My blog is weird

You guys see a very different side to me in comparison to what many people in my life see. My closest friends know that I am pretty…erm…odd, but my work colleagues and casual acquaintances see “professional Jane.”

Professional Jane likes pencil skirts and blazers. She eats rye crackers and discusses politics with men in suits. She analyses exam results and collates them in the form of pie charts. She attends meetings with colleagues and has an actual clipboard. Sometimes, she ties her hair up with a pencil. Yes, professional Jane is a straight-laced, no-nonsense nine to fiver.

Then there’s “crazy Jane”. Crazy Jane tries to teach her cat how to curtsy (she *almost* has it). She has an inexplicable fear of foam and waltzes with herself. She likes to not stalk her neighbours with binoculars and pretend she’s a French mime artist. She also loves wrestling and tequila (in that order). Sometimes, she likes to drive slowly beside random joggers she’s never met while playing Eye of the Tiger. She also likes to frequent karaoke bars where she can rap California Love in its entirety.

So yes, I’m weird. But I’m not always weird. I could come on here and be normal but then you guys wouldn’t be (hopefully) laughing at with me.

In case you guys are wondering, crazy Jane mostly lives in a cage while professional Jane is at work. I let her out in the evening, where she likes to dance to Abba and blog. Crazy Jane sure loves to blog. She also loves talking to all her fellow weirdos and sending them virtual cake. She is uncomfortable with referring to herself in the third person so she’s going to stop now and knit some tea cosies even though she doesn’t have a tea pot. Sinister.

A Tour Through My Very Weird Camera Roll

Happy weekend everyone! LETS GO CRAAAAZY AND DO SHOTS! Haha, not really, let’s wear onesies and watch Finding Nemo.

So today Jack needed to send a text from my phone. I left the room to do important Jane stuff (eat marshmallows and line dance with my cat). When I came in, Jack looked confused.
“What’s up?” I asked, taking my phone back.
“Um, nothing”, he replied, eyeing me suspiciously.
“What?” I prodded. It was obvious something was bothering him.
“Your camera roll on your phone…is…really weird.”
“What else would you expect?” I asked, laughing. He’s right, by the way. It’s insane. Let’s take a look at some of my pictures, shall we?

There this photo of a dog that I don’t own because cute dogs are to me what supermodels are to teenage boys.

I’m not even gonna feel bad about this, it’s gold.


I like to intermittently send this to my friends when they text me gossip.

And this if for when they insult me. Sorry not sorry.




You’re probably sensing a theme here. And yes, there are dozens more of these. Seriously, if I’m ever hacked, this is 97% of my camera roll.

I also like to photograph the back of my head…for art. And research.


There’s an estimated 6000 pictures of my cat asleep. She’s majestic.

I love Steven Seagal.

Here’s a woman I don’t know!

Escargot, aw haw haw!

Messi looks like Eric Bana, yes?

I send this to Jack because he is smarter than me.

I’m sure there’s a good reason I have a picture of Emily Dickinson in my phone…


I gave Jack a makeover.

My cat decided she wanted a bath….

…and that she wanted to wear a turban.

There were some pretty pictures…

…and some pictures of Kevin’s Mom from Home Alone.

My guinea pig taking selfies…

…and a hitch-hiking sheep.

The time I realised my cat is also Spider-Man.




Apparently there was an instance where I needed a picture of the scary nun from The Magdalene Sisters and Emilio from Dangerous Minds. Perhaps I was writing very very weird fan fiction.

This donkey confused me. Is it Rastafarian?

I got sunburnt and looked like the Swiss flag.

I probably had this picture for a very good reason but I cannot remember what that reason was.

There are 36 pictures of my own teeth. I can only assume I was drunk when this happened. Very, very drunk.


There are several face-swap pictures of Jack and I. Disturbing. Very disturbing.

Yes. That is frogspawn.

More Beyonce.

My cat sure knew how to chill.

I bought my guinea pigs a swing and they’re all Little House On The Prairie.

That’s only the ones that are safe for here. Most were of me hugging strangers and climbing lampposts. There were 3 photos of me eating hotdogs and no that is not a euphemism, I was actually eating hotdogs.
If you like, why don’t you show us some of your camera roll? Is it as random as mine?

How To Out-Creep A Creep

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m a weirdo magnet. Ladies, I’ve a feeling I’m not alone here. You all know the deal: you go to a bar with your girls, you wanna get drunk and cry-sing Don’t Stop Believing but there’s a guy who wants to get all up in your junk (I don’t know what that means but it sounds intrusive). You politely tell him you’re not interested. He doesn’t budge. You politely tell him you’re a lesbian. Nope, homeboy is still grinding all up on you. That’s when you need to break out the big guns. One of these lines and you’re free to vomit as much rainbow coloured tequila as your heart/liver desires…or end up in prison, whichever.

1. It’s funny, when one boyfriend is cut up with a machete, Satan sends you another one!


2. Ooh, don’t get so close there sailor! Doctors don’t know what I have but it’s definitely contagious.


3. I can’t believe you’re dancing with me. This is exactly what my cat said would happen.


4. Sorry, I just cut one. *sniffs air* I don’t remember having chilli.


5. If I could make a boyfriend out of dough, I’d make you…but I can’t. Trust me, I tried.


6. I’m sorry, I can’t listen to this song with you. Mom doesn’t allow me to listen to rap.


7. Your shirt is cool. I sewed my dog the same one. He wears it for all our business meetings.


8. Thanks. I have all of my own hair. And all of my own teeth. Plus these extras that I carry around in my pocket.


9. *While dancing* “If ya got numerous STDs put ya hands in the ay-arrrre!”


10. I’m just trying to forget my jealous ex-boyfriend, “Stabby-Pete”.


P.S. I got some good test results today that rule out anything serious so brewskis all round!

What’s up with me and other thoughts..

Sup guys?

(Ok, so that’s me trying to come across all nonchalant but really I MISSED YOU ALL.)

I’ve been in and out of the doctor’s and I’m still waiting on an appointment for more tests to find out what exactly is going on with me, but I can definitely rule out Juggler’s Arm because my juggling is still on point. (And also, because I made up Juggler’s Arm.)


So, I’m still making bad jokes but at least I’m not bombarding you with pictures of owls. That was a trick, here’s an owl:


Here are some random thoughts I’ve had today:

I really love this time of year because I get to throw bunches of leaves at people I don’t like.

I would really love to go on a slide.

No one can pull off dungarees.

The thought of someone wearing dungarees and crocs makes me feel physically ill.

If I had a llama, I would call him Brian.

I would look hilarious with a perm.

I would love to go to a hoedown.

I’m scared of the Cirque du Soleil.

1940s style and music was amazing.

I also watched this video, and cried. But they were happy tears. If you want to have all the warm feelings, check it out:

I’m back to work, and I’m also teaching adults now *gives you a few minutes to stop laughing*. It’s actually a lot of fun and I’m being totally mature…ish. It is a little weird having ladies in their mid-fifties call me “miss”, even though I insist they call me by my first name. They are just so polite and I’m actually a little in awe of them.
It’s very surreal for me because these ladies are the same age as my mother and they were educated in a time where a teacher was seen as a very authoritative presence. Maybe I should stop bringing the whip?

So that’s what’s been going on in my life (I also got abducted by aliens but no one cares about that). Tell me about what’s going on with you?

I made the short list!

If you guys didn’t have a chance to catch the international news today, you may not know that I have been shortlisted by The Blog Awards Ireland in the Best Humour Blog category.


I am thrilled! And hungry…but mostly thrilled! If it wasn’t for my lovely and loyal followers then I would have no reason to blog, so I owe this to you guys. There’s a gratitude owl on its way to you as we speak. (It’s basically a regular owl, but it curtsies.)

Time for me to go party*.

*Not really because I have school tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have a a cup of tea and not use a coaster….okay, I’ll use a coaster.

My Awkward Moment of the Day

Even though my entire life is an exercise in awkwardness and social discomfort, there is a silver lining. Whenever I find myself thrust (sometimes literally…) into the middle of an embarrassing scenario, I think to myself “I can’t wait to blog about this.” So, you see, it’s not all bad.

Today I decided that I wanted, nay NEEDED, croissants in my life. Possibly chocolate filled, my inner fat kid mused…fattily. So I decided to drive (my inner fat kid doesn’t like when I walk) to the local shop. Since it’s a five minute drive through multiple speed bumps, I decided against wearing my seatbelt. I also wanted to air-guitar/air-drum my way through “In Bloom” by Nirvana and my seat belt restricts my mojo slightly. Okay, that’s stupid. You should ALWAYS wear a seatbelt. ALWAYS. And I always* do. Except today.

I drive to the shop. I buy croissants (not chocolate-filled, because diabetes) and I drive home, again sans seatbelt. My iPod is on shuffle. I’ve got pastry. Life is good….

If you’re offended by this, sorry. I’ll go pose with a leprechaun or something.

…Until I notice a Garda checkpoint directly in front of my house. For my dear foreign friends, a Garda checkpoint is basically a police blockade where they check things like tax, insurance, licence, NCT (the Irish equivalent of the MOT, basically that your car has been certified road-safe) and of course, that you are wearing your seat belt. It is enough to strike fear into any person’s heart, never mind a person who is eating a croissant, air-keyboarding (to The Doors, FYI) and definitely not wearing a seatbelt. Needless to say I panic slightly.

The male Garda** motions for me to stop. I’m in a state of panic. I have to indicate, I have to change gears, I have to roll down the window, I have to reach for my licence but most of all, I have to try to smoothly and subtly put on my seatbelt without him noticing, which is pretty much impossible since he has been maintaining ice-cold eye contact with me the entire time.


Now I want you to picture this, reader. I want you to visualise this scenario because I promise you, you will have all the LOLs. And I won’t ever say that again.

I nervously pull over. I have four croissants on my lap (don’t be silly, there’ll not all for me. Jack will have one). One is in my mouth and I’m chewing furiously, frowning at the flaky pastry stuck to my chest. Dignity? Nope, never heard of it. I’m trying to veeerrrrry slowly put on my seatbelt while also reaching for my licence. I’m also rolling down the window. My iPod is still blaring out songs on shuffle, but I don’t think to turn the dial down, and also, I’m not an octopus (…yet, it depends how the surgery goes).

Are you with me, reader? Are you picturing all of this? A panicked girl with a seatbelt half on, half off, covered in pastry being approached by a very stern looking man? Okay, good.

Just as the guard gets to my window,
I’m about to explain that I only travelled to the local shop and that I’m sorry and he’s probably about to ask my for my licence. It could of all been very simple. A deserved slap on the wrist for me, a pretty forgettable encounter for him. But no. My life is never that simple.

Before either of us could utter a word, my iPod shuffle decides “hey, you know what would be hilarious? To play the most awkward and inappropriate song at the exact moment that you don’t want to hear it. Har hat har. I may be a robot but I’m hilarious.”

So just as both of us are about to speak, this song plays. I want you to picture the scenario. An already awkward encounter between two strangers, and before anyone speaks, this. Blaring through my stereo.



I’m not sure if the thumbnail of this song is appearing or not but I think it’s more hilarious if it doesn’t. So, surprise!

There’s a moment where I have no reaction, but to just freeze. As the iconic intro begins, we both turn to each other and make the most awkward eye contact ever. Garda’s mouth twitches slightly. He’s going to laugh. He clears his throat.
I reach for the dial and manage to turn the song down just before the titular line is sung and I actually die of awkwardness.

“Am, you’re grand. You’re grand. Drive on there.” He motions me forward. I understand, Garda. Any extension of this encounter may result in us both dying from awkwardness. I complete the fifteen second drive to my door where I decide that this is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Ever.

*I may need to revise the definition of the word “always”
**Member of the Irish police force, An Garda Síochána

What distracts you?

Hello my little pine cones! (I don’t know either.)

I have been busy adulting hard (you know, making bubble foam beards in the bath and prank phone calling my neighbours…FYI, their refrigerator is running). I wanted to tell you guys I got a new cat, because having no cats was just not an option for me.

She’s basically me, in cat form.

I’m almost back to work, and I could not be feeling less productive. With this in mind, I thought I would fill you all in on the many things that distract me from, well, doing anything productive.

1. My new cat

She has to be taught all of these valuable skills, like how to curtsy. You know, just in case the queen ever drops by. Surprisingly, it’s quite difficult to get it just right.

2. My phone

Jack: Did you hear me?
Me: Hmm?
Jack: Jane!
Me: Just a sec….
Jack: Are you playing that damn Kim Kardashian game?
Me: If I don’t complete this modelling job, Kim is going to be so disappointed in me.
Jack: And you don’t want to let virtual Kim down.
Me: Exactly.

Please don’t hate me guys.


I’m also annoyingly addicted to Candy Crush Saga, Facebook and watching cat gifs.

3. Sleeping

I cannot stop sleeping. I’m more of a narcoleptic than Sleeping Beauty. I’m Sleeping Beauty without the beauty. (I could do this all day, but I’ve got cat gifs to watch.)

Basically, since I got holidays, I just can’t stay awake. I’ve become a consummate pro at sleeping. Hey, for all you know, I’m asleep right now.


4. Trashy TV

Jack: What did you do today?
Me: Erm, I watched a documentary about…the…effects of…global warming on…North African…giraffes.
Jack: You watched back to back episodes of Jeremy Kyle, didn’t you?
Me: Yes. Yes I did.

<img src="https://cupidorcats.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/img_4214.jpg"

5. YouTube videos of people falling over

I don’t think I need to explain this really.


Right? RIGHT?

So, tell me what distracts you while I go play with this shiny thing….

Why so not serious?

When I was told I had epilepsy, one of my closest friends was quite upset.
“How do you think I feel?” I asked her one evening, “if I collapse at a strobe light party, people will just assume I’m pop and locking.”

An epileptic seizure is only about twenty percent as fun

She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

I considered her question. I take some things seriously. Like choosing pizza toppings. (If you are one of those people who thinks pineapple is an acceptable choice for a pizza topping then I’m sorry, we can’t be friends anymore.) Or what kind of head dress my dogs should wear on Christmas Day (I usually go with reindeer antlers, but elf hat is always a contender).

Of course I am serious sometimes. It’s not like I show up to funerals dressed as a court jester…anymore. I even have a bonafide serious face. Sometimes I wear a monocle.

My serious face has slightly less feathers. And also, OWL!

The thing is, I have always turned to humour even in the most difficult of times. I don’t mean to be insensitive or inappropriate, but I find that having a sense of humour in difficult situations is one of my best coping mechanisms. I mean sure, I could cry my eyes out, eat my own weight in cookie dough and wallow in self pity and Blue Nun OR I could cry my eyes, eat my own weight in cookie dough, wallow in self pity and Blue Nun and laugh about it afterwards. I try not to take life too seriously because being Kim Jong Un does not look like much fun (except for the bouffant which he totally rocks).

I know some people could accuse me of being immature. I say, I know you are but what am I? And also, we get one shot at this whole life malarkey. Why not spend it laughing and making inappropriate poo jokes? Or getting drunk and riding roller coasters? (Aside: that’s probably not the best idea. You may end up getting vomit in your hair and crying on the shoulder of a stranger. Or something.)
There are so many fun things to do. There are so many silly things to say. There are so many ways to smile. And all of these are a lot more fun than stressing out. There’s nothing more attractive to me than a person who is self deprecating. I love someone who can make mistakes and then laugh at themselves, or someone who is okay with not being perfect.

So, you can either scoff at my post and resent my futile attempt at making you smile or you can come throw water balloons at my grumpy neighbours with me. Your call.

I’m here!

LADS! I’m sorry I’ve been absent, but I had to do really important work for NASA, which is top secret, classified information and because I don’t want to compromise the safety of any of my lovely followers, I can’t discuss it further.

Any chance anyone actually believed that?

No? Oh fine.

Basically, I was in hospital. Then my cat (aka, my best friend and I don’t care if that’s sad. I’m sad) died. It was horrible. I also had an allergic reaction to some medication that made me look like the Michelin Man with a bad case of acne. So yes, last week SUCKED.
I looked like this for the entire week:

Basically me, but with slightly more plastic surgery

You guys know it’s not like me to disappear for an entire week. I’m like that younger sibling that just won’t stop poking you. POKE.
So you know I’m being honest when I say, this week was the worst week of my life.

Never one to dwell on negativity *cries into my popcorn*, here are some random things that happened to me this week:

I made friends with an old lady and then she said “we’ll never see each other again”. I thought I’d made a new BFF, but whatever.

My brother invited me to visit him in London so I’m going next week. I’m going to go all Joey Tribbiani and be super-tourist.

I got ma hurrr did (that’s me referencing Missy Elliott to try and gain brownie points with my hundreds of followers who are female, hairstyle loving, Missy Elliott fans).
Translation: I have a new hairstyle.

I had a dream that the New Horizons probe reached Pluto and then woke up disappointed when I realised it was a dream. So yes, even in my dreams, I’m a nerd.


I had an amazing sandwich and I’m unapologetic about how food-obsessed and pathetic that makes me look. Because…bacon.

I feel ya, brah.

I high fived a giraffe.

Shock twist: One of these is a lie.

I’m now going to reply to comments and catch up with you guys, and we can plait each other’s hair and stay up aaaaall night together, deal?

So then I ended up in hospital…

So yesterday I ended up in hospital. Oops.

I got severe pelvic and back pain (which I actually mentioned in a post back in April) yesterday and my doctor sent me straight to the assessment unit to be seen by the surgical doctor at my local hospital. Eep.

If I thought my doctor visit was uncomfortable, oh ho, compared to this it was a freakin’ foot rub on a LILO.

I’m not going to go into all the gory details (because my dignity is currently trying to “find itself” somewhere in Outer Mongolia) but let’s just say there was needles, scans, samples (shudders), tears, poking, prodding and young male doctors with gloves. Rubber gloves.

The good news is, I’m probably okay. The bad news is:


If there’s any internet tequila going around, I’d really appreciate a shot or twelve. Thaaaanks.