J-Ro Goes To Portland…Part 6

Meanwhile, the adventure continues…

The Monday of the trip was dedicated to only one thing: books, glorious books. Today, it was just me, my debit card, and Powell’s – the largest independent chain of bookstores in the world. And wouldn’t you know, it happens to be in Portland. Even better, so was I. My loins girded, I set off with the last of my data allowance on Google Maps to guide the way, and within a few minutes I was standing at the gateway to Nerd Nirvana:

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Click on the pic to head to my Instagram!

Now THIS is the best way to spend a Monday. Losing yourself in a bookstore like this is one of those natural antidepressants that should be used at least once a week for best results. You don’t need money, just wander through one in your locality, or if you’re abroad, keep the eyes peeled. They’re just magical. If you’re looking for a list of the coolest independent bookshops in the world, then click here to find out where these literary wonderlands exist.

Powell’s is just amazing. There’s so much to look at in there, I was briefly paralysed with sensory overload. I know myself, the visit I paid there on that Monday barely did it justice. I actually couldn’t bear to look everywhere, lest I collapse in a puddle of Want. I walked past the Graphic Novel section with my hands over my eyes chanting “NONONONONONONO” as I passed, because I knew my suitcases were already at the required rate, and I hadn’t even included the two bagfuls of books I was carrying at that precise moment to the register. I’m going to have to go back. I know this now.

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Sure who DOESN’T love those two things together? Follow me on Instagram: @_jayrow_

In addition to an absolute wonderland of literary delights, they also have a coffee shop within their hallowed walls, the clever bastards. So in between spending your entire wage packet and rainy day savings on all manner of books, you can sit and be refreshed with the finest of hot tasty beverages – and, this being Portland, there are many organic / artisan / hand-woven / wished-upon-a-star-spun-with-gossamer-warmed-with-the-thighs-of-a-virgin-handmaiden herbal chai mocha-frappo-lattes to choose from. At the very least, while you contemplate where your mortgage payment is coming from while looking at your newly-aquired pile of old and new publications, you won’t be thirsty. I’m not even counting the masses of tourist tack and souvenirs you have to wade through to get to the good stuff, or indeed the Portland-themed products (which I spent a good portion of my holiday money on) that tempt you from the stalls. Exercise caution, ladies and gentlemen. For, as Yeats once said, “Tread softly because you tread on my rent.” Or something like that.

I’ll leave you with a gif that gives me a tingle right in the literature. BOOKS, GLORIOUS BOOKS….TOUCH THEM…TOUCH THEM ALL…

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Ask J-Ro: Cocktails And Consequences

Hey Jen, Absolutely love you but wondering could you help. On a recent night out I really embarrassed a friend due to alcohol so much so he’s done with me and hates me. I’ve completely ruined our friendship which I can’t bare as I’ve had feelings for years (which he acknowledges) Idk what to do, help!

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Ah, the wonder of booze. What it gives in false confidence it takes away in caution and the ability to think ahead. I’ve been there, I feel your pain. It all really depends on what exactly happened, and how close you’ve been with this friend. Each friendship has its own dynamic and nuances, so it’s hard to tell exactly how it will pan out overall. You won’t be able to control or influence his reaction, so all you can do really is take responsibility for how you acted, and resolve never to get to that point with the booze again. Look, we’ve all done (and said) cringey mortifying things while under the influence, so don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure your friend has had a few of those nights himself, and when he cools down he might remember that…

If you haven’t already, I would suggest apologising to him, in person if possible. Keep it short and to the point. Just own what you did, let him know how much you value the friendship, say sorry and then leave it with him. You can do no more than that. Dust yourself off, forgive yourself, and move on. I can’t say whether he’ll come around, but at least you’ll have maintained your own integrity. People fuck up; that’s human nature. It’s how you come back from a mistake that shows what you’re made of. This was just a blip in your life. You’re not the sum of your mistakes, so just chalk it down to experience and reset your alcohol limit for future reference!

I hope your friend comes around and forgives you, but if he doesn’t, don’t force the issue with him. That will only torment you more and dig a deeper hole. Who knows? Time is a great healer, especially when it comes to embarrassing drunken antics! TRUST ME… 🙂

Best of luck, fingers crossed!

<3

How To Make A Hit Pop Song, The Jason Derulo Way

After many minutes of deep intensive research (I listened to the song online) I’ve worked out the way to make my fortune. Jason Derulo knows a thing or two about making wads and wads of dirty sweaty cash-money. So, for anyone who’s looking for that get rich quick solution to solve your financial problems, worry no more. I’ve got it sorted for you. Courtesy of that class act, Jason Derulo, here are the fool-proof steps to get the money AND the girls. So many girls, apparently. Here we go:

Watch the master at work by clicking here.

1. Find a lovely girl you’ve never met before and focus on her looks and body, telling her you know what ‘De girl dem need’.

2. Imply that your lap is the best chair in the world and she should sit on it. If she’s not weak with longing by now, you’re doing it wrong.

3. Tell her that her arse is so awesome, she doesn’t need to use her words to explain anything.

4. Shout out various airport departure destinations intermittently, in case she gets notions to start ruining the mood by, you know, letting her personality get in the way.

5. Only allow her to talk if it’s pure durrty.

6. Be stupid enough to think that lipstick stamps all over your passport won’t raise any questions at Passport Control.

7. Record with Middle Eastern-type exotic music sample and thumping beat, release and fly up the charts.

8. Now forever sleep on a bed of money. It’s uncomfortable, but that’s the life you’ve chosen as an international ladies’ man.

9. Seriously, can’t stress enough how much you have to randomly shout out capital cities, otherwise the poor girl won’t know you’re well-travelled. Roaring “Athlone to Mullingar” just doesn’t have the same effect. Believe me, I’ve tried.

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Jason Derulo: The Hodor of the song-writing world.

Women Trapped In Baths Surrounded By Burning Candles

There’s something very sinister going on within the internet, and I’m here to expose it. It’s time for us to fight back. First, it gives the impression that women who are on the brink of giving birth to a child should be strapped into dungarees and made paint an entire house by themselves (and flippin’ well smile while doing it). NOW it appears that no pretty young lady in any stock photo of a bathroom is safe.

I’m talking, of course, about the fact that women are apparently not allowed sit in baths without being flanked by as many open flames as possible. It’s hardly HER idea – I mean, think of the logistics. You don’t fool me, Internet. SO MANY QUESTIONS…..

1: Are they lit before she gets in?

Why would she do that to herself?? She’ll be trying not to burn her fanny off while getting a naked leg over these open flames and the rim of a bath, stepping barefoot into what is essentially a home-made hot skating rink.

2: How the fuck does she get out afterwards?

I have no answer to this. I find it hard enough, what with being on the petite side. It’s like trying to scale The Wall from Game of Thrones.

3: Does she sit in the bath and try with all her might to blow out a few hundred candles all around her?

Not at all. Sure, she’s only a woman. She’d be all dizzy and faint from all the relaxing pretty smelly things she douses herself in after a hard day trying to drink water without spilling it all over her face or while trying to eat a salad alone without laughing. Also, and this is the most important thing:

4: WHO THE FUCK IS TAKING THE PICTURES AND WHY AREN’T THEY SAVING THESE POOR DAMP GIRLS??

So many victims; unnamed, unsaved, their skin wrinkling like raisins while they sit stewing in their own filth waiting for those bastard candles to burn themselves out. Rumour has it they survive on a diet of suds, face flannels and the slimy skins from those old Musk bath beads lying around the edge of the bath behind the taps from gift baskets that their granny gave them when they got all those points in their Leaving Cert in 1997.

This is a gallery dedicated to all those poor souls, fates unknown, whose suffering is now emblazoned across the realm of the cyber-world for all eternity. Vaya Con Dios, pretty ladies.

She's not far away, she's up close, and she's shrinking.

She’s not far away, she’s up close, and she’s shrinking.

Havin' a mad laugh, so she is. IT'S BEHIND YOU...

Havin’ a mad laugh, so she is. IT’S BEHIND YOU…

That better be a rescue manual.

That better be a rescue manual.

Somebody tell this eejit that she has a fighting chance. DON'T GET IN YOU FOOL...

Somebody tell this eejit that she has a fighting chance. DON’T GET IN YOU FOOL…

Sticking your knee out won't save you love, you're basically potential lady-stew...

Sticking your knee out won’t save you love, you’re basically potential lady-stew…

First known pic of The Bath Arsonist. WHO ARE YOU AND WHO DO YOU WORK FOR??

First known pic of The Bath Arsonist. WHO ARE YOU AND WHO DO YOU WORK FOR??

There was a woman in this bath, but she was boiled into oblivion...God rest her...

There was a woman in this bath, but she was boiled into oblivion…God rest her…

This is not romance, this is a murder-suicide pact. She's not laughing, she's trying to get out...

This is not romance, this is a murder-suicide pact. She’s not laughing, she’s trying to get out…

Her hair is just kindling at this point. Seriously.

Her hair is just kindling at this point. Seriously.

Silly bitch. Alcohol and an open flame? Asking for it, so she is...

Silly bitch. Alcohol and an open flame? Asking for it, so she is…

She's not sleeping. She's catatonic with fright.

She’s not sleeping. She’s catatonic with fright.

"Oh my, what a romantic death trap you have created..."

“Oh my, what a romantic death trap you have created…”

She's fainted with the fear. SOMEBODY, PLEASE SAVE HER...

She’s fainted with the fear. SOMEBODY, PLEASE SAVE HER…

She's awake but hasn't seen the ring of fire around her. Poor pet.

She’s awake but hasn’t seen the ring of fire around her. Poor pet.

Looks like somebody remembered where the fire exit is...

Looks like somebody remembered where the fire exit is…

That poor one guy met a grisly end, lavender-style.

That poor one guy met a grisly end, lavender-style.

See? It's only the good looking young wans that get into these scrapes. Not a candle in sight. Gowl.

See? It’s only the good looking young wans that get into these scrapes. Not a candle in sight. Gowl.

No candles, but I find this image disturbing as fuck. It's like somebody gave the girl from The Grudge a voucher for a Spa break.

No candles, but I find this image disturbing as fuck. It’s like somebody gave the girl from The Grudge a voucher for a Spa break.