My apologies to your browser--there are a lot of pictures in hurrr.

I know most people express their love for facially-based follicles in November, so you can accuse me of being behind the times or unfashionable or whatever. That’s okay. I can take it. My current celebration of the scruffy stuff is inspired by Christmas.

No, that’s not why.

Wrong again.

One of my oldest friends was my Secret Santa and, knowing me a little too well, gave me this fella’.

His name is Valentino. Swoon.

He loves Christmas, Spanish reds, and sweet potato pancakes.

Back on track.

Valentino’s glorious arrival comes on the heels of a discussion among my housemates about facial hair. Specifically, the fact that beards seem to be considered trustworthy and lovely, while moustaches are only for men who want to tie you to the train tracks or worse.

I tried to defend the moustache by listing all of the trustworthy and wholesome ones in the world, but my struggle to do so pretty much proved my opponents' argument.

So what does this mean?

Probably not a whole lot in the grand scheme of things.

I am almost positive, however, that there is a mathematical equation that explains my particular relationship with facial hair. That is, the more questionable and unsavoury a man's facial hair is, the more likely I am to trust/be attracted to him.

Exceptions:

Starburns from Community.

Neckbeards.

'Prove it, Liz! You can't just make these wild statements. Back up your thesis. See, this is why you'll never succeed as an academic. You make me sick.'

Okay. Ouch, but I get your drift.

Exhibit A: John Waters

The pencil-thin moustache is associated with general creepiness the world over, and matching it with a Santa hat for a mugshot isn't likely to endear one to the PTA any time soon. Knowing that this type of moustache is so reviled should be enough to dissuade any man from cultivating one for himself. But he's John fucking Waters. Man gets the joke. I appreciate that. I'd much rather leave the kids with him if I'm out for the night than with that snotty girl from up the block. Psh. Charging me twelve bucks and hour so you can sit on my couch and eat all the Pringles? I don't think so.

What I am trying to say is that I trust him because he can laugh at himself. And I kind of adore him anyway.

Exhibit B: Tom Waits

Not a moustache, I know, but a soul patch is just the worst. We all know it. If we go back to that old math equation, though, it holds true.

It's the most hated of facial hair formations.

And he is the hottest thing on two legs.

Do the math.

Exhibit C: Sam Rockwell

Mr. Rockwell has made a career out of being skeazy-but-endearing, so it stands to reason that he would have something awful on his upper lip at some stage. He makes people feel the need to shower. Whether those showers are hot or cold, however, depends on the person. Heyyyo. But, really. The man looks shady enough without the 'stache, so it's addition should be the proverbial cricket bat to the skull. And yet, dear readers, as I sit here all schnuggly in my jimjams I find myself wishing I had his number so I could invite him over for a movie night. Because he looks like a solid guy. And he'd probably bring a few of the remaining cans of Four Loko in the area to make it a party. He's a good friend.

Exhibit D: Zachariah Hickman

There is nothing to defend here. This moustache is the stuff of legends.

Plus, there's the song.

Follower Love-Fest #16: Gazel M

Were it not for the fact that she does, I'd be convinced that Gazel is too cute to function. Her blog, Bonjour Gazel, is a dreamland of cute smiles and fantastic clothes. Not gonna' lie, kids, I kind of want to be her. Or, at the very least, to live in the Narnia of her wardrobe. Just cardigans and blouses and ruby shoes all day. And, I know this might be creepy, but Mr. Waters would support me in saying that this girl has the most perfect mastery of lipstick in the history of lip rouging. Oh, and you should buy things (for me) from her.

OHAI.

Right. I've decided to get back in the saddle before the New Year so that it can't be chalked up as a resolution that I have no intention of keeping up with.

Hope you all had a lovely holiday/blizzard. I have a bit of holiday cheer left over, so I thought I might share.

Yeah. It's that kind of post.

Anyway, it's now time for

Follower Love-Fest #15: Susan

I actually love this girl and her blog, Bit Cat. She hasn't updated since August, I know, and that makes me sad all day. Still, her posts are like sunshine. They are upbeat and tend to be picture-heavy, making them just my speed. Did you click through yet? If you did you will have noticed and remarked upon the glory of Susan's hair and the adorability of her pets to your imaginary friend Saul. Oh, Saul, you so crazy.

Reading Week Blues

No blues, really.

I got a fair bit of work done. Admittedly, I lost some of my 'I'm going to show Third Year what's for!' steam, meaning I also spent a little too much appreciating my comforter. It was bound to happen.

Exciting-type stuff:

- I got a remote internship for an online magazine, which I'm pretty jazzed about. They were kind enough to take me up, despite the string of expletives I mumbled at my computer while my Skype spazzed out during the interview.

-I'm now writing for one of my university's publication's sites. Holy possessive, Batman! Given, the post isn't up yet, but it has been written and that's half the battle for me.

Oh, and but Justin Townes Earle is going to be in town in January.

'Are you going to get tickets, Liz?'

'Shut up! Is it January yet?'

In short, I am very excited and think that this is just the right kind of surprise I needed after losing several battles with the photocopier/the will to live.

If you don't know who this young man is, that's fine. It was about time for an embedded YouTube clip anyway.

Even more excited.

_

Follower Love-Fest #14 : Frannie

Frannie is a great gal, it must be said. Our friendship is not entirely based on our mutual love for early Twentieth Century circuses, but it's not hurt by it either. Whenever I visit her in Florida, we're hella' subversive in our avoidance of Disney. Instead, we reenact episodes of Dexter with the aid of food dye and voice-overs recorded on our trusty Talkgirls.

Close enough.

We're about a month into Third Year, folks. How terrifying is that? Well, if you're a twenty-year-old who yo-yos between being easily distracted from her work by anything going and Sudden Death Stress Mode, it's pretty damn scary. Things are going pretty well so far, though.

Well, barring that two week period (a.k.a. 'the first two weeks of classes') when I split my time between a hospital bed and my apartment.

Yep. The night after a glorious 'Welcome Back to College!' Star Wars marathon in our new flat I woke up all puffy and cute. Several trips to the hospital later, I was a medical mystery. It would have been cooler if Hugh Laurie were insulting my intelligence and popping pills all sexy-like, but, alas, most of my doctor dealings ran closer to the hospital scene from Idiocracy.

It's all gravy now. I think I've caused enough mental and emotional anguish for my loved ones for a while. Seriously. The levels of loveliness reached by everyone around me were borderline dangerous.

And Third Year Liz is a force to be reckoned with. She goes to bed early(ish), plans ahead, pays the bills, does (almost) all of her reading, and sends internship applications months before deadlines require. As I type this, I already have my schedule set to be in college all day.

'But you have no classes on Thursdays.'

'I know. I'd like to get into the library before my responsibilities start at noon. Secondary reading, you know.'

On the one hand, the fact that I am fast becoming the Squarest of Them All is making me sick. I mean, I never had much street-cred to begin with. This responsibility kick is going to seriously weaken my chances of getting into the T-Birds.

Por otro lado, I really hope it lasts. This kind of frenzy I've been working myself into reminds me of high school. Back in the day, I was a beast. I don't want to quite reach that level of insanity again, as I've become quite accustomed to more than three hours of sleep, but I do appreciate my down time a lot more when there is so little. My little cup of green tea tastes better because I earned that mofo. And because I treated myself to a super-neato trip to the tea shop, but whatever.

Things to keep in mind:

-I've only kept this nonsense up for a week and a half, so we'll see what happens.

-Buddy will always support me.

-

Follower Love-Fest #13: Anne Brown

Annie here loves to Vogue. She just can't get enough of it. Ask her, 'Whatchu' lookin' at?' I dare you. It's a sure-fire way to get this little lady snapping her fingers and striking a pose like it's going out of style. Really, Anne just loves Madonna. We nearly parted ways during a lunch when I said that Madonna's arms make me want to curl up in a ball and hide behind Michelle Obama. I wound up wearing Anne's slice of Key lime pie in my hair on the walk home. Who looked stupid? I did.

Well, that lasted long.

Pictured: Several of the rocks I've been hiding under.

I intend to be up and running, clogging your feeds with YouTube links and some reference to baked good or another in the next few days. Until then, I give you the entry I had meant to post about three weeks ago. Progress is progress.

-

Hello, kids. I'm a bad blogger and I know it. My constant dry spells and subsequent need for forgiveness are just part of my charm though, right? It was near-August when I last posted. Oops. Here are a few things I've learned since then.

-An instrument tuned to A440 'makes you a little nervous'. (Thank you, Steve Lindley.)

-Couples love me. I don't know what it is, ladies and gentlemen, but something about me puts romantic duos in a giving mood. Give me your spare water bottle? Sure. Let me move to the front row of the concert? But of course. Swipe me through when my MetroCard isn't working? Don't give it another thought.

-Teaching hospitals are considerably less fun than an episode of Scrubs when you're on the patient-side of things.*

-It is possible for me to send several letters to the wrong addresses. Twice.

-Rabbit is delicious.

-Telling your brain to shut up when a situation is entirely out of your hands will make for a much more enjoyable time. I mean, there's nothing you can do about potentially being trapped on a island, is there?

-Road rage is easier to manage with a rubber orca in the passenger's seat.

-Airport security personnel really appreciate winter-wear.

-Finding the ridiculous nightshirt of your dreams is well worth the risk of bed bugs.

-I am just as gullible as I was at five. Creator of that Mars hoax, you broke my heart.

Follower Love-Fest #12: Z

I love the mystery of Z. One letter is all you need, and it's just the right one when A-Y just won't do. Z is, as his (her? I really don't know.) picture will show, is a leather-clad warrior who is liable to take your ass down a peg or two if you so much as look at his Beanie Baby collection the wrong way.

-

*This one will come up again in our next edition, too. El ohh el.

Anyway, I'm trying out this new thing where I'm a truly productive member of society. I get up early, eat wholesome breakfasts, get all my work done, am highly involved in extracurriculars--all that kind of stuff. Or, at least, that's the idea. We'll see how it works out.

No more excuses.

Hey, folks. Okay. Back and ready for business.

Since my last post, I

-had very little Internet access

-thought Mortimer the Mac was dead. Again.

-was able to revive the little bastard. (Might change his name to Lazarus. It's a thought.)

-caught a crazy-bad case of strep throat out of nowhere.

-mostly recovered from said illness, thanks to many pills and daytime TV.

-got my first adult American passport.

Please feel free to finish the sentence with any of those options, since they're all true.

I find the last one the most exciting/scary bananas because it means that I can no longer escape my fate as an adult, at least in the eyes of the United States government.

Yeah, well tell that to my steady diet of ice pops and chicken soup.

It is really exciting, though.

So, now I'm going to read your blogs until the one title I know of for next year's reading list arrives in the mail.

Awww yeah.

_

Follower Love-Fest #11: Alegra

Alegra's blog, Dollface is Candysweet, is one of the first that I clicked the friendly little 'Follow' button on. It must be said, first and foremost, that she is a Grade A cutie-patootie, and I don't mind saying so. Her closet is nothing short of enviable. Or is it her style? Hell, it's probably both. Pluse, she's funny as hale. Case and point: 'i can also never leave the house without my primark denim shirt. it does to me what american apparel does to other people. it makes me think i'm cool.' Did you laugh? Of course you did. Oh, and her DVD collection (it's her background in most outfit posts) is worthy of some mouth-dropping, too.

I am not a golden god.

I'm not going to bother apologizing for the repeated lull in activity because I recently had two experiences which forced me to come to terms with the fact that I am a mere mortal.

UNO - I exceeded my bandwidth on Photobucket. I had been posting gifs, screencaps, and silly pictures all over the internet, not thinking for a moment that my Dancing Artie Party would ever end.

Exhibit A:

Then, horror struck. I was cut down in my prime, all of my situationally-hilarious snippets turned to badges of shame.

Exhibit B: That's what shame looks like, folks.

Now I know that I have to slow my roll. Or, at the very least, create an army of accounts, thus further crowding my life with clutter. Not sure if digital clutter is quite the same as a collection of Burger Kings toys from the 90s, but you get what I mean.

Dos - Being a good American, I wanted a PB&J. Two slices of rye and one spoonful of Jif later, it was time for the jammyjam. Got my raspberry goodness all set up and was about to seal the deal/the bread together in a delicious matrimony until I saw an irregular lump on the jammyjam side. IT WAS A BUG, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. A DEAD BUG.

Not that I try to relate every possible moment of my life back to Anne Shirley and her shenanigans, but all I could think (other than, 'Ew. Ew. Ew.') was, 'Well, I suppose in the end it was a romantic way to perish. For a bug.'

My sentiments exactly, Ms. Shirley.

_

There is always good news! Despite technological failings on my part, the Fringe posts are finally up. Belated One and Belated Two.

_

Follower Love-Fest #10: Rich

Rich's blog is the glorious Bittersweet. I don't know where he gets all of these recipes and, quite frankly, I don't care. Everything looks tasty and gives my baking-challenged self hope that I can make tasty treats without burning the house down or poisoning my loved ones. Plus, he's a snarky dude, which I love. Hey, he says it himself, 'Sugar and sarcasm.' Always a winning combination.

When I said that I would start reading for my classes, I don

't think I was very clear.

What I meant to say was, 'I am going to carry around my copy of Metamorphoses, read about twenty pages, then get distracted, reread all of my Vonnegut books, try to organize my bookshelf, and make iced tea.' Sorry for any confusion.

Yep.

As with last time, the internet ate my newest Fringe post. Cue combination of me feeling like a douchenozzle and hating technology.

I might hop in the car and take advantage of those stress relievers labelled 'Free Windows' in front of a house up the road.

In other news, after a year of being sweaty and cranky, we finally got the air conditioner fixed. HIGH FIVE ME, INTERNET.

That is technology I can get behind. I know, I know. It's a luxury that our ancestors got along without just fine. But our ancestors also thought that maggots came from dirty rags and that mercury could cure venereal diseases. And that's just science.

Goddamn right, Azrael.

Oh ho ho. I made a funny.

Plan for the day:

-Call up jobs to check in again. (Are you sick of this yet? Tough break. So am I.)

-Unpack properly. Oops.

-Call the camera repair shop to see what the damage is to the Hammer and my wallet.

-Buy glitter.

-Run some other sundry errands.

-Make veggie burgers?

_

Follower Love-Fest #9: Min

Min's blog, Don't Say Stuff Like That, is an eyegasm. Don't look at me like that. It's a delightful mix of film screencaps, fashion, fantasmagorical shoes, and sexy people. You don't know it, but I took a ten second pause there to be distracted by the pictures of Tim Roth just chilling on the main page. Are you still here? I can't for the life of me understand why.

I hear my train a comin'

I've spent the better part of the last three days taking a break from my (terribly unsuccessful) job hunt, riding around on trains.

That statement is not exactly accurate.

I've left follow-up messages and applied to another dozen or so establishments, but that's still a lot less than I'd been doing before.

Mostly because I've run out of places to apply.

Besides, all the trains have been taking me to visit friends.

On Wednesday, I met up with two friends from college and we went to the Museum of Natural History. I don't know what it is about the summer time that always makes me want to look at dead animals, but I see to be there a lot when the pollen count is high. I was so happy to see them that it was difficult to wipe the big, stupid grin off of my face, even when staring down a T-Rex. After the museum, I had to rush to my not-so-little cousin's graduation from middle school. It was hot as Hell in the auditorium, but I didn't care. I was such an embarrassing mush. I remember when you were thiiiiiiiis big.

Yesterday, I went down to see mah buddeh in Philadelphia. I'd seen him once (maybe twice?) since we started university and, while that is shameful beyond belief, it's still more than a lot of people. I mostly marveled at his most glorious apartment. It is glorious. And then we just chilled, which was nice. I kind of hate that word, but that's just what it was. There's a lot to be said for spending six hours doing nothing but laughing with an old friend. Of course, there was about ten minutes where we were running in the lashing rain, but we laughed almost the whole way through that, too. Serves us right for venturing out into the world.

I guess that brings us to today. I'm just about to head to the train station to meet up with my friend and her family at their house down the Shore. She is one of the few people that I was able to keep up steady contact with since high school, and I love this girl and her family to Pluto and back. I mean, I love all of my friends to a degree that borders on obsession, but whatever. I am crazy-excited. I predict much hugging and movie-watching. I can live in hope that we will build sandcastles for the sole purpose of violently destroying them.

ALSO, I have received absurdly glorious letters and packages in the post. They are glaring at me with their wondrousness because, while I have most of my letters written, I have failed to post them yet. My glitter reserves are low and I refuse to send any parcel which is not bursting with that shimmering nuisance. I have rules.

I'm coming up on finishing my fifth non-coursework book, so I've packed something vaguely related to college for this round of trains. I don't know when I became such a slow reader. It would be annoying if I had any deadlines. As I do not, I'm mostly just confused.

Sent the next round of stuff for Fringe the other day, so I'll let you know when it's up.

Stay cool!

Follower Love-Fest #8: Tam Tran

Tam Tran is a master basket-weaver. This is no joke. After winning the Basket World Challenge from 1999-2009, she holds the record for consecutive awards in the international competition.

When not practicing her craft, Tran likes to take strolls on Saturn's rings. She says that the rings smell like wood pulp and, thus, remind her of her childhood. She grew up a few doors down from a paper factory. She makes a mean beef stroganoff.

Meant to be a music post, buuuuut...

...that's just not going to happen.

My first full day home, my parents and I saw Jeff Beck in concert.

It wasn't religious experience, but it was certainly better than any mass I've ever been to.

That man is magical. No lie.

Also, his opening act was a big surprise.

I almost died of excitement over seeing that legend and this sexy betch on the same night.

And then performing together.

My gushing would be intolerable were I to go on.

Trying to keep this in the vein of music schtuff. I'm seeing the Goo Goo Dolls in two weeks.

I know that this will do nothing for my street cred, but I love these guys and I will not apologize.

The only thing that upsets me is Johnny's plastic surgery.

I mean, with his bone structure and highlights, he was the man of my nine-year-old self's dreams.

WHYYYYYYY?

I'm not sure my achy breaky heart is going to be able to cope with seeing my pre-teen dreamboat so low.

Let's console ourselves, dear readers, with those who have aged well.

Really well.

Get out of my dreams, and into my car.

Well, we all saw this one coming.

Where are you hiding, Thora? Your public misses you!

In fairness, he was thirty when he played Cameron.

And, for my own personal delight, please note how much RDJ looks like a young Ezra Pound when he rocks that skeazy facial hair.

_

Follower Love-Fest #7: Lodi

Huzzah for a profile I can actually get to! Not that I need one, as I've been on this lovely laydeeee's blog quite a few times, creeping like it's going out of style. That wasn't meant to be some kind of pun/joke thang because she writes a style blog, but there you go. It happened. All the same, I often want to kill her and steal her clothes and garden, but then there would be no more blog or Lodi and I would be very sad. Also, I'd be in jail, and I just couldn't cut it in the clink. What I am getting at is that you should check her out. And marvel at her hair.

In the spirit of this post being all over the place, HAPPY FATHERS' DAY (even though it was technically yesterday)!

Home.

I forgot what humidity was until I got home.

My hair's not a fan, but I really like it when there's so much water in the air that you never quite feel dry. It's kind of like a security blanket.

For the past three days I've been waking up to chirping birds and rustling leaves and all of those stereotypical summer sounds.

My favourite, though, is the sound the plaster and wood of the walls make as the sun heats everything up. They groan and knock on all sides of every room.

It's not subtle either. I think that these sort of hazy descriptions are supposed to be more part of the scenery, but the creaks are loud and don't stop until I get out of bed to start the day.

Actually, they don't stop until nighttime, and then it's time for cicadas.

I miss college and everyone there already. Still, I am glad to be home.

I haven't seen any of my friends yet, but that will change in a few hours when people come over for pizza and movies.

FearNet is a distinct possibility. Awwwww yeah.

Vair, vair excited, even though I've been running around on the job hunt all day, everyday since I arrived back and have failed miserably at reestablishing any form of a sleep schedule.

Oh, and the Internet has contacted me.

Time to call Will Smith.

What else, what else?

Went to a concert with my parents, but that's for another time.

Because I am le tired.

And I'm watching The African Queen.

I love this movie way too much, and not just because of Humphrey Bogart.

Well, he doesn't hurt.

Um. My new Fringe post is up. I'm doing some ~research~ for the next one.

That was my attempt at creating suspense.

Aaaaaaaanyway...

_

Follower Love-Fest #6: Chelsey

Okay, I'm pretty sure that this whole not-being-able-to-click-through-to-profiles problem comes from my own poor understanding of technology. Every time this happens, I'm just going to make up things about my beautiful readers. And then I'll have to go to confession for lying. Or something.

Chelsey and I met on a cruise to Barbados. Originally, the trip was meant to have gone to Alaska, but there was a sudden tax on Bugles that year. The ship's captain, a big fan of the salty treats, had quite a stock on board and refused to pay the tax on principle. So, we changed course. The two of us met while trading our jumpers for sundresses when we docked. We've been pals ever since.

Bad habits.

I've always had a few.

I bite my nails, chew my lips, crack my knuckles, play with my head (the whole thing) when I'm sleepy, and fidget.

Thank God I never actually went to cotillion, or the the instructor would have likely been arrested for attempting to beat these most unladylike qualities out of me.

And I just couldn't deal with the guilt.

My newest habit is leaving the updating of this blog for too long, and then falling behind on reading as well.

Shameful.

Quick recap:

-I'm twenty. Icky, but I think I'll get by.

-My parents came over and good times were had, as predicted. We went on a family trip and it was amazing and I can't wait to see them again in a few days.

-I'm going between packing, cleaning, editing photos from the trip, and taking spontaneous naps right now.

-My last Fringe post was lost in the Internet, due to my own position as a spaz, but it's up now. So, that's cool, even though I felt awful for mucking things up.

-Mah buddeh took a five hour bus ride to visit me and I am so not worthy of her gloriousness. Where are Wayne and Garth when you need them?

Nevermind. I found them.

-Trying to get my act together in a big, bad way. I WILL READ YOUR BLOGS. Note the use of CAPS.

_

Follower Love-Fest #5: KLH

Okay, I'm going to be honest with you, kids. As with the first batch of lovely people, I can't click through to this young lady's profile. I hope she won't consider it libel if I just make things up. KLH's hair smells like fresh strawberries. She once made a cookie-pie big enough to feed all of the kindergardeners in her school district, and hand-delivered the slices to the twelve kids who were out sick with the chicken pox that day. Professor Utonium is her real dad.

_

And, just so you know, it's Judy Garland's birthday. I love this woman. Celebrating with a PB&J for dinner.

Happy birthday, Ms. Garland.

FDR, forever. I gotchu, girrrrrrl.

I couldn't avoid it if I wanted to, so just deal.

LOVE!

Just about twenty.

According to my clock, I've been twenty for almost three hours. No changes to report yet.

Some might say that this is because turning twenty isn't a big deal/time is relative/it's all a bunch of overblown poppycock.

I say that it's because I was born in a different time zone, and not at the stroke of midnight. In my books, I am still nineTEEN. Because I am nineTEEN, I am still allowed to capitalize portions of my words which would not otherwise be capitalized.

I am also allowed to tell you that I am up at this hour because I am super-excited that my parents will be here in four hours. I know it's not cool to get on with your parents, but I adore mine.

Yeah. I said it. And now, here's a picture of us all. Sort of.

They are somewhere over the Atlantic right now, watching episodes of The Big Bang Theory if I know my dad well.

Which I think I do.

Mama's more likely to be trying to sleep, then giving up and watching a film. How do I know? I just know, mmkay?

NEWSFLASH: The wind just slipped one of the locks on the front door, blew it open, and slammed it. Hard. The house shook. Scary bananas.

Anyway, I'm really excited. Not just because my heart rate is up now. Because I will see my folks for the first time since Christmas, and then they'll meet some of my friends, and there will be good times.

_

Follower Love-Fest #4: Katrin

Katrin is the bilingual babe behind reizende Rundungen. Hell, she might speak more languages because she's that great, but I just don't know. She has a seemingly endless army of cute clothes, especially dresses, but that's not the only reason I love this girl. It also has nothing to do with her glorious hair, or the fact that she got a kiss from Beth Ditto. These thing certainly don't hurt, but it's how her entries always make me smile. She's is funny, and strong, and I want to high five her constantly.

_

Still nineTEEN. Still allowed to have dance parties with Batman.

Second Year: Complete

I took my last exam yesterday morning and I still can't believe it.

At this very moment, I am half-way through my degree.

And next week I will be twenty.

Ew. This makes me feel that I ought to be doing all sorts of adult-type things. Ew

I've been sending out a dizzying number of e-mails, begging for work, but responses have been less than promising.

I sent my latest 'assignment' for Fringe a few days ago, so I'll let you all know how that goes.

So, until I get any responses from potential employers which don't begin with 'Thank you for you interest, but...' I've been effectively wasting time on Polyvore.

Haven't heard that word in a while.

Imagining outfits for romanticized versions of your possible-future-jobs is the first step toward actually getting said job, right?

Soap-Slinger by Liz OT featuring Naturalizer shoes

Items in this set:
- New Age & Spiritual Gifts at Pyramid Collection, $120
Naturalizer Boyer, $59
Jade Crystal Dots Resin Bangle, 40 EUR
Deena & Ozzy Tiny Straw Hat, $28
Coppertone - WaterBabies Sunscreen Lotion SPF50 236ml, $18

There is a chance that I might be working for a small company in my town which makes its own soaps and candles. While I understand that it is unlikely that my job would consist of delivering delightful bundles of scented glory in the manner of Kiki's Delivery Service, a girl can dream. Even in my daydreams I am aware of the danger the sun's rays pose to my pasty self. Ouch.

Country Clubbin' by Liz OT featuring Arden B tops

Items in this set:
Tie Waist Ruffle Front Blouse - Women's Clothing and Apparel - Chic..., $49
Balenciaga Button front skirt, 335 GBP
Kat Maconie Blaize Nude Patent Pumps, 95 GBP
Alex Monroe Gold Hummingbird Necklace, 110 GBP
Loop Knot Headband, $16

More promising is the prospect of working at one of the local country clubs. I have no idea which positions, if any, are available (Towel Girl, Cabana Chick, Caddy), but I do know that my usual taste for mad prints and sundress would not go over well. If those shoes are in my possession, that's fine.

Happy Camper by Liz OT featuring Old Navy dresses

Items in this set:
Old Navy Womens Ruffled Jersey Cabana Dresses, $15
Knitted Pointelle Cardigan, $75
Duck Face Toe Ankle Socks, $6
CHUCK TAYLOR ALL STARS, 54 GBP
MARC BY MARC JACOBS Round Enamel Case Watch, $175

I've heard nothing back from the educational camps at the community college, but this situation would be ideal. I can't think of a better way to spend eight hours than hanging out with and teaching creative kids. Plus, I love making macaroni fish.

Pagemaster by Liz OT featuring Fly LONDON shoes

Items in this set:
Watermelon Delight Dress, $88
Joy :: Womenswear :: Knitwear :: Louche Essentials Boyfriend Cardigan, 29 GBP
Amazon.com: FLY London Women's Ikon T-Strap Pump: Shoes, $315
Token bags - Sheridan Bag-Large Dark Brown, $240
sniffty scented pen set, $12

Pretty sure working in the town library doesn't pay, but I just don't care. Unlimited access to books (though I hear you're not allowed to read them when you're on duty) and an excuse to expand my cardigan collection are reasons enough.

Free Bird by Liz OT featuring Steve Madden shoes

Items in this set:
Chrysalis Dress, $60
Steve Madden - Women's Flats, $80
Noah Love Birds Clutch- eBags.com, $110
SMALL VINTAGE RESIN PANSY POST EARRINGS, $32
American Eagle AE Women's Skinny Multi Braid Belt Brown, $20

Could be doing some freelance work for an artists and artisans group. In this fantasy, I am trusted with sexy cameras and a press pass so that I can get in and get the story, or whatever it is that the job entails.

Babysitter by Liz OT featuring Converse shoes

Items in this set:
Old Navy Boys DC Comics Superhero Hoodies, $15
Basic Mid Scoop Tee, $2.50
Bullhead Shorts - Womens - Vintage Cut Off Short, $37
Converse All Star Slim Leather Athletic Shoe, Black, at Journeys Shoes, $65
Crayola Color Bath Dropz - 3 Pack - Crayola - Babies "R" Us, $11

The ol' standby. Last summer the recession had people tightening their belts so much that they wouldn't even hire teenagers to watch their youngsters for a night of freedom. Here's hoping that will change this year if nothing else pops up. I'm good with kids. LET ME WATCH THEM. I can cook, clean, change diapers, teach arithmetic, give anti-drug lectures, build a better mousetrap--whatever you need, Parents of America.

A Likely Story by Liz OT featuring Deena & Ozzy sandals

Items in this set:
Miso Floral Eyelet Dress, 23 GBP
Deena & Ozzy Crisscross Slingback Sandal, $38
Large Linen Suitacase, 120 GBP
Librarian-Inspired Spring Fashion
Monkey Yellow Hooded Towel, $36

What will probably happen is that, as ever, I won't find work. Three and a half months will be spent swimming at the beach, reading, getting caught up on a year's worth of TV, and reorganizing my house room-by-room. This pleasant, though financially depressing, life of languor will be interspersed with trips to visit friends working in Boston, Washington, and Philadephia. I'll be selling my worldly possessions on the internet to generate gas money. Yee-haw!

~

Follower Love-Fest #4: Geri

After a short break--during which she was missed immensely--this lovely lady is back to blogging at Lovely as a Car.ous.ill. Whether it's hilarious YouTube videos, new music, or photos from her daily goings-ons, no entry comes without a smile for the reader. She is also a girl who understands the magic and importance of sparkly nail polish. That counts as a virtue way more than Patience does. If you're in the mood to salivate madly, then her food blog, edu.plate, is for you. :D

'You're not such a bad volcano, Eyjafjallajokull.'

I am halfway done with exams now and it feels pretty damn good. I'm still in a Panic Mode of sorts, but nothing that can't be managed with tea.

And this guy.

I think that Josh Ritter is one of the greatest musical artists of whatever you would call the time period we're living in now. This is not going to devolve into a creepy love letter about how he is the voice of our age or any of that other mawkish bullshit. But I really adore his music and he just seems like a lovely person. Not a god. Not a prophet. A talented artist and a decent human being (a Good Man, you might say--har har) and his music has made my world a more enjoyable place to live. Be prepared for a lot of links and embedded songs.

My only beef with him has been that he has always had the inability to be in the same place as me when he is performing. As in, less than a week after I flew back to Dublin he played twenty minutes from my home in New Jersey. Similar instances have occurred--on both sides of that infernal ocean--for the better part of five years. This past Tuesday, all that changed.

Did I care that the venue wasn't built when I bought the tickets? Nope.

Did I care that the concert was the sandwiched between two exams, one being at 9:30 the next morning? No way.

Did I care that the tickets were well out of my price range and I knew that I would probably wind up stuck with extras when my more sensible friends couldn't go because of the exam schedule? Not in the least.

And I regret nothing.

Correction: I regret assuming that I wouldn't be allowed to bring my camera in, leaving it, and then spending the concert hating every flashbulb that went off.

Back to the concert. It was amazing. I am using short-ish sentences and words to contain my overflowing joy at the memory of it.

First off, we were a couple of minutes late getting in for the opening act, which we all felt awful about because he great. It could be argued that I'm just a sucker for 'that kind of music', and I wouldn't fight back. It's true. Anyway, his name is Joe Pug and he is tops.

Mr. Ritter and the band were fantastic. It is not a matter of debate or opinion. Every member played wonderfully and they all seemed to be having such a great time that you couldn't help but smile through the whole performance. I am actually typing this with a huge smile on my face and I probably sound like a gushing idiot. Don't care.

The most energetic and giddy-energy-inducing number was definitely this baybeh.

So much of his music is melodic and close that the livelier songs like this are startling in the most pleasant of ways.

He also played one of my favourite songs, Harrisburg, which definitely needs to be experienced live. Wow. That's a douchey thing to say. What I mean is that it's one of those songs which is wonderfully strong, but has a flexibility in it for the best kind of ad libbing, if you can say that with music.

Kind of selfish on our part, but it makes the audience feel special.

A fair portion of the night was songs off of his new album, and that is not a complaint. So Runs the World Away is nothing short of an achievement and I'd be lying if I said it has not been racking up a significant play count on my iTunes. Overused as the phrase is, I'm in no headspace to think of a better one to describe The Curse than 'hauntingly beautiful'. It is that. Simply.

The amazing thing about the performance, especially this song, is that it was scarcely a performance at all. A talented songwriter and singer though he is, Ritter is not much of a showman. The audience is undoubtedly entertained and, more than that, enthralled while he and the band are playing, but he doesn't have the gaudy, pleading insistence of a showman, which I really appreciate. When he sang this song, though, he grew kind of stiff and curled into himself, his movements laboured and slow, like those of a mummy in a silent film. Not frightening or comical, but just right.

The rendition of In the Dark was done in silence. The band left the stage, all of the instruments were turned off, he stepped away from the microphones, and just filled the theatre with his voice.

Okay. I think I should cut myself off here. You get the picture. I had a fanfuckingtastic time and hope that it won't be too long before I can see him again.

Website: JoshRitter.com

Blog: Book of Jubilations

New CD: So Runs the World Away (Not out until the fourth in America.)

Oh, and he did dedicate a song to everyone's favourite plane-stopping volcano.

~

Follower Love Fest #3: Lillian Boren

What can I say about Lillian? More importantly, what can't I say? She knits the the best fake stoles this side of the International Date Line. She is a really talented gal. Not just a master in the art of wielding big fucking needles, she has fabulous hair, a contagious smile, and enough cardigans to start a family/kill a horse/sell water to a drowning man. And the wit on her. I've gotten many a dirty look in the library while trying to hold in teh lulz that she provokes in her entries at L is for Lillian. You should head there while supplies last!

There will be no capering nimbly.

I am now blogging for Fringe, sort of. I put that 'sort of' there because is one of the coolest things to happen to me in recent memory and I'm really nervous about jinxing it. Anyway, my first write up is here and it makes me smile

My first exam is in five hours.

No, I am not panicking.

Yes, that was a lie.

I've gotten to the point where I hoard any books that seem relevant to my needs and use them to make a fort around me. When I get around to figuring our which ones are actually worth anything to me I have to bring the rest back, shuffling around like Richard III.

Yes, that's what I'm studying.

I could use this as practice for getting all of my (uninformed and unoriginal) ideas out there, but I'll save my word-vomit for this afternoon.

Instead, let us take this time to appreciate how sexy Ian McKellen is as Richard. We are ignoring the fact that McKellen doesn't like girls, is much older, and that Richard is a creeper of the highest calibre.

Oh, and RDJ has a slight role in this film version, for those who don't appreciate McKellen's obvious appeal.

You should be converted now.

Follower Love-Fest #2 : V. SIRIN

I'll be honest, I don't know a whole lot about the saint vitus blogger, but what I do know is enough. She makes delicious-looking (and, I'm sure, -tasting) pies and is shares my talent for chronically destroying the elbows of sweaters. She is also a brilliant artist who creates images combining gorgeous lines and startling attention to detail.

Now, back to panicking.

Annnnnd we're back. For real this time.

Mortimer lives, and let us rejoice!

He might have a screwy CD drive now, but that will be sorted out by the start of next week. IhopeIhopeIhope.

Life is pretty good. I mean, I'm in a state of panic about exams, but nothing that some awesome video messages from home and a lovely friend's insistence on making me dinner can't cure.

Do you know what's crazy? The fact that I have twenty-five followers. That means that I now how as many followers as I do entries. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it certainly has me excited. In honour of that, my new plan is to end every entry with a little blurb on why one of my followers is awesome. This will be an imperfect plan, as it seems that some of my followers are just pixellated silhouettes. It doesn't mean that I love them any less, but it does mean that I can't see their profiles. So, in advance, let me just say that I really, really, really, really love Erin, Stephy, Cassie, and Laura. They're super-foxy.

But this entry ain't over yet.

First, the big news. Well, big to me.

I'm going to be writing for Fringe Magazine's blog. I just e-mailed them my first 'assignment' and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't stupidly giddy.

If you're not familiar with Fringe, click it and educate yourself.

And please read that last sentence in Pleakley's voice.

It's just a really great collection of art and writing that wouldn't otherwise make it to the general public. And all the cool kids are reading it while they wear their Sketchers and write notes with Milky Pens. Those things are still hip, right?

And now,

Follower Love-Fest #1: TRICIA

Tricia is the babe behind Stop the world, I wanna get on!. When she's not being a professional sexpot, Tricia is bringing the world of fantastical world of polar bear cork boards, beautiful nail polishes, and the bleu cheese crisis in Lithuania. One of those might not be entirely true. What I'm trying to say is that Tricia is the bee's knees.

___

Just got a text that it's dinner time, so I'm out like Scout.

Zombie Jesus Day!

I failed to go to church, make brunch, or dye eggs this year.

Between the assumed --unless I'm told that he can make a recovery on Tuesday--death of Mortimer, college, and a rather startling arrangement of personal problems, I just couldn't find the time to get into the manic groove that all commercially-endorsed holidays bring out in me.

My housemates have been beyond beyond the past couple of days.

Sure, we're living in a rather disgusting structure, comprised of dirty dishes, newspapers, breadcrumbs, and ants, all posing as a house, but it's kind of nice.

Until the other day, I hadn't seen most of my loves in a week. Some I still haven't seen.

We gots the looooove, though.

When I came home a sleep-deprived mess (six hours' sleep, spread over four days is apparently not enough for a functioning human being), two of my housemates were sitting, watching Glee and eating homemade lemon muffins.

They listened to me rant, then we hugged, ate the deliciousness, and I finally succumbed to Glee's awesome power.

I repeat, 'awesome'.

Right now, I'm waiting for the call from home when the phone will be passed around to every available relative and we will scream love at each other.

Also contemplating whether or not it's worth it to finish an essay which I will probably be failed for anyway.

Either way, I am running off to the shop to see if there is any chocolate left for me to sneakily hide in my housemate's pillows.

Final note: I hope you're all full of love and chocolate/roast/Peeps/whatever you gave up for Lent, if you did. But mostly love. For tradition's sake, I give you

'I'm in the depths of despair.'

A little dramatic, but thank you, Anne.
Sorry that I haven't been updating or reading much lately, but essays are due on Thursday and then it's exam time.
And there's the small matter of my scientific discovery that that laptops don't very much care for carrot juice.
Mortimer the Mac has very likely gone to that IT desk in the sky.
So, I'm sort of screwed.
Fingers crossed that I get these essays done without having to sell my soul...Again.

Hope you're all keeping well!

BRB, reading Tennyson in the woods to avoid my life.