Say hello to Gatsby! 

This is Gatsby, a bi-colour ragdoll cat that is so cute I can’t even speak in coherent jf dj fdafjnjkzbfuibdafjknjdkanfkjndwfnjdwbc…. see? Gatsby’s owner was re-homing him and I was delighted to be able to give a new home, full of cuddles and duets. Wait, did I say “duets” out loud? That’s between me, Gatsby and Celine Dion. 

Anyway, he has his own Instagram because he is basically my child and I want to be one of those annoying mothers that’s all “look how gorgeous my son is” “look how much his eyes look like mine” etc etc. Anyway, here are some pictures to make you feel inadequate because let’s face it, he is MAJESTIC. 

My Cat The Stripper and Other Musings

Hi guys! Sorry I’ve been absent lately. Would you believe me if I said I’ve been away doing top-secret spy stuff? No? Good, that’s what I want. Okay. You got me. I’ve really been hanging upside down off my sofa wondering: A) How long would it take for all the blood to rush to my head for me to pass out and B) How the hell do bats do this all the time?! So yes, I’ve been productive. I also got totally hooked on the podcast Serial which kinda stole my life for a week. If you’ve listened to it please come talk to me in the comments because I have no one to speculate with! 

You may remember I was going to a hen party, or bachelorette party to those of you across the water. It was so much fun to catch up with everyone and I had a relatively alcohol-free weekend. I know guys. This is not a drill. I DIDN’T GET WASTED. Does this mean I’m now a grownup?! Wow, that’s scary.

Anyway, I actually stopped by to share probably the best headline you will read today. I was scrolling through an Irish media app that I have when I came across this:

 
Like, WHAT?! I don’t even know where to start with this. I haven’t been to many funerals, but I think if all funerals sounded this exciting, I would go to all of them. Literally, every single one. 

I also wanted to share some pictures of my cat. We got her a scratching post for, you know, scratching. The thing is, she doesn’t actually use it for scratching. She seems to think it’s some kind of stripper pole because she has been hanging off that thing like her name is Kandy Glitterbox and I’ve been resisting the temptation to throw money at her. Or kibble. She’d probably prefer that. 

  

  

I am the worst mom ever…

Sorry that this post is all over the place but you guys know the deal with me by now. I will eventually get around to throwing together a somewhat coherent post soon, but until then why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to while I enroll my cat in a convent school? 

Feline Cosy

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Those of you who follow my blog closely (hi Jack) will know that my dear cat Billie died in July. I mourned for her like I would an actual human or like I did when Friends ended.
We decided to welcome another cat into our lives and we called her Kit. Partly because of our lack of imagination and partly because of our joint obsession with Knight Rider. To say we love her is an understatement. So I thought I’d show you guys a picture of Kit chillin’ (or the opposite, really) by the fire. Oh to be a cat! If you have a pet, I’d love to hear about them!

P.S. I feel guilty for not mentioning my lovely canines, Molly and Oscar. And my guinea pigs. Geez, I should open a petting zoo.

And yes, that is an owl ornament above the fire. I’m not lying about the obsession.

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.

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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.

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http://www.upi.com/Entertainment_News/2014/06/18/Kim-Kardashian-unveils-new-video-game/6321403121336/

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.

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https://imgflip.com/i/2b62o

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.

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http://www.quickmeme.com/Jeremy-Kyle

5. YouTube videos of people falling over

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

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http://www.clickypix.com/17-images-people-falling/

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http://www.personal.psu.edu/afr3/blogs/SIOW/2011/11/falling-is-funny.html
Right? RIGHT?

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

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:

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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.

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

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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?

I’m like a bird

Today a bizarre thing happened. My cat was sitting on the window sill of my bedroom window when all of a sudden she reached out and nabbed a bird in mid flight. This is strange because she’s a house cat and doesn’t really display this predatory instinct very often, but of course, she is a cat and it’s just natural.

Anyway, the poor bird was chirping like crazy so I hopped out of bed attempting to save its life. I chased my cat downstairs and she managed to run faster than I’ve ever seen her go, with the unfortunate bird still chirping hysterically in her mouth. She headed straight for the space under my sink where she knew I wouldn’t be able to reach her. Then she did a strange thing: she left the bird there and trotted up back to bed.

I wasn’t sure if the bird was still alive. I hadn’t seen it but I was assuming it must be pretty small because my cat is tiny and she had carried it with ease. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even nearly fit into the space and it wasn’t like I could gently coax a terrified bird out of there.

So I waited. Sure enough, I heard the flustered fluttering and chirping from underneath the space after some time. Except now, the bird had moved further away and escape was looking a lot less likely.

I was worried. I love animals and I feel an indescribable empathy for them. I really felt for this little bird. I imagined him to be terrified and lonely and it really didn’t help that there was a pair of small bird constantly chirping outside my window. I imagined they were his little bird family, tirelessly looking for their lost friend. I know this seems silly, but I wanted to make sure I could help him to fly out the door safely.

Hours later, as I sat at my kitchen table drinking coffee, I heard the self-conscious flutter of wings. I looked over to the corner of the room where there was a mop and bucket and there he was, eyeing my with a fear I had never thought a bird would be able to express. I was so happy I jumped up a little too energetically. I had to calm myself.

“Hey little dude. Hey. You did it! Now we just got to get you outside,” I said as gently and soothingly as I could. “Jack! Jack, he’s out! He’s out!” I called up to Jack, who had been just as concerned as I was.

I treaded towards the bird as softly as I could but he was startled and began flying around the room in a frenzy.

“No, no, calm! Calm! But look at you, you’re okay!” I was smiling, surprised that he wasn’t injured.

And then it happened. I suppose I should have seen it coming. He went straight for the sliding door and THUD, he banged into it with such a force that I knew straight away that his bid for freedom was over. His life was over.

“No! No!” I screeched, as I bent down to pick his tiny little body up. He was still alive, or just about. I watched him squirm and try to make a sound. I saw pain in his eyes and I watched the life drain from him. I know to some it was “just a bird” and one I didn’t know, but it really upset me.

When Jack came down, expecting to see me jubilant, he instead saw me in tears.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” I pointed to the bird in my palm, and he shook his head. “Oh dear.”

I was a sobbing mess. I could register the confusion on Jack’s face, possibly thinking my reaction was a little OTT.

Yes, I was crying because there was a tiny dead bird in my hand. But there was more to it than that. This bird had survived an attack by a much larger and stronger predator. It has gotten lost in a veritable maze in complete darkness and had managed to find its way out. And then it got killed by a freakin’ door. As I held the tiny lifeless body in my palm, I felt such a strong connection with it. This might sound completely crazy, but I felt like the bird’s struggle was my struggle.

Think about it. You work really really hard. You overcome all the worst obstacles and you take all the crap life throws at you, and then just as you are about to make it, to fly free, a door closes in your face. That’s how I have been feeling lately. It happened to the bird and it has happened to me on more occasions than I care to remember.

There was a silence for some time. Jack, sensing there was more to my tears than the bird, asked me what was wrong. I looked up at him and sadly shook my head. “Life is cruel. That’s what’s wrong. He nearly made it but he didn’t. He saw outside but he didn’t get there.” There was a silence for some time, as I looked at the bird’s broken body. I handed it to Jack to take outside and composed myself.

I don’t really know why I shared this story with you all. It’s not uplifting or funny. On my part, it was probably a total over reaction to something that happens all the time. I guess it just got me thinking about how sometimes you get through the door, and sometimes you don’t. And it reminded me of the struggles I have gone through, as well as the struggles my loved ones have faced. It’s funny what can get you thinking.

If you met me in person…

Do you ever wonder what it would be like to meet another blogger in “real” life?

I know I give off quite the weird vibe on here, but if you were to meet me in real life….actually, I’d give off a weird vibe there too.

Here’s what you would probably think about me:

1. Her accent is funny
My accent ranges from a mild Irish lilt to a full on crazy incomprehensible Cork accent when I’m angry. Think Tom Cruise in Far and Away. Yeah, it’s nothing like that.

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2. She’s actually kinda shy at first
Don’t worry, I wouldn’t just run into the room yelling

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because that would be creepy. I’m more of a “release the creepy slowly” kinda gal.

3. But wait, she is hugging me. And asking me to do karaoke and dance fight with her.
Don’t worry, that just means I’m highly intoxicated. In which case, WATCH OUT.

4. She plays with her hair a lot
This is my worst habit. I just can’t stop. It really takes away the poignancy of “Dulce et Decorum Est” when I’m reading it and twirling my hair.

5. For an English teacher, she uses a lot of incorrect grammar in conversation

What I would write:
I met Mary at the weekend. She asked my how my mother is so I responded that my mother is doing well. In fact, I told her, she’s great.

What I would say:
I ran into Mary at the weekend. She says “how’s yer mudder?” so I goes “she’s grand like. She’s feckin’ great even.”

Don’t hate me.

6. She laughs at her own jokes

I can’t help it if I’m hilarious.

7. Why is she wearing owl jewellery?

Because owls are f**king amazing. Duh.

8. We were talking about the Ukrainian Crisis and she just blurted out that her cat can do handstands

Er, sometimes my mind…goes other places. Weird places.

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9. Her Al Pacino impression is off the hook, yo!

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I don’t know how I figured out I can do this but the important thing is, I can.

10. She says “aaam” constantly. STOP SAYING AM!

I guess this is the Irish various of “um”, but because of my accent, I drag it out and it sounds awful. I say it in every sentence.
When I was training to be a teacher I had to video record one of my classes and show it to my class in college. Hearing myself say “am” 995 times* in a thirty minute period was excruciating. As was tripping over a student’s bag and trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

*sometimes I like to put random asterisks in my posts for no reason. I’m totally joking, I put it there because 995 times is a slight exaggeration. It was more like 980, tops.

Now that you have practically met me, tell me what I would notice about you?

P.S. I also have an annoying slight lisp and a tattoo but no one cares about that.

Too lazy to think of funny title

Even though I’m on work holidays, I got up early this morning.

*pauses*

Erm, I was kinda expecting enthusiastic applause there… but whatever.

I put on my new jogging pants. I even put on a sports bra and my Nike hoodie. I slipped into my Puma running shoes. I was PUMPED.

Then I went to my sofa and watched three hours of trashy TV while eating M&Ms. But I was like dressed like a jogger, so that has to count for something, right?

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I did, however, write a very serious and grownup blog post that I’ll put up later. But first…

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Wanna come throw popcorn at malfunctioning appliances and mumble in monosyllables with me? You can have the red M&Ms. I don’t want them.

Do you talk to yourself?

I talk to myself on an almost daily basis. I would really like to think that I’m not crazy but, well, there’s only so many conversations I can have with myself before I start questioning my own sanity.

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This morning, Jack went to work before me. When my alarm went off, this is how my monologue went:

“Suppose I’d better get up. Man, I’m so warm and snuggly. Is snuggly even a word? Snuggly. Snugg-ly. Hmm. Jane, you’re talking to yourself. I think you need a holiday.”

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Really Joker? REALLY?

Then of course, there was my fight with the toaster. The toaster burned my toast cause the toaster is a d**k.

“Ugh, why can’t you be a regular toaster? Why do you have to be all ‘ooh, I’m a hot toaster’ and incinerate everything?!”

I realised my cat was looking at me, possibly thinking Um, human, there doesn’t seem to be another human around sooo…. who the hell are you talking to?

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Of course, I don’t talk to myself all the time. I’m not a total weirdo. Right? RIGHT?

I just find myself thinking aloud, I suppose. I also have arguments with household appliances, which I almost always win.

The way I look at it, if Hamlet could talk to himself, then so can I. I mean, he turned out fine. Ahem.

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So I’m going to put it to you, lovely readers. Do you talk to yourself? Or am I even more insane than I thought? Am I going to wake up to my cat saying this in the morning?

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What I did instead of writing this blog post

Today at work I was all like “I’m gonna go home and write the BEST blog post ever. I’m gonna write the crap out of it!” I had copious amounts of coffee, a motivational chest bump with one of my colleagues (bad idea, ouch) and I came home. I sat down to write.

And then I procrastinated, which is never a good thing. Just ask Hamlet.

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Here are the things I did instead of writing a blog post:

1. I plaited all my hair.

2. I unplaited all my hair and then gazed in awe at all the wavy goodness.

3. I took a no makeup selfie, because they are all the rage right now.

4. I played flappy bird and then shouted obscenities at my phone. Flappy motherf***er.

5. I juggled with cucumbers.

6. I had an imaginary argument with my annoying neighbour where my best comeback was “so does your mom”.

7. I waltzed with my cat.

8. I spit popcorn into my belly button like the classy b**ch I am.

9. I picked up my guitar and remembered that I can’t play.

10. I shouted “there’s no Santa Claus” at the kids who kicked a ball against my car.

And then I did this.

Did you have a productive day?