Mini cinnamon rolls do not require dark magic. Probably.

This morning was one of those mornings where I sat in bed looking at recipes online and making all kinds of plans about how I'm going to become the most awesome cook ever. EVER. Like starting immediately right now. Smoked paprika! Get me smoked paprika and onion powder!! *shrieks like Banshee*

My problem is that I can't really cook more than one thing at a time. Main course... no problem. Side dishes... what? How am I supposed to cook a thing while I'm already cooking another thing? That's two things! I only have one brain! What am I, some sort of wizard??

Also, I'm not very imaginative about side dishes. I know how to cook green beans and asparagus. Usually with ungodly amounts of cheese. So.much.cheese. Seriously, I will smother the shit out of my vegetables with cheese. I don't care if it cancels out the veggie nutrients. If you've never had roasted asparagus dripping with asiago cheese, you need to get some of that all up in your life. NOW.

So instead of a complicated meal that would involve cooking multiple things and, let's face it, probably some ritual chanting, I found this recipe for mini cinnamon rolls with maple icing. It didn't look like I would have to perform any kitchen voodoo to make it happen, so I gave it a whirl, and oh my god. 

You guys. YOU GUYS. LOOK:  

I repeat. LOOK AT THESE:

Omg puppies and kittens and baby unicorns with wings:

Obviously I instagrammed the crap out of these suckers, because that's what you do when you make something awesome and want to show it off to people and also make it look like you're a hipstery art person who knows about things like lens flare and stuff.

And then I ate seven of them. #noregrets

LeTwitter

I be on it.  So's the blarg.  Come and find us at @MollyKernan.  It's like Facebook, only exactly the same.  

That being said, here's something that I can't cram into 140 characters:

My birthday is coming up.  And by coming up, I mean THIS SUNDAY.  I will be 27.  I realized the severity of this the other day when I caught myself legitimately contemplating purchasing a Knit Your Own Cat instruction book.  For real.  

Holy old maid, Batman.  Why not just hang a flashing neon sign over my head that says "I give up"?  Knitting one's own cats is the first step in a downward trajectory that ultimately leads to some serious airtime on Hoarders.  I'm sure of it.    

LeTweet, y'all.

Things I Like: Tights

I like tights.  Like, a lot.  I probably wear them two or three times a week.  But when I was a kid I absolutely hated tights.  Probably because my mother made me wear them, and as a child (and also sometimes now) I tended to form an instant dislike to anything that my mother thought was a good idea, just on principle.  The other reason that I hated tights was because, due to my extreme youth and subsequent inability to adjust my own clothes, I inevitably spent a large portion of any Tights Wearing Day with the crotch of the tights sitting a solid two inches below my actual crotch.  For those who have never experienced this, let me just tell you that is the MOST DISTRACTING THING EVER.  You can feel where the crotch of the tights should be, and at the same time where it actually is, and it is literally a terrible, terrible feeling.  Your entire universe is focused on this one awful point, and it is impossible to concentrate on cutting paper or eating your snack or paying attention to the story during circle time because the disparity between your two crotches demands your full and immediate attention.  And since I lacked the wherewithal to pull up my own tights, or the rebellious, devil-may-care disregard for the rules to just go ahead and peel them off right there in front of God and my preschool teacher, I just had to suffer until it was time to go home.   


Now that I'm much more handy in the clothing department, tights are like my new favorite thing.  I can get away without shaving my legs for days at a time.  It's a whole new world.  Tights are warm, opaque, slimming, and who doesn't want purple legs once in a while?  That's why I like tights.  

My problem is that I want to know everything

Okay so sometimes I get really anxious that I won't have time to learn about everything I want to know. Yesterday I went to Barnes and Noble, and I got really overwhelmed because I wanted to read every book in the store but I didn't know where to start.  Antique furniture?  The history of Ireland?  Do-it-yourself electrics?  Gah!!  I walked out with the Hunger Games trilogy and a notebook in which to collect facts.  I think that if I write down everything I learn, then I'll be able to see what's missing and therefore figure out what it is that I don't know, and then I can study that.  The only problem is that I might be dead before I figure it out.  Did you know that the surface area of the small intestine is the size of a tennis court?  Sheesh.  Also, I'll bet you don't know why a papal bull is called a papal bull.  (I even had to look up what the heck a papal bull was in the first place; it's basically a document from the Pope or his office.  Decrees, letters patent, charters, etc.)  But allow me to drop some knowledge on you as to why it's called a bull—it's named for the device that they use to seal the document: a bulla.  It's a little metal disc thingy that they stamp with symbols of the current Pope and the church, and they attach it to the document with a silk or hemp cord.  Silk cord for good decrees like sanctifications, and hemp cord for bad ones like excommunications.  BAM.  

"Who was vice president under John Quincy Adams?  Daniel D. Tompkins, and I'll bet your Mr. Sawyer doesn't know that."

Updates: short hair, ray-guns, and a very steampunk Christmas

Hi!  I think it's time for some updates.  And pictures.  Okay, SO...  first of all, I have a kick-ass haircut.  It looks like this:

I tend to let my hair grow until I can't stand it anymore and then go to the mall in White Plains to get it chopped off for super cheap at their walk-in hair place.  But not this time.  I've decided that I need to be a grown up, which means getting a haircut that makes me look like one.  I went to a real salon, spent real money, AND I've already booked my next appointment for six weeks from now.  No more driving ninety miles to get a cheap haircut in a ghetto mall by someone who doesn't speak english and gives me bangs when I ask for layers.  I can't believe I used to do that on a regular basis just because ONE TIME when I was in college I got a cut that I liked there.  Talk about not being able to let go.  Sheesh.  


For Halloween this year, I was an airship pirate captain.  If I could wear this outfit all the time, I totally would.  Note the long hair; this is pre-haircut.  Also please note the awesome goggles:

And here's an old-timey western saloon version:

Oh my god I look SO COOL!!  Don't mess with me and my badass ray-gun.  I will commandeer your zeppelin and use it for my weapons-smuggling enterprise.  And that's a legit, steel-boned corset, by the way.  I almost passed out at the office Halloween party because I had it laced too tight.  I wish I had a close-up pic of the goggles so you could see how amazing and detailed they are.  I would just take one right now, but I keep the goggles at my desk at work.  They help me concentrate when I'm bored.  


This year for Christmas, I got the best presents.  I seriously have the coolest parents ever.  I told my mom that I wanted this crazy lightbulb terrarium that I saw online, and she didn't even bat an eyelash.  She was just like "Ok, sweetie.  If that's what you want."  And then on Christmas morning, it was there!  Like magic!  Here it is:

It looks like you could run a train engine off of that thing.  Amazing!  And the best part is that it only has preserved moss inside, so there's nothing I can kill.  (Last year for Christmas I got a pair of frogs.  A moment of silence for Pork and Beans, if you please.)  The other thing I really wanted was the golden compass from Philip Pullmans "His Dark Materials" trilogy.  It's even more awesome in person than it looked in the movie, if that's possible:

  
I think I might have had the world's nerdiest Christmas, but I'm okay with that.  So anyway, that's what I've been up to.  I've got laundry in the dryer that needs my attention (I hate laundry.  Hate it hate it hate it.) so I guess I should go take care of that.  Catch you on the flip side, homies.  

I'm Cheating on my Blog With my Other Blog

Okay so in my last post I mentioned a super-cool new blog idea... here it is!  Ready?  A (hopefully) daily (ish) list of three good things that happen that day, in order to keep myself in a positive state of mind.  It sounds totally self-helpy, I know, but it's really fun and I want everyone to do it with me!  Don't worry about Nerd Thoughts, it's not going anywhere, but you should definitely check out my new blog at www.goodthingshappenhere.blogspot.com, and let me know your three good things by posting a comment.  I'm very faithful about replying.  Follow if it tickles your fancy, and pass it on to your family and friends.  It's a great exercise in positive thinking, and well worth the brief amount of time it takes to scan your day for good things.

Summer Update: Best-Laid Plans Go Awry as Super-Cool New Blog Idea Takes Over

Just thought I would drop in and let you know how it’s going.  So far, pretty much everything on my list from the previous post has been replaced with something else.  The best-laid plans… 

I had originally intended to sunbathe every day, watch the whole series of Battlestar Galactica, use my hula-hoop, and pay my library fine.  Instead, I’ve found myself learning to play the ukulele, watching Game of Thrones, rejoining my gym, and working on a completely new and separate blog, to be launched soon!  (Don’t worry, Nerd Thoughts isn’t going anywhere.  I love talking about myself too much to drop it.) 

My next post will introduce the new blog to everyone; I think it’s a pretty slammin’ idea, and I really hope you all will check it out.  In the meantime, here’s what happened to me last night:

So as lots of you know, I’ve been housesitting every weekend in NY state for some friends of mine who are spending the summer in Australia.  They live in this really cool old farmhouse, and they have two indoor/outdoor cats—Lamu and Zeya.  Last night, I was sitting on the couch when Zeya trotted up to me carrying one of her toy mice.  Thinking she wanted me to throw it for her (as she sometimes does) I reached down for it, but she kind of shied away from me and ran under the piano bench.

I heard her batting it around for a while, but it wasn’t until the batting noises were joined by some frantic squeaks that I realized it wasn’t a toy mouse.  IT WAS A REAL MOUSE.  And it was alive.  She walked right up to me with a live mouse in her mouth, and I almost reached out and took it because I thought it was her toy.  And the worst part was that she wouldn’t kill it; she just kept playing with it.  It finally ran under the couch, and I took both cats out of the room and shut the door, and went to bed.  I haven’t seen it yet today, so hopefully it escaped.  If it curled up somewhere and died from it’s injuries, then the atmosphere in the sitting room may become increasingly unpleasant over the next few days.  Especially in this heat. 

Molly's Big Summer of Super Amazing Fun!!

It’s summer, y’all.  And since I can't quit school and take two months off from work to follow the Heathers to Australia, I'm going to have to spend it entertaining myself.  I’ve got big plans. 

1. Spend some time in the sun, preferably daily

The reasoning behind this one is twofold: I have the complexion of an albino vampire, and I probably don’t get enough vitamin D. 

I’ve heard it all when it comes to my skin color; I’m clear, I’m blindingly white, if I ever get lost in the dark I won’t need a flashlight because I’ll have my legs, and so on.  There’s a heap of reasons for my pastiness, the two biggest being (a) the fact that if I spend even ten minutes in the sun, I fry like the Bloomin’ Onion at Outback Steakhouse, and (b) my strong aversion to shorts.  I really hate wearing shorts.  But, hopefully, if I coat myself in SPF 70 and get over the shorts thing, I will be able to build up my skin’s resistance to the sun and get a little color. 

The other reason for my newfound commitment to sunbathing is that it’s good for me.  It has been brought to my attention by my friends and my mom that vitamin D is important.  If I want to get through life without rickets, osteoporosis (I think I’m already genetically doomed there), depression, hyperparathyroidism (whatever that is) or fatigue (too late), I should probably get some ASAP.  Also, it just feels good to know that while I’m lounging in the sun, listening to This American Life and sipping lemonade, my body is absorbing nutrients all by itself.  It’s like eating healthy food or exercising without having to actually do anything. 

2. Watch the entire series of Battlestar Galactica

I know I’m kind of late to the party here, but just go with it.  We recently got Netflix at my house (Lappy just auto-capped Netflix for me, btw) and I intend to take advantage.  I do realize that this is in direct conflict with my previous goal of spending more time outside; I haven’t quite reconciled this yet.  I’m working on it.  I’ve been feeling bereft since Lost ended last year, and I think I’ve seen every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation enough times to know all the dialogue, so it’s no longer exciting.  I need something new; it's either Battlestar Galactica or Dr. Who, and I think BG is a more realistic goal for the summer.  There are like twelve different iterations of Dr. Who, and approximately 2174839 episodes.  I would never finish it.  

3. Actually use the hula-hoop that is taking up valuable real estate in my bedroom

I have a weighted hula-hoop.  I’m actually quite good.  It is currently gathering dust in my bedroom, but I think it’s time for it to make a reappearance.  Maybe I can hoop-dance while I watch Battlestar Galactica.  I have no idea if it’s actually exercise, but in my head, it is.  And it’s fun, so I can trick myself into doing it. 

4. Pay my library fine

I owe them $98.00, and I’m too ashamed to go pay it.  I haven’t been in the library for over a year now.  This needs to end. 

So that’s the plan.  I’ve already bought some shorts, which I think is a good start.  Grammar class in NYC tomorrow after work, and I plan to get there early enough to sit in Bryant Park and eat a sandwich while watching 100-plus people take the free yoga class that's offered on the lawn every Thursday evening.  Yoga is a great spectator sport.   

I Know My Calculus; It Says You + Me = Us.

Okay, so this isn’t about relationships.  That was just a catchy hook to draw you in.  (Molly has a boyfriend?  What??  Holy Christmas tree, IS THAT A PIG FLYING OVER MY HOUSE??)  It also isn’t about calculus.  But it is about school.  I’ve gone back!  This one is for realsies; it’s not like that time that I faked you out by saying that I was going to grad school to get a Library Science degree.  It is just as nerdy, though.  It may even be slightly nerdier (more nerdy?).  I’m getting an Editing Certificate from NYU.  This is so that I can become a copyeditor, and thereby combine the two things that I love most into one career: reading books, and pointing out people’s mistakes. 

The commute into the city twice a week is a drag, but the work involves all kinds of super fun things like dangling modifiers, the correct usage of personal pronouns, and classes like Grammar Intensive: Mastering Style and Sentence Structure (which makes the nerd receptors in my brain go all tingly in a pleasantly dorky fashion). 

Unfortunately, I’m still super lame when it comes to conclusions in my writing, so I’m going to leave you with the extra credit question from my grammar homework this week.  It is deceptively tricky.  I dare you to answer it- I did.  Here it is:

Think of a word that can be a noun, an adjective, AND the present progressive tense of a verb.  For each of the three parts of speech, write a sentence in which the word functions in that role.

Booyah.  

Push-up Challenge Video Blog!

Video blogging will be the decline of western civilization.  It's inevitable.  I'm just doing my part to help speed things along.  You're welcome, conquering alien race.

Google Won't Stop Creeping on my Browsing History

I’ve hit a new low.  I used to think that I couldn’t get any more pathetic than my current status.  I'm a 25 year-old college graduate living at home with my parents, still taking a cheese sandwich to work every day for lunch and spending every night reading and playing computer games in my bedroom.  I figured that was unquestionably as low as I could go, and that up was the only direction I could possibly go from there.    

But then Google started spying on me.

After taking an unsolicited and, frankly, creepy look through a history of my most frequent Googles, It started tailoring the advertisements It was showing me to include certain things that It thought I would enjoy.  

It took me a while to notice at first: a helpful banner advertising an antique book dealer, the occasional pop-up for clothing stores from which I‘ve ordered in the past, an artfully placed ad asking if I have any unwanted belly-fat that I need to get rid of (how does It know??  How???), that sort of thing.  

And then.  It came at night, while I was blithely perusing the Foxtrot cartoon website.  A large, lime-green banner with flashing blue lettering spelling out the URL for the website Geek2Geek.com.  

Oh yes.  An online dating site.  For geeks.   

Holy crap, you guys.  Seriously??  I mean, I have nothing against geeks.  Lots of my friends are geeks.  I'm rather geeky myself, although I think I would classify myself as more of a nerd, because while a geek is actually super smart in a concentrated area, I just spend a lot of time watching Star Trek: The Next Generation and reading fantasy novels.  And blogging.  And laughing at physics-related cartoons even though half the time I don't really know what I'm laughing at.  It just makes me feel smart to read them.  

So, nothing against geeks, but I'm slightly miffed that Google thinks I am so unsalvageable that I can't even procure a lousy first date with a mainstream person.  Granted, I like to listen to the Star Wars soundtrack on my ipod and re-enact the movie in my mind when I'm bored at work ("Get clear, Wedge, you can't do any more good back there!"), and I may or may not have dressed up as the Queen of the Renaissance Fair for the last two Halloweens in a row.  Okay I'm not making a very good case for myself, here.   

But apparently Google sniffed out my “single” status on Facebook, and that in combination with the amount of time I spend on websites like xkcd and the aforementioned Foxtrot was enough to set off some cyber alarm bell and alert the internet to the fact that I am a helpless, single geek who is unable to find romance with anyone other than my own kind.  

Which is kind of true.  

Not that I’m looking or anything.

The Noxious Green Color of my Shamrock Shake Should be a Clue That I'm Probably Ingesting Hazardous Waste, but it Tastes So Magical That I Don't Care

Oh my god, you guys.  Just… oh my god.  I’ve just returned from a trip to McDonald’s with my brother, where I was introduced to what must surely be the Nectar of the Gods.  Available only for a six-week span from February into March, the frighteningly green colored and deliciously vanilla-mint flavored Shamrock Shake has just edged Starbucks’ Caramel Apple Spice out of it’s number one spot on my Beverages That Are So Full Of Sugar And Calories That Drinking Them Even Once A Month Is Too Often But They Taste So Good That I Don’t Care list. 

It tastes so good that I don’t even care about the fact that the jaded teenager at the drive-through window probably thought that I was my brother’s girlfriend.  (I can’t go anywhere with either of my brothers without someone thinking that we are an item.  A few Christmases ago, an elderly couple at church thought that Kirby and I were married, and then asked if one of the girls in the kiddie choir was our daughter.)

I’m still drinking the shake!  Right now!  Seriously, you have to try this.  I am not over-selling it, I promise.  My family thought that I was doing that with the avocado club egg rolls at California Pizza Kitchen, but then we went there, they tried them, and now guess where Macky wants to go for his 18th birthday dinner tomorrow night?  BAM.  If I tell you something is good, it’s good.  So trust me.  You won’t be disappointed.

P.S.  MahJong Quest III has hit a bit of a snag; I’m almost to the end, but I can’t get past this one puzzle and I refuse to skip it in exchange for half of my total score.  So that’s where I’m at right now.  I could tell that you were wondering. 

Mahjong Quest III is my Lego Universe

I haven’t posted all month.  I know.  Let me take a moment to allay your fears, in the extremely unlikely happening that you have noticed my absence and have been worried about me.  

I Have Not:
~Been eaten by bears
~Received my Hogwarts letter (yet)
~Died from boredom, sleep deprivation, becoming-an-adult-related stress (although that is becoming more likely by the minute), too much driving, or a superfluity of hummus
~Figured out my visa thing and skipped off to London for a couple of months (believe me, if that actually happens I will be blogging my face off from jolly old England daily - perhaps hourly - with pictures and videos included
~Been buried under my laundry*

No, I have succumbed to none of those things.  Instead, I have discovered something that is so wonderful yet at the same time so destructive that I am in a constant state of conflict whenever I think about it.  

I Have:
  ~Discovered an incredible puzzle game on my lappy called MahJong Quest III that is so fun, so enticing, and so addictive that whenever I turn on my computer with an eye to writing a blog post, I get distracted and, well, there goes the next three hours of my life.  It has become my Lego Universe.  I say that because one of my dearest friends has two sweet, smart, funny little boys who are completely obsessed with the computer game Lego Universe, and it is currently their favorite thing to do ever.  This is like that.  

Oh my god, you guys.  You have to play this game.  First of all, there are like a million levels.  And every time you complete a portion of a level you get this shiny button to put in the medallion for that level, and every level has a different medallion.  That right there is enough to get me hooked.  Anything that requires me to collect small pieces of something in order to track my progress is about as good as it gets.  

So the story is about this guy named Kwazi, and you have to follow him throughout his entire life and solve these MahJong puzzles in order to determine the course of events and there are a billion different puzzles and it’s amazing.  It’s like a Choose Your Own Adventure puzzle game!!!  Right now he has just broken up with his girlfriend and it’s led him to this mystical gate that opens when you say the magic words, so I have to go now and  figure out what’s up and let him inside.  I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m still alive- just in a very deep computer game phase.  Lame, I know, but I’m loving it so don’t judge me.  I do what I want.  

*The most likely probability  

Skinny Jeans are for Skinny People.

I think that a large percentage of the population may have missed this particular memo.  I mean, I guess I had just assumed that everyone would be able to grasp this concept.  Clearly, I have been suffering from an acute case of naiveté.  Apparently, lots of people really need to have this explained very slowly to them.  So from a Not So Skinny person, here’s one for all you mall teenagers, over-forty New Jersey moms, and under-forty New Jersey single women out there who are shaped just like me: Skinny Jeans are for Skinny People. 

There.  Was that clear enough?  Maybe I should go slower… 

S k i n n y  j e a n s  a r e  f o r  s k i n n y  p e o p l e.  Better?  I hope so.  Now, before I elaborate further, let me just say that the fact that you are not a skinny person does not mean that you should dress yourself in a feedsack, or your mom’s old maternity clothes, and hide in a corner for the rest of your life.  That’s not what I’m saying at all.  I, at five feet, six inches tall and a rather round 152 pounds myself, am the last person to be chastising someone about their weight.  All I’m saying is that we of the Not So Skinny demographic need to be aware of our bodies. 

So.  Now that the whole kumbaya-hand-holding-self-affirming-everyone-should-feel-good-about-themselves nonsense is out of the way, let me say that feeling confident and dressing your body to look great is possible at any size.  (Oh my god I sound like O Magazine.  Maybe they want to hire me to write for them!  LaToya, I know you have an in there.  Can you please have their people call my people?  Thanks.)  There are plenty of styles out there that work well for us of the Not So Skinny demographic.  But I hate to break it to you - and I’m going to try and let you down gently here - skinny jeans are not one of them.  And they never will be. 

Just because the latest fall fashion comes tripping down the catwalk on a size-zero supermodel and sweeps the nation like Snowpocalypse 2010 does not mean that it’s for everyone.  There’s a reason those models are so skinny.  I remember when Gap brought back the skinny black pant, and their tv ads all featured an Audrey Hepburn look-alike who cavorted around in her skinny black pants in an Audrey Hepburn-like fashion and looked adorable.  The pants looked great!  And they will look great on you, too.  If you look like Audrey Hepburn.  You may have noticed that the ads did not feature a Rosie O’Donnell look-alike. 

Oh, and just on a side-note, here’s something else that everyone should probably know.  If, when you put your jeans on in the morning, you have to do that weird, jumpy-dance and then lay upside-down on the bed to button them, they do not fit you.  They are too small.  Believe me, I’ve been there. 

So, to sum it all up, Keira Knightly may wear skinny jeans.  Hillary Clinton may not.  (No offense, Madame Secretary.)  Oprah circa 1988- yes.  Oprah circa 2010- no.  Blake Lively (I have no idea who that is but I hear her name all the time so she must be young and skinny)- go for it.  That girl who played what’s-her-name in Hairspray- sorry.  Kristen Stewart- please do.  Martha Stewart- please do not.  That's all.  

There, was that so hard? 

Hyperlinks *UPDATED*

Holy crap I did it!  I made a hyperlink!  Oh, this is going to be fun.  New toy... stay tuned for further link-tastic posts.

Hyperlink?


Creating Hyperlinks

Hold Still, Wallet. This Might Sting a Bit.

This is a first, you guys.  There are still eleven days left until Christmas and 66.6% of my shopping is completed!  (Please note that that sentence included a percentage.  That is actual math that I did all by myself.  Without a calculator.  You may praise me.) 

I decided that this year, instead of scrambling for ideas at the last possible second of Christmas Eve eve (the eve before Christmas Eve, duh) and then sheepishly handing over the last minute gift only partially concealed in the plastic in which it was bagged at the register, I was going to be on top of things and really think about each person I’m buying for.  Giving is, after all, the whole spirit of Christmas.  Of course, I have also picked up one or two small items for myself along the way - a fabulous holiday dress with shoes soon to follow, a blackberry, a miniature build-it-yourself replica of Stonehenge - but it was all on sale (except Stonehenge) so it’s okay.  I love Christmas!!!

An Open Letter to UK Prime Minister David Cameron

Dear Mr. Cameron,

Would you be so kind as to tell me how to gain admittance into your Kingdom?  I wouldn’t be pestering you with this personally, however my attempts to uncover this information myself using the website provided by your government have thus far yielded poor results.  

Currently, there appear to be only a few options available to me for obtaining a work visa.  You seem to think that I am either A) a non-English speaking unskilled laborer whose dearest ambition is to settle in your country for all time and eternity and while away my hours pruning your hedges, minding your children or cleaning your chimneys, B) a wealthy, suave, ridiculously over-qualified and superb English-speaking business mogul/investor, or C) a soccer star.  I mean football star.  Right.  What I call soccer, you call football.  (I’m doing my best to fit in.  See?  I would be a valuable member of your society.)  

I am not any of those things.  I have no interest in permanent residence, nor do I want to steal a good job from one of your own hard-working Britons.  I merely want to come in and poke around for a few weeks, and earn a little money while I’m doing it so that I don‘t starve to death in the street.  If you find me a place at a temp agency, maybe answering phones or filing things in the basement, that’s enough for me. 

You have nothing to fear from my presence.  I don’t want to move into Windsor Castle or anything, nor am I at this very moment scheming to infiltrate the uppermost reaches of your society by procuring myself a parliamentary seat, then a higher-level government position, and from there staging a coup by handing out all of the moist and juicy government positions I can get my hands on to a horde of savage and uncivilized Americans who pronounce Ts like Ds and can’t tell the difference between real silver and stainless steel cutlery.  I just want to stay for a couple of months, and then I’ll leave.  I promise.   

Maybe you are unsure about how I will be a good temporary asset to your society.  Do not worry, I have many positive things that I can bring to the UK!  Living in New Jersey for the past 15 years has really given me a leg up in the positive traits department.  For instance: do you need a good crime spotter?  No problem!  I’m from New Jersey.  I can spot organized crime a mile away, probably even without my glasses.  I hear you have a lot of roundabouts in your country; I have to navigate one of those to get to work every morning, so that is something for which I am already all prepared.  (Of course, you will have to be patient as I am not used to driving on the left.  I might go around the wrong way the first couple of times, but I am a fast learner so I am sure that I will get the hang of it in no time.)  I also already know all about Early Morning Tea, so you can cross that off of your list of things to teach me.  

I have other skills as well, such as knowing how to avoid bears while taking out the garbage at night, interpreting pathological diagnoses, speaking rather poor French, crocheting doilies, etc.  I am productive, resourceful, observant, have a working knowledge of the Statute of Limitations for asbestos-related personal injury and wrongful death suits in all 50 U.S. states, and can be quiet and unobtrusive when necessary.  

Please, Mr. Prime Minister, will you use your secret powers and let me into your country?  I really am at a loss as to how to proceed.  I appear to have exhausted all of my options.  The ball is now in your court.  Thank you for your time and anticipated assistance.

Your friend and Hopeful Future Temporary Resident Alien,
Molly Kernan

P.S. If you happen to be looking for someone to edit your Border Agency’s website to remove all superfluous and redundant links and make it less confusing, I would be very interested.  

Day 10: One Confession

My mom brushed and fixed my hair for me every day of my life until I was fourteen years old.  To this day, I cannot put it up in a ponytail myself without hanging upside down on my bed.  Make of that what you will. 

Day 9: Two Smileys to Describe My Life Right Now

This is me at work

This is me even though I just ate a humongous Thanksgiving dinner.