Posts Tagged 'work'

Totally unnecessary, but totally called for.

By popular demand and due to a severe amount of procrastination, here I am, writing on this blog after months of cruel disuse. A few things indicate that I’ve waited way too long to post again – one being that I’m now in my third year, rather than my second, and two being the fact that WordPress has totally reworked their website since April when I last graced the bloggedyweb. Luckily though, I have managed to find my way to the “Add New Post” page, so I guess I might as well give it a shot. I figure if I can’t help the word count on my coursework that’s due in two days, the least I can do is throw a few paragraphs up on here. (And I mean that in the least projectile-vomit-sounding way possible).

How is life in jolly old England these days? Well, to be completely honest, it’s terrifyingly quick. Sadly, this version of speedy passage of time does not have the harmless connotation of first year. No, time passing quickly these days means impending visa applications, house searching, dissertation writing, job searching, and GRADUATING. I don’t really know why I put graduating in caps there when really it’s the most harmless thing on the list (after all, how scary can any event involving something called a mortar-board be?). Every item on that list comes sooner with the passing of each minute and that, my friends, is very, very, scary.

In a way, the future is exciting. It’s where I get to find an amazing job and do what I love and start to be an adult (no, I don’t need to know that adulthood is highly overrated). I like to think that if I had the guarantee of finding a job I’ll enjoy that pays for room and board (and shoes and clothes) I’d be far less stressed about life. I’d also feel a bit closer to that guarantee being a possibility if I had ANY clue whatsoever as to what I want to do with my life. These days I find myself going through a panic phase. Suddenly, “being good at writing” doesn’t mean shit, and I feel hardly qualified to do anything more than make you a cappuccino, plate up a pasty, and ask you if you’d like ketchup or brown sauce with that. The past three months have seen three different (unpaid) blog contribution gigs come and go, and in each instance, I found myself completely struggling. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I always thought I’d be an amazing blogger. Hence, you know, the blog. But look at me! I am completely and utterly sucking at it, both here and on other peoples’ websites. How good of a writer am I when really, when it comes down to it, I don’t have all that much to say?

Now this all probably sounds a bit doomsday-ish, in terms of how I see both myself and the near future, but fear not, readers (all 2.5 of you). I am, when not spending too much time at the cafe, in excellent spirits. For one, I’m going to see the MOTHERFUCKING GOO GOO DOLLS on Monday. Yes, you read it right. In 48 HOURS, I will be front row (open floor, and I’ll be damned if I waste my one opportunity to lock eyes with Johnny Rzeznik) swooning to the Goos. Spare me your judgement as I OMG for ages. THE GOO GOO DOLLS. SO EXCITED!

I’m excited about non gig-related things as well. For example, here are three AWESOME reasons to be excited about right now, in order of arrival: 1. MAGGIE MCBRIDE. 2. LAURA WELLS. 3. KELLY HOPKINS. Now show me a person who is not excited by those three people and I will show you a blob of failure. You toss in Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and the fact that once those pass, the days will slowly stop becoming mind-numbingly short, and I pretty much cannot complain. Life is about the awesome people in it, not the random shit you have to work through, so following that logic, I’ve got the best life on the planet.

Please excuse my total lack on continuity in this post…really, it’s just a distraction from my looming essay. It seriously blows my mind how an hour ago I was immeasurably inspired and confident about those 1500 words and then, when I sit down to actually give it a go, I instantly am immersed in hopeless lethargy. And, even when I conquer the lethargy, it’s only to go on Facebook to chat with the person sitting next to me (Sam Wilson) or to hit up WordPress for a long over-due post. I’m really, really hoping that when it comes to my dissertation, my brain is a bit more cooperative.

What is my dissertation about, you ask? Why, what a good question! Sadly, my 1500 word doom is calling, and I don’t have the time to tell you about it. But tune in next time kids, because as possibly THE worst hook in blog-posting history, that’s what you’ll find out next time on the ludicrously unreliable blog of Transatlantic Kathy.

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Bitch best blog more!

For starters, I just thought I’d say how much I love hearing that people read my blog. A bit self-important, I know, but it’s nice to know that people either care enough or are bored enough to read a bit about my life. I don’t think I thank people enough for stopping by, so as my favorite McBride would say, there that is.

To trade in for my three sentences of self-importance, I’ll share how I’ve suffered twice (in recent memory) for my lack of Englishness.

I work at a pasty cafe. Most of you know that. Now, working at a pasty cafe, you get asked a certain variety of questions and as such are readily prepared to answer most any of them. For example, “What flavors of pasty do you guys have?” Or, “What comes with the light lunch?” Even once, despite seeing our display full of fresh pasties, “Do you guys have any pasties?” I won’t lie, I have my moments where I mess things up, but generally speaking I am entirely capable of running the counter on my own.

That is, of course, until a man approaches the counter, and to the best of my hearing, he inquires if we have any “oise”.

“Any what, sir?” Mayyyybe I just heard him wrong.

“Oise.”

Maybe not. “Pardon me?”

Impatient look. “Do you have any oise?”

Shitshitshit, still have NO idea what he wants. “I’m sorry sir, just one more time for me…”

Cue the GOD, how stupid IS this girl? look. “OISE. Do you have any OISE??”

“Excuse me, let me get Abbie.”

Abbie walks up, all smiles. “Hello there, what can I get for you, sir?”

“I just wanted to see if you have any oise.”

“Oh, no sir, I’m sorry, we only have the cold drinks. We don’t have any ICE.”

ICE?! Ice?? I am sorry, but there is no way on the PLANET that that man asked me for ice four times. Nope. Oise, yes, he asked me for oise plenty of times. But ice? I don’t care how strong your English accent is…oise? And for the life of me I don’t know how Abbie understood him. And on the first time.

The next day I was in the kitchen talking with Sharaz when he starts telling me about this really funny thing that happened to him the other day. Sharaz, for the record, works at the bar at the Holiday Inn in town. So he deals with a variety of customers (hello gypsies!), including many very English ones (Norfolk Turkey Association, anyone?). Aaaanyway, he starts telling me how this guy came up to the counter and kept asking for something and Sharaz, for the life of him, had no idea what the man was talking about. Turns out, all the guy wanted was some OISE. So I take that as proof that I’m really not all that retarded at living in England. Yes, you could point out that English is my first language and it’s not Sharaz’s and therefore I have no excuse. But you’re not going to, because we’re all awesome here, and we’ll just write off the whole “oise” scenario under the same category as the soup story.

We sell a variety of soups at my work, depending on the day. This particular day, we were serving Tomato & Basil soup. I regularly get ridiculed by my managers as to how I pronounce this certain kind of soup (toe-may-toe and bay-zil), because according to the English, I say it ten kinds of wrong. You’re supposed to say,  “toe-mah-toe and ba-zil”.  Which I never say. And has never been a problem.

Cue ridiculous English lady.

“Excuse me, what kind of soup are you serving today?”

“Toe-may-toe and bay-zil, ma’am.”

“What was that?”

“Toe-may-toe and bay-zil.”

“Pardon, what are you saying?”

“Toe-may-toe and bay-zil…” Still getting a blank look. You have GOT to be kidding me. FINE, I’ll say it:

“Toe-mah-toe and ba-zil…?

“Ahh, yes, thank you!”

At this point, all of my co-workers were listening and watching from the back, busting out laughing. Because what’s funnier than watching me be forced to speak English-English as if American-English were incomprehensible? Apparently, not much.

So there you have it, two accounts of me still being blatantly American, in all of their over-written glory. Totally could’ve reeled off those stories in two sentences…but hey, as a certain Lindsay Ransom and I believe, what is a good story if you tell it too quickly?

Speaking of Lindsay, I have her to thank for my recent return to the land of jukebox classics like Stay by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. God, I love that song. And playlist.com, for letting me play it and all the other classics I don’t have on itunes to death. I’d say I’m just waiting for someone to come complain about my Happy Days overplaying, but halls are basically empty due to our current month-long spring break.

Yes, UEA for some reason has a whole month off for spring break. And can I just say quickly how much I hate using the term spring break now thanks to Sam Wilson? Every time I use that term in his presence, he drops his voice an octave and shouts “SPRING BREAK” in his best MTV spring-breaker impersonation voice. Because apparently spring break is less of a widely-used term here, and more of an Americanized concept of what kids go do during Easter holidays.

EASTER! I can’t believe that it’s this Sunday already! This is where I’m supposed to tell you that I’ve been an amazing Lent-er, and kept up with all of my dietary promises of a few entries ago. Sad to say, I survived a good…hmm, let’s be honest here…a good six days before I lost it. Accidentally, mind you – but I just as easily could have gone back to the Lenten diet after I realized I’d broken it. Instead, I continued HORFing down my deep-fried tortilla slathered in guacamole and sour cream and decided to be a bad person. So much fail, I know. I’ll blame my over-extended Ash Wednesday ambition for that one.

My Easter plans, if all works out for the best, include visiting the awesome-sauce Zach Coventry at his home in Kent. Kent! Does it get more English sounding than that? Well, I guess it could, if you lived there, and your last name was Coventry, and your middle name was Westwood. All of the above of which apply to Zach. So that makes Zach one of THE most English-sounding people on the planet. Brings to mind a certain picnic filled with Mr. Wheatsworth and some large-leaf lettuce leaves…oh, amazing times.

[Just hit 1111 words! Make a wish!]

If you’re wondering where the name of this post came from, you can thank Alex Davis and his literary, word-phrasing genius. And if you’re wondering if I intended on making this the most name-drop-tastic post I’ve ever written, the answer would be no. But that hasn’t stopped it from certainly becoming such.

In other news, life is a bizarre breed of amazing right now. I’m looking forward to summer, not really believing that we’re already a week into April. How the hell I’ve been living in another country for nearly eight months is beyond me. I watched the film Amélie the other day, and it solidified my need to go see Becks in France. Granted, the film is a bit on the quirky side, but I love it, and it does a fantastic job of capturing the whimsically happy feeling of everything being alright.

I admit I got a little screencap happy there for a second, but seriously. I love looking at anything from that movie…it is one of the most visually engaging films I’ve seen in a long time!

And in hopefully my last segue of this beastly post – speaking of films. I watched Elizabeth the other day as well, and might just have re-fallen in love with Vincent Cassel. Most of you likely won’t recognize the name, so I’m going to be awesome and jog your memory, starting with this gem:

Voice of Monsieur Hood? Yeah. Vincent fuckin’ awesome Cassel. He plays himself a badass Russian mafia guy in Eastern Promises, (okay, so Nikolai could probably kick Kirill’s ass, but come on, Nikolai is theoretically Aragorn, so whose ass couldn’t he kick?) and is part of the super classy, unfairly attractive cast of both Ocean’s 12 and Ocean’s 13. Here’s a sample or two, if you have a few minutes to spare:

So much win! Okay, I’m done with the clips and the pictures and the segues, I promise. Just go watch Amélie, or something with Vincent Cassel in it. That’s all I ask!

Besides that – that being the ridiculous 1456 word post I just threw at you – life is strepless, class-less, and definitely still amazing. Even better? Home in two months. Home, and summer.

And as we all know, there’s nothing better than a lazy summer with the crazy kids of El Do.  ♥

Life in High-Speed and Technicolor

If the rest of my life goes by at the same rate as the past two months, I’m pretty sure I’ll be eighty by next week.

Today is March 1st. That is RIDICULOUS! How, how, how can it possibly already be March? My mind is officially blown.

In other news, I turned twenty last week. Something about twenty sounds so much cooler than nineteen, so needless to say, I’m pretty happy. The flat got together and did the cake-and-balloons deal (=]) and we had cheeseburgers and malts. Malts! WIN! I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about making malts, beyond that they’re basically milkshakes with malt, so all things considered they turned out pretty well. Basically, I’m in love with Iceland, and I’m pretty sure that every college town in America needs one.

Iceland is magical. It doesn’t exactly collect the cream of the crop in terms of society, but damn…the selection of frozen food is BOMB, and it is dirt cheap. And it’s frozen. Which means it lasts…basically forever. I can forget about the chicken kievs (6 for £2.50!!) I have in the freezer till next Wednesday and they will still be just as tasty, as opposed to, oh, the mince that I picked up for spaghetti but forgot about and now it’s moldy and ten kinds of fail.

One of the downsides of Iceland is, go figure, their lack of fresh produce. They do have a fresh produce section, but I don’t know if I’d call it kosher. As in, I went looking for some tangerines the other day and couldn’t find any. Found myself a £1 bag of ten “Easy Citrus Peelers” though, which look (and sort of…?) taste like tangerines. Case in point.

On a fantastic food note, though, we have the discovery of MALT LOAF, many thanks to my flatmate Matt. I promise you, you have not LIVED until you’ve had malt loaf slathered in butter. It ranks right up there with Lyle’s Golden Syrup in terms of epic English foods that must come back to the states with me. And in terms of American foods to bring back here come August? How about some Bisquick and some Lucky Charms. Holy shit, what I would do for a bowl of Lucky Charms right now.

This is malt loaf. ITS FUCKING AWESOME.

This is malt loaf. IT'S FUCKING AWESOME.

Lyles Golden Syrup is liquid win and is best consumed on its own with a spoon.

Lyle's Golden Syrup is liquid win and is best consumed on its own with a spoon.

And since I can’t seem to stop talking about food, I’ll go ahead and lay out for you all my current Lenten diet. I’ve given up cookies, cakes, candy, chocolate, and fried food. On second thought, I probably should have given up butter or cider…but last time around (and by last time around, I grossly exaggerate and actually refer to about three years ago) the whole cookies, cakes, etc. seemed to work pretty well, so I thought I’d give it another whirl.

This past week was Reading Week, so I haven’t had any class for ages. It’ll be nice having a purpose in life besides pasties come Monday…er, come tomorrow. Turned in some coursework though on Thursday, so I guess I had a slightly academic week.

Must say though…definitely spent more time with my two besties Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus than I did on my paper. Yes, the Rome bug has bitten again – and this time, I blasted through Season 1 and Season 2 in a concise four days. Why, oh why did HBO cut that series? I kid you not, people…Rome is TEN KINDS of epic, and seriously…if you enjoy quality shows, or anything of the ancient world history variety, or especially if you’re awesome like me and love both, you HAVE to watch Rome. HAVE TO.

Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus: quintessential BAMFs.

Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus: quintessential BAMFs.

Finishing up with that and refusing to come back to reality has me itching for another trip through the fifties/sixties epic movies; you know, The Ten Commandments, Spartacus, Ben Hur, yada yada. Nothing entertains quite like Technicolor and the blatant disregard of race when casting movies of the ancient world. JOHN DEREK I LOVE YOU.

John Derek, my 1950s love.

John Derek, my 1950's love.

[Sidenote: I just searched thesaurus.com for a synonym for ignore. On the sidebar of the results page, it had a “Related Searches from Ask.com” list. Number one related search? Why do men ignore women? Just…at this point in time, no words. Irony for the win.]

For once in my life, last Tuesday, I had GOOD phone luck! Reggie is, I swear, the luckiest phone I’ve ever had. I misplaced him a few weeks ago – left him on the desk in the main office of the Arts 2 building – and Tuesday, once again, I nearly saw the last of him. Amidst a bit of drunken revelry in the LCR, I managed to upend my purse and lose nearly the entirety of its contents. This includes, cause I’m awesome, my ID (£20), my phone (£90), my bus pass (£148), my camera (£150), and my keys (£40). Would you like to know the two items that managed to stay in the purse? Two pieces of chocolate liqueur candy. Of ALL of the things to not fall out…the candy. WTF LIFE YOU FAIL.

Anyway, because Laura and her ENV friends are awesome, we somehow managed to locate all five of those essential items. I don’t even know how that’s possible, almost as much as I don’t know how it’s possible for me to LOSE them all…but hey, it’s a good thing, so I won’t question it.

And right now, just cause I can, I’m going to say how much fun it is creating tags for posts. I know they pretty much don’t even matter…but I’m a fan of making endless amounts of them. I swear, every time I write, I end up with like five more tags than my last post…regardless of relevancy. Once again, because I’m awesome.

It never ceases to amaze me how a piece of information can just sit in your brain and then – BAM! – just re-hit you and suddenly seem like a surprise. For instance, when I was making a mocha (pronounced, by the by, “mah-ka” on this side of the Atlantic…which makes me laugh to no end) for a customer yesterday when I realized, out of nowhere, that next year I will be living in a house that I am paying the rent for using money I earn at a job independent (sans tuition) of my parents. And with three guys, no less. When did that happen? When did I turn twenty and gain that kind of responsibility? It really, really, weirds me out. In fact, if it didn’t excite me about twenty millions times more than it weirds me out, I don’t know if I could handle it.

But, well, as things stand I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be just fine.

[belated] Round 2

Today  marks two weeks from my fully-functioning arrival, and to be honest, I thought I’d at least have written once or twice by now. Goodness knows plenty has happened!

I am fully embroiled in the land of English Lit classes, for one. It’s nearly ridiculous how much reading I have to do all the time; though, since I’m only actually in class for what, seven hours a week, I guess that’s to be expected. I’ve also returned to work at the mall, even had a work dinner last night at a semi-gimmicky place called Fatso’s that served EPIC burgers of deliciousness! With CURLY FRIES, WIN!

On a far less exciting note, I think I’ve left my cell phone* on the bus on my way to work this week. Optimistic me, however, notes that this would be an excellent time to move my patronage from a pay-as-you-go O2 phone to a SKYPE PHONE! Basically, it will be amazing. I’ll be able to use skype for free via my phone…so, I’ll be able to call the states for, at most, 2¢ a minute. And well, since I accidentally spent £8 on a call to a certain Jaime, that skype rate sounds pretty fucking awesome. Silver lining for the win!

D5 now lacks a certain Maggie McBride, which is too sad to really write about. I miss her in epic, illogical proportions. But again with the silver lining: the new flatmates, who don’t really even feel new anymore, are amazing. Basically D5 has the best people luck on the planet.

Lots of those English people, for the record, have developed a certain affinity for the phrase “to be honest” / “to be fair”. Maybe I just didn’t notice it last term…but I swear, I must hear somebody say one of those two phrases AT LEAST three times a day. So there you have it, yet another linguistic discovery from a foreigner.

And completely unrelated, another incident of me being ridiculous:

The other evening I had the pleasure of lacking any semblance of balance and falling headfirst into a thorn bush. I survived just fine, though I look like I got attacked by my cat Angus up my entire left side. The next morning, I’d invited my friend Eleanor back to my flat after class for some tea, and I decided to regal her with my tale of failure. It was pretty theatrical and I was really enjoying myself when suddenly Eleanor’s eyes got huge and she just busted up laughing out of nowhere. Amidst the ridiculous laughing, I catch three incredulous words: “That was YOU??”

Apparently, Eleanor’s flat has quite a nice view of the thorn bush into which I fell. And well, as fate would have it, Eleanor and her entire flat was sitting in the kitchen of her flat chatting away when I had my little shenanigan. And, wouldn’t you know it, they watched me flounder in the thorn bush until I found my way out, and had a great laugh about it. What can I say, apparently I live to entertain!

Oh, and one more note before I ditch Konsuke for some breakfast. I am in love with one of my lit professors. He’s basically a poor man’s David Bowie, and listening to him lecture is the highlight of my week. Seriously. If it didn’t sound so creepy, I’d snap a picture all spy-status to prove my point.

Alas, while I may be many things…I’m not THAT insane.

*Resisted the urge to say mobile.

Prince John Does It Better

So I don’t know about the rest of you US citizens, but I personally had never really encountered much use of the phrase “aha” as a form of laughter online. Since I’ve been over here though, I’ve seen it multiple times. And it cracks me up. You want to know why it cracks me up? Well, watch the following video (best example at 0:43) and you’ll hear what I hear every time an English person types “aha”.

AMAZINGNESS.

(Moving on.)

I had two British English to American English mistranslations today. Number one would be when I got baffled at work when an amazing little old lady asked me if the guv’nah was in. I blinked at her and said, “Erm…would the…guv-ern-errrrr be the…manager?” And she just laughed at me and said yes. Oh man, I felt really ridiculous. Then hours later I listed off the dishes Maggie and I would be whipping up for our pseudo-Thanksgiving dinner and got a serious WTF from everyone when I said, “Ohhhh, and the biscuits will be AWESOME with gravy on them!” Here, for the record, the word biscuit is nearly synonymous with the word cookie. So to be fair, I’d be pretty WTF if you told me gravy would be AWESOME on my cookies. FAIL.

Anyway, everybody have a happy Thanksgiving, and hit this epic blog up sometime over the weekend – I promise, there will be pictures (and if I know my flatmates, stories to match) a plenty of the transatlantic-reppin’ revelry!

Being productive, and why it isn’t exactly fun.

I just hit ctrl+s for the last time on my Literature in History essay. I couldn’t help myself, though. Before opening a tab to email the doc off to myself for printing in the school library, I had to open my three obligatory tabs: Facebook, Myspace, and The Superficial (guilty pleasure). Unfortunately, nothing new had happened on any of the three sites since I’d last visited.

Granted, my last visit was probably, oh, ten minutes ago…but still. A new pointless update on celebrity lifestyle, or maybe a wallpost or two would have topped off my finished essay just enough to make it worth checking. Oh dear…potential sundae-metaphor has me craving a Snooks black and tan, and not for the first time this week. Mid-essay, around three last night, Sam and I commiserated the lack of burgers and fries in the flat. Definitely going to fix that today.

Which brings me to the point of today! Being productive. That’s the point of today, and yesterday, and it’s a little too much for my liking. Maybe I’d be of a different opinion had I gotten more than an hour and a half of sleep Saturday night (thank you random group decision to basically pull an all-nighter the night before I have work at nine) and not left my 1500-word coney-catching Literature in History essay untouched until nearly twelve hours before it was due, but hey, that’s what I did. So the latter bad decision resulted in a second nearly all-nighter, which compounded the former bad decision. Toss in the fact that my MUST do laundry date has just fallen on today, and that I desperately need groceries, and there you have it! Whether I like it or not, Monday, November 10th, will be a very productive day in my life.

And I’m not the only one being productive around here. If you think about it for a second, you’ll realize that Thanksgiving is probably not on the English to-do list (though that doesn’t stop the baked-potato shop [no joke] next to my pasty shop from having a “Thanksgiving!” three-for-two 99p deal on garlic bread [???]). Yeah, it’s kinda weird, but I never really was a fan of turkey. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the pseudo-Thanksgiving that Maggie and I come up with for the flat was primarily comprised of just pies. Anyway! When there’s no Thanksgiving, no Macy’s day parade, no requirement for fall decoration past October 31st – do you know what that means? That means that BAM! First day I came into work in November, there was garland and there were Christmas trees and there was fake snow and ornaments strewn where-have-you throughout the entire mall. For the whole of November! That completely boggles my mind!

And as if that were not bogglatory enough, there is the RIDICULOUS amount of shopping that said decorations immediately triggers within the British shopping population. Seriously. I thought there was some sort of economic crisis? But nope. People can still afford to buy so many bags of stuff that it’s impossible to not jab people with while walking past (and not apologizing for doing so, as they just don’t do it here) and then they waltz on into my work and drop £15 on pasties and paninis and toasties. It’s ridiculous!

But it also means I get more hours, and thus more money (though apparently less sleep), so hey, I’m not complaining. Well, I am, but only for the sake of cultural observance and surprise at the monetary science (or lack thereof) of it all.

Oh, and can I just say how vastly unfair it is that I can just pop off 600 words for this blog in twenty minutes but I struggled bitterly for an hour over the last measly 200 words of my essay? Life, you are unfair. Even for a lit major. Who wishes she could just be a creative writing major. Even though that makes it sound like she has no desire to learn about the amazing writing of those before her and just wants to get on with creating some amazing writing of her own.

Okay, time to print. Really now. Time to go off and be productive!

No plans.

I think, even when you’re in a foreign country, you tend to underestimate how amazing it is to have no plans. No plans at all. Today – Saturday, for all you Californians for whom it is still vaguely Friday – I have NO plans. I have no school, I have no school work, I have no work work – and after five days in a row of having all three of those things, no plans is pretty awesome.

Not to say that I don’t like my classes or that I don’t like my job. Both  are much more fun than they have any right to be. But last night, I had the option of doing whatever I wanted because no matter what, Saturday would be spent in the utmost laziness. And now I’m revelling.

Pretty much I had an awesome week. Turned in my first paper [!!!], had my first showed-up-to-a-seminar-unintentionally-completely-unprepared, worked my first four shifts at my job, and when not occupied by all of the above I had floor dinners and quiet movie nights with none other than the bomb-ass fools that I live with.

Ah! For the record, I officially have decided that when English people try and do an American accent, all they end up doing is sounding like a pirate. Oh my gosh, you have to hear it. Given that in British English you generally just ignore half of the r’s (i.e. beer or retarded), that’s the part that seems to prove troublesome so they just over-accentuate it until it seriously reaches pirate status. It’s fantastic and just makes me love English people – the more piratey ones in particular – even more.  =]

I apologize to those of you that sometimes when you try and contact me I have a hard time getting back to you right away. Sometimes I get distracted while responding, other times it literally just falls out of my brain and I don’t remember to write back until like two days later. If that happens, I still love you incredibly. You’ll just have to forgive my epic failure.

It’s 11:00 AM and I am seriously considering crawling back into bed. Late night generally does equal late morning…so why did I wake up at 9:30 again? Yeah, um, it’s sleep time.

Hope everyone enjoys their weekend – no plans or not – and that you don’t do anything too ridiculous! (Or, if you do, make sure to tell me about it. Nothing like a story of ridiculousness to just make life that much better) =]


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photo cred to myself and Maggie J. Moxie
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