FINISHED. The English national team is FINISHED. 

It was bad enough we lost Hugo Lloris to a horrific injury. His goalkeeping skills are so good, we all turned a blind eye to his being....... 

....
......:::shudders:::...
..

.......

...French.

The English and the French have a very strange relationship. Like we don't ACTUALLY hate each other, it's just a mutual arch nemesis relationship that goes back to when people first settled in what is now France and Britton. I grew up in this mindset, so maybe that's why I never understand why people get all uppity when the French and the English have a savage go at each other. 

But because people looooooooovvee feeling offended, someone tried to start an internet fight with me on Reddit after I made a clearly in jest comment about hating the bloody French. Turned out alright though, as an English person and a French person stepped in to try and explain that we don't really mean it*.

Stepmom has been in my life since I was 4 years old. Thus she has had 30+ years to observe and understand Dad's extreme Britishness. But for some reason, whenever me and the sibs and Dad start ranting about the French, Stepmom just gets confused into stunned silence. 

Or occasionally, "What is the issue with French people?!? Do any of you even know a French person?!?!?"

MOM SERIOUSLY that's not the point.

Dad, this past week:

Dadum and I have now added the rugby subscription to our tv sports app thing. Had to be done, as MY COUSIN is playing for the Worcester Warriors. 

The family that just moved in across the street are Arsenal fans. We always wear our team jerseys on weekends, and thus we now have an unspoken Football Team War. I'm thinking of buying a Spurs flag to hang in my living room window, which faces their bedroom window. 

In other news, I MIGHT get Gyr back at the end of the week. I also definitely have a lawsuit. The first MRI showed a herniated disc and some other long medical terms that mean my spine is crushing the living daylights out of my sciatic nerve, hence CONSTANT pain shooting from my lower back down to my left knee. The hip joint has been feeling slightly better, but not nearly 100% yet. I go for an MRI of said hip on Friday. 

The orthopaedist was honest with me, which I appreciate. Based on the MRI of my back, the notes sent to him by my physical therapist, and all of the continuing symptoms, it is very likely that this will not get better. The next step as far as pain management will be injections/epidurals to the spine and hip. If that stops working down the road, I might need surgery. 

The one and only upshot to this is that it could potentially mean a fairly large settlement from the other driver's insurance company. I'm not looking for some absurd amount of money, but it would be nice if I could actually pay off all of my debt. 

I don't remember the last time I didn't owe fewer than five figures in debt. Until that is paid off, I will never have any savings. and because I have no money saved, whenever something extremely expensive comes up unexpectedly, I have to charge it to a credit card. I can't even cash in on my tax returns--because I live in NY and work in NJ, come tax return season, I end up owing the State of New York a sum about as much as what I get back from the federal tax return. And I get nothing back from New Jersey. 

I'm grateful at least that I do not own any property, because the mentally ill buffoon currently running the country has now put a cap on how much of your property taxes you can list as a deduction on your tax return. 

The Democrats can't cough up anyone better, so I fear we're going to be stuck with this mess for another four years. Time to rethink our options and elect someone who will REALLY Make America Great Again Russia Instead.

* We do.

lovely ball

Something to be grateful for this holiday season--Gyr (my car) MIGHT be fixable. I'm going on my third week with the rented Ford Fusion (I hate it), so praying that they can actually fix Gyr.

My hip, however, remains a different story. The physical therapist believes that the impact of the car accident caused me to dislocate and then badly relocate my left hip. As a result, said hip does not want to stay properly located. I will probably be in pain forever, until the hip eventually gets so fecked up that it will need replacing. Yippee. On the bright side, I'll probably be able to get some extra money via lawsuit. 

But let's not dwell on that. Let's change the subject. 


Sometimes circumstances force you to lose access to something you really REALLY love. Like your satellite cable carrier deciding that you can no longer subscribe to just the one specific sports channel you want, now you must purchase a package that includes like 6 channels you'll never watch. 

And thus when I was about 15, I could no longer watch my football and rugby. 
(Proper football, not the pansified American version.)

We had no internet then, and even if we did, I doubt I would have found a way to keep up with watching my sports live. 

I was mental about football from like age 8 or 9. My team was always Tottenham Hotspur, because that was Dad's team, but to keep from being an outcast amongst my cousins, I accepted Manchester United as my alternate team. 

(Mum's side of the family was divided firmly between Man U and Liverpool.)

After starting to watch football and rugby with Dad about 2 years ago, I forgot how much I love it. He always found the games live on the internet, and we would occasionally watch matches on his laptop.

So then a few months ago I looked into finding an app or something I could get on the telly to watch Premier League games live, good quality live videos as opposed to the fuzzy and slow matches dad got on the laptop. 

NBC will allow you to purchase a "channel", without having to subscribe to the entire sports network. So I shelled out for a full year of access to English Premier League football. 

It took only a few weeks for me to get right back into the level of sports obsession I had in middle school. 

If I'm with dad, the conversation inevitably ends up with extensive discussions about football. As much as I value my weekend sleep (typically sleeping until 4PM), if there is a Tottenham match on at 7.30 AM, I will sleep on the sofa and set my alarm for 7. And you better believe I'll wake up to watch the match live. 

For Christmas, Santa* got me a Spurs jersey

with my fav player's number on it.

(I feel like I'm absurdly fat at the moment. Consumption of sedatives is at an all time high.)

All of this happened so quickly that the rest of the family is equal parts confused and annoyed. Dad is at the point where he has realized that the child of his dreams (previously a son who would become as enthusiastic about footie as he is) has been in front of him for years. Out of 5 children, only I ended up obsessed with football. 


The Premier League is taking over my life. 

Again.

(Except now I can't cover my walls in posters of football players because most of them are 10+ years younger than I am.)

My friends are equally confused by this sudden re-discovering of one of my favourite things. Except M, he remembers the days before I lost the foreign sports channel. 

Even at work--if there happens to be a weekday match, the office more or less comes to a standstill because YOU BETTER FECKING BELIEVE I'm watching that Tottenham match at noon on Tuesday. Bossman can't fire me, because he knows full well he cannot replace me with just one person.

I hope you all had wonderful holidays, no matter how or what you celebrate. <3 
































*Mum

State of the Blog Address

Quite a few peeps have reached out to me after this blog went silent (y’all need to find some hobbies), and so at the insistence of you poor misguided fools, I shall attempt to keep blogging. [just kidding, you know I love you guys]

Not really much has happened. Ditched the boyfriend, but managed to make him believe it was his idea because I really didn’t want to hurt him, as he had low self esteem to begin with.

A few good things have happened recently, the first being finally able to listen to Tool on Spotify.

Tool also released a new album after a 13 year hiatus, knocking Taylor Swift off the #1 spot on the music charts, which was wildly entertaining simply for the shock and confusion amongst her fans. It’s about time great music made it onto the charts again.

Niecey-G, the youngest of all the nieces and nephew, STARTED FECKING HIGH SCHOOL last week. Like wat. I was changing her diapers a year ago, I swear. Big Sis#2 is not taking it very well, as Niecey-G was her only baby and she has reached the age where she would much rather hang out with her friends than with her mother.***

Niecey-G had some issues with nasty girls in her friend group towards the end of the last school year, so I have been teaching her the ways of Ultimate Assholery. She has so far perfected Resting Murder Face, and the uncomfortably-long-condescending-non-blinking-glare. I’m also giving her a crash course in behavioural psychology to both read people’s minds based on little behaviours, and use that knowledge to control them.

Much more important stuff than the rubbish they teach you in school. The education system in this country is a joke. I am living proof of this.

In other news.......

despite generally being the throwaway child and most likely candidate for Dad's Least Favourite Child, I have been catapulted to the position of The #1 Favourite. All because I discovered that NBC has an app that lets me watch all the Premier League games LIVE.

I used to obsessively follow English football, until like ...2010? when our cable package ditched the foreign sports channel unless we paid for like 8 channels no one would watch. So no more football. 

But now Dad--who tried relentlessly to get both brothers into soccer--has someone to watch footie with every weekend. Someone who supports the same team he does.


That's it for now, I think. The Christmas decor will not be coming down, as by the time I actually make an autumnal banner, it will probably be Easter 2020. If any of you actually read this, let me know how you're doing.

*Big Sis#2 has finally had to shell out $100+ she doesn’t have to buy Niecey-G a graphing calculator that will never see daylight once Niecey-G is done with high school.

**Trigedasleng. Mich Nerd Level Raiden.

***YOU GUUUYUYYYYUS Neicey-G IS OUT ON HER FIRST DATE WITH A JUNIOR I REALLY F**KING CAN'T RIGHT NOW

Stop the world, I really f****ng want to get off.

We went camping this past weekend--me, Dadum, Stepmom, and both Lil Bros--to Ithaca, NY, to visit some waterfalls, the Mecca of Birdwatching, and watch the Tottenham Hotspur v. Liverpool game live in a pub.

While we had a good time, it felt like one thing after another kept going wrong. On the way up, Dadum's truck's check engine light not only lit up, but started flashing. We made it to the campsite and the 'rents found a mechanic to look at the truck on short notice, so hopefully problem solved.

Then something went wrong with the trailer's electricity. Not a huge issue, since--thank heavens--it didn't get hot enough at night to necessitate air conditioning, and the lights inside worked on their own batteries. But still, Mom and Dad had recently spent a considerable amount of time and money fixing various issues with the camper. There should not have been any electrical issues.

It rained a bit, but thankfully not as much as all of our weather apps had predicted. We saw some pretty waterfalls. 

I was traumatized by this sign at an ice cream stand in the park.

but managed to find comfort by befriending this spider

Dadum and I found a pub to watch the Tottenham v. Liverpool game over a few beers while Mom and both Lil Bros wandered Ithaca. Within the first like thirty seconds of the game, one of the refs made THE MOST RETARDED CALL IN FOOTBALL HISTORY and gave Liverpool a penalty kick for literally no reason at all. 

We lost 2 - nil. But otherwise it was a good game and despite losing, Tottenham had possession of the ball for like 80% of the game. 

On the way back into the campground, we noticed the most fantastic mini golf statue in the history of the multiverse. 

It took every last ounce of our willpower not to steal it.

We celebrated Lil Bro#2's 25th birthday Saturday evening, and sat around drinking and eating and generally being merry, even with the on and off rain. The Bros and I sat around the campfire chatting and laughing after Mom and Dad retired into the camper.

My phone rang. It was Mike the Band leader. I hadn't heard from him and his wife in a while, so I answered. I should have figured that it would be bad news, considering the call came at nearly 10.00 at night, but we'd all had quite a few drinks by that point.

I still wonder if maybe I shouldn't have answered. I mean, I would have found out anyway, but part of me wishes I had ignored the phone call and continued having a laugh with my brothers until we eventually turned in for the night. 

One of my friends (Drummerboy, who some of y'all might remember from when I was sort of dating him) was shot and killed in a diner parking lot on Saturday morning. By his own son. 

No one knows why. The best guess is an argument over money. They hadn't had a good relationship in years, mainly because of the kid and his mother demanding more and more money from Drummerboy even though he didn't have the money to give them. 

My friend's own fecking child MURDERED HIS FATHER over money. 

Friday I have to go to a family friend's wedding (we've all known each other since before any of us kids were born and our parents all worked for the same company in the 1970s). I've been dreading this since we got the invite, because I hate weddings in general (at least the stupid cliche weddings that literally every single couple I know has had over the years). 

Drummerboy's funeral is Friday at 11.00 AM. I had already planned to leave work early for the stupid wedding, so now Bossman and Bosslady are giving me a hard time about taking a full day off. Mumsy and I had originally planned to stay in a hotel after the wedding with Lil Sis, because it's kind of far from home. I told Mumsy that I will probably be ditching the wedding as soon as is socially acceptable so I can drive home.

Apparently this is incredibly selfish of me. 

So on Friday I'll be attending the fecking wedding after attending my friend's funeral, and I know I'm going to get a ration of shit if I don't act all happy and sociable at said wedding. The only reason I will resist getting blackout drunk is that I already desperately want to go home.

........

Normally I don't give a crap about the Great American Pillow Fight because it's not a real sport*


but

 WE'RE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL BITCHESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!

 Hopefully it goes better than last time.



















* I was raised on rugby, which is a real sport, and thus I cannot take American "football" seriously.

and I never ever ever do a thing about the weather, for the weather never ever does a thing for me

So I may be going to Super Bowl....... Not sure yet, I have been offered my uncle's ($5,000.00) ticket and I kind of like the Broncos (duh, because they're from Denver), but I will have to spend the day with my delinquent cousin. (He's nice, he's just..... I think "rowdy" would be the kindest way of putting it...) I shall have to contemplate this further. Y'all may remember how I feel about the Giants and their stadium. Plus it's going to be really fecking cold, and I don't actually enjoy watching football.

Also Super Bowl kind of clashes with the church chili cook-off (my social life is thrilling, as you can probably tell). I have been focusing on making the best chili ever so I can beat Stepmom's chili. So far, two butchers in two different supermarkets think I'm out of my mind because I brought in venison steaks for them to grind up for deer-chili (it could be delicious? we'll find out....). They already thought I was a bit strange because I make them grind sirloin steaks when I need ground beef. I refuse to buy supermarket ground beef; I like to know exactly what goes into the ground meat, thanks.

. . .

You know what really effing sucks? Perioral dermatitis. You know what else really sucks? The fact that there isn't really anything they can do for it. Doc told me to cease and desist all face creams, makeup, soaps, etc.

I can't stop wearing makeup. In order to remain employed, I need to NOT look like a leper, which I means I need makeup to cover the hideous fucking rash on my face. Which means I need to wash my face in the evening, which means my skin gets super dry and flaky and itchy, which means I also need to use mf face cream.

>:O

There are hideous red patches around my mouth and nose, on my chin, and now a lovely patch of it right under one of my eyes. And the most effective treatment is to do nothing.

Before anyone else says it first, I DO in fact see the irony in this diagnosis. I guess this is how God punishes those who refuse to go to the doctor.

Yes, I smile and I agree it is a good night to shiver.

Time has gotten away from me again. I wish I had more time for Blogger. I feel like I know you all better than I know most of the people in real life, and I like most of you more. Thus I feel like a bad friend when I can't devote the time I want to your blogs. Shall try and catch up with all of you tomorrow and Friday...


I've spent the last week struggling with writer's block (a common occurrence after finishing writing a book and then trying to work on the next one), which led to digging through some older projects to try and get the creative gears turning again. 


I've written about 20 pages of a YA novel I started last year. I might make a page for it on here.... Idk yet. (I'm still hovering in the maybe-I-should-just-cast-it-into-the-fire phase.) Anyone interested in giving it a read? It's kind of dark and violent in parts, and it's taken a huge turn from its original direction. I'm not sure where the plot is headed yet. 


The rest of my time is spent watching the Walking Dead (again), and--speaking of the walking dead--dreading the return of Stepdad tomorrow. T.T He's been in a nursing home for like a month and has somehow recovered enough to darken our doorstep once more.


I know this probably makes me sound like a horrible person, but I wish he would just die already. There are good and decent people in this world with fewer bodily ailments than he has, and yet they seem to get snatched up without enough time to spend with their families and friends. People I've known have gotten diagnosed with cancer and died within one or two months--people who deserved more from life, a little more time. And yet Stepdad--a liar and an a-hole and the scum of the earth--defies all the laws of science and medicine and just keeps on living. 


Ugh. 


In other news...


Cousin N has fully recovered. We know this because, two days after returning to England, she demanded that Loud Auntie let her move back in to their house and then buy her a Range Rover, and then Cousin N had a fit and declared that she hates her mother because Loud Auntie refused to buy said Range Rover. Cousin N is like 35, and has never had a real job. Her personality worries Mum and me quite a bit, as Cousin N and Little Sis have almost the exact same demeanor, which leads Mum and me to believe that Mum will be stuck with Lil' Sis's spoiled-brat-ness forever. 


Funny how much of your personality is genetic. Like it gets weird and creepy sometimes. I get told constantly by Cousin F and Cousin Patrick that I'm exactly like their brother, Aa. We even have the same nervous ticks, and the same songs on the playlists in our ipods, despite the fact that we grew up in different countries, seeing each other only twice a year. We're also both equally old school badass--we both have a fondness for swords. And Cuz Aa took up karate around the same time I took up archery. 


Fun stuff time!!
My Cousin Aa/apparently lost lost twin is in this pic (click to enlarge I think...):

The first person who picks him out of the crowd gets a prize. A real prize, in the post.


Here's a fun photo of me for reference, because apparently we look sort of a little bit (I don't think so, but hey whatevs...) alike:

(Don't be distracted by hair colour, because mine isn't natural. If you're stumped, you can find more/better photos here, and here, and lots here.) 


More news.... Only a week left until I head to Colorado!! I haven't had a proper holiday in over two years, and this is like a double super awesome holiday because I GET TO HANG OUT WITH KAZEHANA. :D
Prepare yourself for epic spastification. And Wild West madness. (Y'all can try and convince me Colorado is not Wild West-ish as much you want; it won't make a difference. I'm Irish--anything west of Pennsylvania is the Wild West.)


Hopefully I'll get a proper post up before I leave. I'm working on one, but the ms paint pics take more time than I have at my disposal. Especially since I get so easily distracted by shiny objects, and digging through my old writings, and tumblr, and crushee, and Norman Reedus....


Any of you fellow potheads on Pottermore? If you're not, you should be!! It is at long last open to the general public. Be my friend: username is RainDragon6592. I'm in Gryffindor, according to the Sorting Hat. 


OMG the Devils are actually in the playoffs again!!!! I'm really REALLY hoping it comes down to the Devils v. Coyotes, as the the Coyotes are Cousin F's fav team. And if the Rangers somehow defeat the Devils in the next rounds, I may have to destroy all of New York. 
::knockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwood::


Have a good night, my preciouses! Or a good day, if you're on the other side. ♥

King illegal forest to pig wild kill in it a is!

I'm not going to b*tch about the football because I know it's a Big Thing, and I also know that as an American disliking football the way that I do, I am in the minority. 

Having grown up watching rugby, I find that I am simply unable to take football seriously. They seem like rather similar sports, except that in football they stop the game every 8 seconds, and they have the players padded up to their eyeballs presumably so they do not get injured. 

. . .

Rugby players do not wear padding. 

But regardless of all that, I am still a Yank and so I will proclaim my allegiance to a football team if pressed to do so. I will support the Eagles, and I get a lot of sh*t from a lot of different people here in the NY/NJ area because of that. So now I shall explain myself. 

I flat out refuse to support either of our "local" teams--the NY Giants or the NY Jets. Why? Here's their stadium:

Why oh why does New York get TWO teams and New Jersey gets NONE, despite the fact that both teams call New Jersey home?!? I find this preposterous and refuse to support such a grievous insult.

Even after explaining this to people, I still get "but WHY the Eagles?!??!"

I used to live in Philadelphia. Specifically, I lived in Philadelphia in 2005 when the Eagles played against the Patriots in the Super Bowl. The Eagles lost. 

I have never seen such madness. CHAOS IN THE STREETS. It was like something out of an apocalyptic movie. The citizens of Philadelphia all LOST THEIR MINDS the minute that game ended, and took their insanity out on their own city. 

That night, I was hanging out at a friend's apartment. He lived on the 3rd floor of his building, and across the street from The Irish Pub on Walnut Street. The Pub was packed, and in the apartments above it, people were having Super Bowl parties, so between the partiers and the pub-goers, we stayed up to date on the game without actually having to watch it (by shouting "what's the score?" out the window every so often). We watched a marathon of all the Alien movies instead, which both Chris and I found much more interesting than football. 

We could generally tell how the game was going by watching the people at the party in the apartment directly across from us, and the people hanging out outside the Pub. It didn't seem to be going all that well. 

When the game ended and we inquired as to the score from the people outside, we did not receive any answers; because it was at that point that everyone had lost their minds. 

From our spot three floors up, Chris and I had an excellent view of the ensuing mayhem. People knocked over street signs and traffic light posts and street lights. They hurled dustbins and newspaper vending machines into the streets. They hurled them at cars. A couple dudes started throwing footballs around, which quickly escalated into a bunch of dudes attempting to bludgeon each other to death with footballs. People were screaming and yelling and swearing and sobbing. 

AND THEN

two complete idiots (or perhaps they were just a bit touched in the head? I mean seriously, every sane person living on the East Coast knows that people in Philly are craycray about their sports) come out of a bar down the street

wearing Patriots jerseys. 

It was like watching one of those nature documentaries, when the lions spot a couple stray hyenas in their territory. 

The two Patriots fans got jumped by nine HUGE dudes. They didn't even get a warning. No foreplay of hostile words were exchanged, as would have been customary under the normal circumstances of drunken sports-related fights. No shouts or jeers from the Eagles fans as a preliminary show of hostility. Nope. The nine guys who attacked were actually that furious. And as far as Chris and I could tell, those nine dudes didn't even know each other. 

Two cops saw the whole thing and attempted to break it up, with nightsticks. 

They gave up after a couple seconds, and one of them radioed for back-up while the other watched the fight and tried to hide his proud smile for his fellow Philadelphians.  

I stayed on Chris' couch that night, as we both agreed that it would probably not be safe for me to walk the 16 blocks back to my apartment alone. The next day, wandering around the city, I saw that it wasn't just the people near Chris' place that had gone mad with grief when the Eagles lost the Super Bowl--every part of the city that I saw was left in chaos. Cars destroyed, windows broken, whole city blocks T.P.'ed, traffic lights and sign posts and street lights laying in the street.... It was nuts. No one from New England was safe in Philadelphia for the next several months. 

And that is why I support the Eagles. I'm not supporting the football team itself really; I support the Eagles' fans.