The F-Word

"I'm not a feminist, but..."
If I ever hear a woman utter those words again, I will punch her in the face.

No... really.

Do you have any self-respect?! Guess what, sparky... feminism is defined as the belief in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes. In my humble opinion, if you don't believe that, you should be voted off the island, man or woman.

I have girlfriends who are afraid of the word "feminist," I'm sure because of the negative images the F-word conjures up: hairy-legged, militant lesbians running around with machetes, making ludicrous demands like, oh, I dont know... equality?! But guess what. Not all feminists are hairy-legged lesbians in Birkenstocks, though to be honest, I can completely understand why they may be militant. When I hear women my age say, "But we have equality now. We dont need feminism," I want to go crazy. First of all, the only reason each of those girls isnt barefoot, preggers, and making Chef Boyardee is because of the feminists that came before them. Thats right: those bra-burning, protesting marching crazies got you where you are today- out of the kitchen and into Universities. Secondly, EQUAL? WAKE. UP. LADIES. Women are not even legally recongized as equal, protected citizens under the Constitution. The pay gap is vast, maternity rights suck, and your reproductive rights are under attack daily. Definitly not my definition of equality...

It has nothing to do with man-hating. As Betty Friedman said, "Men are not the enemy, but the fellow victims." Its about women not having the courage to repave the road and rewrite the rules. If our generation is not going to do it, than who will?

So. Ladies and gentlemen. Have some dignity and smirk at feminism no longer. I'm not saying you have to walk around in a "MY BUSH COULD DO BETTER" t-shirt, but be intelligent, informed, and know what the word means.

And for Christs sake, get some balls.

Monkey Business

"Boys are gross and conservatives are crazy."

Its 2:30am and me, Nuggie, and Ann are the last three standing in the library. With over a dozen coffees, six Red Bulls, and a few bags of popcorn to sustain us, we have pondered the meaning of life, why boys pee on toilet seats, and the American feminist movement. We have agreed that Ann Coulter should be burned at the stake, Jesus may or may not be in the Reading Room, and that your brain shuts down after 28 days of no sleep. Yes, really.

We're almost there!!!

5am... AND THEN THERE WERE TWO

Erin Finukie + Erin Nuggie = Umm... something bad

*Cough* "Spores."
"What?"
"I have spores in my lungs."

"What the hell are you doing?"
"I have to powder my nose... theres a boy in here now."

"Maybe I'll read some Jesus."

"Do you think some women blow their noses in their burkas?"

"Bodily functions are very funny."
"Dude. You are gross."

"I HATE that you have my name!"

"Isn't Nugs another name for boobs?"
"No... thats JUGS!"
"Ohhhhhh."

There is something very funny about the library at 5am.

Memories, Like the Corners of my Mind

I picked up some photos today after the library. It reminded me of some of the good times I had before essays took over my life... *insert appropriate whimper here*

The 90th Anniversary of the Easter Rising- YAY bagpipes!!!


...then it was the Easter Extravaganza at Cafe O'Casey


... then Matt "Cappy" Lally came and drank all the Bulmers on the island!


(Okay, maybe I helped a little....)




*SIGH* I miss fun.

1:30am Library Time

One word...

1. Yourself: Caffeinated
2. Your Lover: Gorgeous
3. Your Hair: curly
4. Your Mother: strong
5. Your Father: hilarious
6. Your Favorite Item: photos
7. Your Dream Last Night: scary
8. Your Favorite Drink: COFFEE
9. Your Dream Home: pretty
10. The Room You Are In: Library
11. Your Pet(s): Ginger-Rosie-Tiggy-Sam-Kit-Huck-Izzy
12. Who You Are Now: student
13. Who You Want to be in Ten Years: happy
14. What You Want to be in Ten Years: successful
15. What You're Not: patient
16. What you love: laughter
17. One of Your Wish list Items: plane tix
18. Your Gender: Female (however I believe gender is a social construct) :)
19. The Last Thing You Did: popped gum
20. What You Are Wearing: jeans
21. Your Favorite Weather: summer
22. Your Favorite Book: Kennedy books
23. The Last Thing You Ate: banana
24. Your Life: lovely
25. Your Mood: jittery

The Blah Post

Essay boot camp is not fun.

I was in the reading room until 3am last night, and didnt find my way to sleep until about 5am. It was a long and productive day... the kind of day that makes me want to relax with a Bloody Mary, a good meal, and Vogue. Instead it was a venti latte, popcorn, and more trade liberalization. Freaking essays. I'm in slow-mo today; the all nighter may have not been the best idea. But when you're in the groove you've gotta go with it.

I'm so jealous of my friends that go home "to the country" for the week to work on their essays. I would just about kill to be in my house at home working right now. Familiar sounds and smells, good food, pots of coffee. Warmth. I try to recreate warmth in Dublin, but its impossible when you're pulling 12 hour days. When I get back to the flat I can barely stand up long enough to throw some cat food in Oscar's bowl, let alone do the laundry that is piling up in my room, or the dishes that have found a new home in the sink... I want my big soft bed and our nice comfy couch. Hardwood floors and my Mom's food. A peaceful place to work. Instead I'm in the reading room watching the rain outside, listening to a foul-mouthed Dub talk to her boyfriend on the phone. "I dont give a fock what ye do... go and act like dat." Little does she know that mobile is about to find its way up her ass.

Ever since I was little I have loved the city, regardless of the fact that I am the product of a rural upbringing. I love the noise, the excitement, I thrive on the hustle and bustle. After living in a city for the last five years, I have come to appreciate the importance of getting out. Especially in Ireland, where the countryside is like heaven on earth. When Matt was here I was reminded of the fact that there is an ocean about fifteen minutes away from me. I need to explore more... even if its with laptop in hand, I have got to get out of here. The city can be suffocating.

But today... today I am chained to the desk for the remainder of the evening, left only to day dream about getting out of Dublin. Tomorrow, however, may be an entirely different story.
"The woods are lovely dark and deep/ but I have promises to keep/ and miles to go before I sleep..."

Easter Parade

"In your Easter bonnet, with all your frills upon it, you'll be the grandest lady in the Easter Parade!"

YOWZA! Is it Easter already?!?!

If I were home right now, I would be up and searching for my Easter basket that the Easter Bunny/ Mom and Dad cleverly hid in some ridiculous place. Thats right- I am 22 years old and the Easter Bunny still comes to my house. I know you're jealous. Every year we watch Irving Berlin's "Easter Parade" which is one of my all time favorite movies, my Mom cooks an incredible feast, and the house just smells amazing all day long. Family and friends come over for dinner, Katie always comes over for dessert... it is a wonderful day. What a bummer not to be home.

Instead I woke up this morning at 6am after three hours of sleep in a state of panic over essays, etc... I went for a walk to try to chill out, came back to the flat for a shower, and painted my toes pink in honor of spring's arrival. This afternoon I'm heading out to the GPO for a parade and ceremony on the 90th Anniversary of the Easter Rising. Leave it to the Irish to not miss an opprotunity to tell the British to piss off. Ann and I are hosting our own Easter Dinner tonight and yours truly is doing most of the cooking. It wont even compare to my Mom's food... I'm just strivin for edible. And though I could not find a copy of Easter Parade anywhere in Dublin, I downloaded "Couple of Swells" to be performed at dinner tonight. KIDDING!!! Maybe...

So the sparknotes version of what I've been doing.. moving backwards, I've been attempting to lay off the bread this week to celebrate Passover with Jared. Its a pretty amazing holiday- symbolizing spring, independence, and new beginnings. New beginnings are always good- and something that everyone needs from time to time.

Last week Mr. Matt Lally came to visit which was SO much fun! We toured around Dublin, went to a comedy club, and confirmed that I am by far the best tour guide in this country. We had lots of laughs, saw the sites, drank some Guinness and Bulmers... it was good craic, great to catch up, and truly wonderful to see a face from home.

The week before THAT I went to London to see Ben and celebrate his birthday. Though I only caught a glimpse, London seems like an amazing city and I am anxious to go back. There is so much history there it is insane. Walking through Westminister Abbey and seeing the tombs of Charles Darwin, Jane Austin, Queen Elizabeth, and Cromwell (whose tomb I struggled not to deface) was surreal! Ofcourse the best part of the trip was the first day I saw Ben and we hung out in the hotel room and talked for hours, just like we used to. I realized how much I had missed him, and it broke my heart a little. So we vowed to do a better job of keeping in touch from now on!

So after today, Severe Essay Bootcamp begins. Nuggie and I have mapped out a comprehensive schedule for the next two weeks (yes, I'm a schedule loving nerd- shuudup about it) involving the gym at 8am every day and writing until absurb hours in the evening. I think there is a good chance my brain may explode May 2nd when I hand in all this work. Yikes... its going to be a long two weeks.

But today, today is for parades, bunnies, and candy. Work will have to wait!

Updates Later!

No time for updates... just got back from London, Lally is visiting, and all the while I have two more 20 page papers to write before May. Le sigh.

So I will update this bad boy at another juncture.

Glamour Shots

The new, shorter hair cut... oy.

Unfettered Optimism

I woke with a headache this morning due to the copius amounts of sangria consumed last night, and a new attitude to boot. Hello, other side of the rainbow. I am trying to put all bad thoughts (and bad hair cuts) behind me. When I washed it today and wore it as my normal curly/ wavy mess, it wasnt as bad as yesterday. A little Carrie Bradshaw-esque length. I'm no longer contemplating suicide... just uncomfortable with my uncomfortably shorter look. Sigh. New pictures soon to come.

Anywho, I slept off the nightmare that was yesterday until about noon and made my way to the gym. One killer workout and two hours later, I had a delciously healthy lunch at Cornucopia, and spent the rest of the day in Starbucks. Lots of work done this afternoon. I'm feeling good about this essay. Damn good. Research, outline, and thesis complete. I just have to start writing...

Tonight Nuggie came over for a Girls-Night-In with Ann and I: nothing says Saturday night like pizza and Sex and the City. It was grand. Ann isn't quite the SATC covert yet, but we're only on season two... I will prevail!

So, I continue to look ahead to long days of writing and one day, longer hair. I'm also rolling out to London on Thursday which will be FABULOUS. Ben's birthday London style... it will be amazing.

But for now, I'm going to have me some Mr. Big.

Les Miserables

*WARNING: THIS ENTRY CONTAINS EXPLETIVES. NOT SUITABLE FOR... ANYONE REALLY*



I am miserable.

Just when I was beginning to see my way out of the funk that has consumed my life recently, I get a bad hair cut. Dont believe me? Look at the photo. My head was raped, gang-banged even, by Suzy Scissorhands... apparently "Just a trim, please, no more than two inches" equals "Four and a half inches and some Farrah Fawcett fringe" in this country. What is it, fucking 1970? I am blowing up that piece of shit salon and killing that woman tomorrow.

All anyone can say is "it will feel better when you wash it." Oh really fool? You mean when I wash the wax out of my straightened tresses and go back to my normal curly mane I will feel better? Oh no I wont, Sir. Because curls = shrinkage. I'm going to have a fucking pixie cut after I wash this shit. My heart stopped- literally stopped beating when I was sitting in the chair- but once they take the first big snip there is nothing you can do but sit there and pray. So I sat and prayed to the fashion Gods that they please, please spare me... they didnt. Assholes. Precisely why I believe in reincarnation.

So I lept out of the chair as quickly as I could while Ann looked at me nervously from the waiting area, knowing damn well that I was not a happy camper. She said as enthusiastically as she could, "You look like Keely!" No. Keely has LOOOONG straight hair. Mine is now SHORT. And unevenly layered.

So I left in tears and Ann did what any good friend would do in a crisis like this: took me to a pub and called my girlfriends in for support. Four pitchers of sangria and a few Bloody Marys later and I didnt give two shits about this hair. After all, up-do's are in this season, and my hair will be up. For the next month.

In this awful time, I take comfort in the fact that my hair grows like a weed, and hopefully by the time I go home in May it will be long enough for my normal hairdresser to correct the damage. If not, it will be baseball season...

My Phillies hat is always in style.