Wednesday, March 4, 2015

"The Dress"

Well, the last week or so on t'interwebs certainly has been super, piss-your-knickers exciting, what with all this discussion about "The Dress" and all. What do you make of it?

I found it quite interesting and amusing I have to say. (Before we go any further I must state that I am firmly enrolled with team white and gold. There was this one time when I looked at the picture from a certain angle and I could see sky blue, and another when I almost saw blue and black, but it always went back to white and gold in the end.)

A local radio show host actually phoned up the owner to ask her the colour of the dress - blue and black - and the nation, as a whole, sighed with relief, thinking, there now, that'll be the end of it. But no! Since then there have been numerous scientific, psychological and God-knows-what-else studies into the reasons and the meanings behind the colours we see.

The other night I read an article that dealt with the various types of responses to the hype and what those responses say about you. The diagnoses covered stress levels, self-doubt/self-assurance, hypochondria style panic levels, open-mindedness, as well as one's ability to handle controversy and uncertainty. Nowhere in the article, however, did it address the type of character who sees potential promotion possibilities in the issue of "The Dress", which, incidentally was my response. (What's wrong with me? This is stupid. Of course my response is the right one, other people just aren't as intelligent as me. End of discussion! (Maybe there's a lesion on my brain?))

Diligent and resolute (stubborn) as always, of course I acted on this promotional impulse, the fruits of which can be seen below. All that remains to be said on the matter, in my opinion, relates to the above-mentioned article, and how it also failed to deal with how jealous I am that I'm not the owner of "The Dress", as I'm sure it would net a tasty profit these days.





Saturday, February 28, 2015

Marrakech One-Oh-One

It’s strange to think that one can hop on a plane in Dublin and less than 4 hours later (providing you can meet Ryanair’s numerous and oftentimes mind-boggling guidelines) touch down in a place that is as different from home as chalk is from cheese, as Christmas is from Easter, as Ozzy is from Britney.

Marrakech, Morocco, on the tippy-top hairline of Africa.

Stepping out of arrivals in Marrakech is like stepping into another world, to coin a rather stale phrase. Gone are the square-box pebbled-dashed buildings, replaced by ochre structures with curious peepholes dotted across their faces that made me itch to enact my own version of Assassin’s Creed.

The vegetation of home, although incomparable with most countries, still finds a worthy rival in Marrakech’s thick and laden orange trees, fountain palms, and tall trunks of nothing that suddenly umbrella out at the top above everything.

There is no inch of space that isn’t decorated by tiles, tracery or ornament. Colour, colour, everywhere. The smells – incense, rotting oranges, spices. And beware the population of stray cats that pull without mercy on your heartstrings. The place truly is an assault on the senses. For a girl who considers herself ‘of the word’ Marrakech certainly wasted no time in shutting me up. My people-watching tendencies went into overdrive however, sometimes to an embarrassing degree for my companion; it is tough enough to get by in a country so foreign without having to travel alongside someone who consists of nothing but gawping eyes and gaping mouth.

Of course one cannot visit Marrakech without braving Jemaa el Fna – the mother, father and extended family of all markets. I’d heard many horror stories about such places and the hassle a single woman would get from the vendors, so I was expecting my day to be a challenge not unlike reaching the bar in a nightclub, ungroped, five minutes before closing time.

I soon, however, developed a failsafe method of survival involving dropping my eyes and plunging onwards. Me, I’m more accustomed to grinning at anyone who passes my way, sometimes to the extent that it sends little old ladies skittering in the opposite direction with their tails between their legs. So this tactic was no mean feat for me.

The more calls and comments that were thrown my way, the harder that giggle inside would boil up; it was inevitable that it would eventually spill over. It was always well received when it did however. In fact, on one occassion my companion was offered 4,000 dirham to relieve himself of me. 

Although this would be considered quite a pot of nectar in a poverty stricken area such as the one we were mired in at the time, nonetheless, I was a little stung that there wasn’t at least one camel thrown into the dowry.

I wisely deduced though, that on this occasion in Marrakech, haggling wouldn’t be in my best interest. Best instead, to accept the offer as compliment and keep plunging.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Happy Veritable-Porn Eve

With the release of the Fifty Shades of Smut, sorry, Grey, movie snapping at our arse cheeks, I would like to introduce you to Ommastasia...


Go forth and buy, my friends, go forth and buy.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Wanna be a Backer?

So most of us enjoy reading, right? And we're all intrigued by the word 'investment.' I mean, who among us hasn't daydreamed about coming across that one off chance, taking that leap despite our gut instincts, and getting the big payout for our bravery?

Well, I can't promise you the big payout, but I can promise you an honourary mention as well as the bragging rights of being a backer, a friend, a fairy Godparent of literature. 38 of us authors are involved in a new project called the Book 38 project. 38 authors, 38 of the world's creepiest abandoned places - put them together and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's going to happen - 38 horror stories that will have you shitting in your pants, guaranteed.

There's just one problem - the project needs funding. For your dough you get our eternal gratitude, as well as a mention in the front of the book, kind of like movie credits. Yes, you heard me... your name.. in print.

So, what are you waiting for? Follow the link and be a backer :)


Besides, who doesn't love art? Or at least feel sorry for a struggling author... 38 struggling authors.


Thursday, January 8, 2015

Emma Ennis? Anseo

Hello there, loyal readers, if indeed there are any of you out there at all and I haven't just invented you in my wishful little mind. I hope you all had a nice Christmas...

Omma Clause
and a happy new year...

Omworks
So far 2015 has been pretty shite, I think we can all agree, and not just personally. Killings, shootings, this thing in Paris (weak I know, but I don't pay attention to the news; I've enough trouble getting out of the bed some days as it is)... as if January wasn't depressing enough without people going all apeshit on their fellow man. 

But the show must go on. People (namely me) must still promote their books, toil to survive, struggle to achieve their dreams. And the entertainment Gods must still spew out movies for our viewing pleasure. 

I honest to God never understood the whole hype surrounding the Taken trilogy. Sure, it had oodles of gratuitous action, labyrinthine nefarious plots, and of course that oh so memorable phone scene, but was it really so new and different than what we've seen before? Did it really merit two more of the fecking things? Given that I didn't even watch the sequel, you can safely say that I, personally, think not.

Anywhos, if you can't beat them, join them, or in my case, become them. And so, in honour of the much anticipated, though not by me, release of Taken 3 I give you...

Om Neeson



Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Moral Dilemma

So, I have a bit of a dilemma. Recently I had one of those light-bulb over the head moments, except this was more like a flood-light or the headlights of an oncoming, speeding train. This gigantic idea came to me out of the blue for a series of books, which (of course) I think is going to be truly the best thing since sliced bread.

Where's the problem in that, I hear you expostulate while gesturing wildly at whatever electronic doohickey you're reading this on? Well, beyond the fact that if I start this thing it will most likely have me tied up for about 10 years, and that's only a wild guess in the early stages of the plans. It's highly possible this time frame could expand like the waist band of my pants seven days from now.

No, my problem is that I've been researching like mad for this thing. However, my {sarky double quotes}research{end sarky double quotes} involves endless hours of dredging through information on anything even remotely occult, as well as urban legends and mythical/supernatural creatures. It also involves watching such things as Castle, Supernatural and the likes of Sin City on a daily basis, not to mention continuing on playing Max Payne 3.

You see, none of this seems quite like work to me. There's a certain sense of guilt mixed in with my feeling of well-being at the end of a hard day's work. No longer do I have to wrestle with my conscience as I plug t'auld laptop into the telly and drool over a healthy helping of Nathan Fillion or Jensen Ackles, or dive neck and eyeballs deep into some article relating to one of the many things that interest the socks off me. It is, after all, in the name of "research"...

I suppose I can take comfort (penance) in the fact that it also involves reading huge chunks of the bible. I wonder should I start to combine this with a little light flagellation? Hmmm... Anyway, Happy Hanukkah.

Rabbi Om


Friday, December 12, 2014

Happy Hobbitday

So, here it is, the end, the last of the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit sagas. The trailers for The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies has been giving me shivers, and I must admit, when I think about it I do get more than a little sad that it's almost over. It's one of those things where you can't wait for it to come, but you don't want it to arrive either.

Bear in mind, fans have been following this franchise since 2001... that's 13 years ago. Excuse me while I take a moment here, to digest how aged I am... Anyway, 13 years, now that's a long time to be following anything, and to suddenly be faced with the end, well, it's nothing short of devastating.

Though I wasn't overly fond of the first Hobbit movie, the rest of the movies in the Tolkien saga blew me away, and not only for the overabundance of manliness therein either. Nope, not a shallow bone in this body.

Of course I'll give all involved the night to celebrate, but come the morrow the movie-making powers-that-be better be dug deep into a brainstorming session over the next epic to reel our way in the absence of these fine gentlemen... I mean fantastical adventure tales. Then again, there is always The Simarillion...

Annnnnnywho, in honour of this great and awful day, I made a meme :)


#fedupwithpolitepromotion #OmboBaggins