My Blog

Feeling the thrilled*

Thanks to the lovely Pete Riski for making this ad for us, being the first Finnish person I know, showing me that I want to visit if not live in NewFoundland but most importantly for teaching me how those tiny little ships actually fit inside those glass bottles. I'd always wondered. I still like to imagine it's a magical technique preformed by an adorable gentile old man who whiles away the hours working meticulously in a sunbathed dusty attic, not disimilar to the one in Bettle juice but with more charm and fairy lights. In my feature film mind Richard Attenborough plays the somewhat autistic old man and Betty White, his adoring wife, who brings him jam sandwichs and mugs of hot tea while marvelling at his progress. Wouldn't that be a lovely, if somewhat boring movie. You are totally welcome, universe. What do you think? Am I onto something?

Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, this ad. Get down to the casino everyone. It's so fricking exciting it'll make your hair stand on end. True story.

*sorry couldn't resist.

Sharing is caring.

Apologies for my conspicuous absence from this blog - it's starting to look a bit dusty and unloved on here - like myspace. In my defense those episodes of Jersey Shore and Teen Mom aren't going to watch themselves.

I've been busy being fabulous, of course. You know, doing crazy stuff like getting the sky train, eating ready made meals for one (joke, Mammy I promise I'm eating vegetables) and being in work all the time. Actually I'm just back from the cinema, Drive is awesome by the way and Ryan Gosling.... not at all difficult to watch. I consumed approximately 4 litre of diet coke. My teeth hurt and I had to wee for 75% of the movie and now I cannot even construct a sentence without heading off on another tangent, aspartame is a food group, right?

So to my main point (I sort of have one), here's the brief,* Lauren my bff came to visit me. She's one of five potential people who actually read this blog (another one being Rachel) and one of the others being a robot spammer who left me a message suggesting retirement villages options in Australia. (I'm actually interested, retirement sounds perfect for me). Sorry this sugar buzz is too much. So for some strange reason both Lauren and Rachel are somewhat obsessed with the coverage they receive on my hugely popular international blog. Lauren's issue of contention however lays in the face time Rachel has received. And mainly the fact that she's never even been featured. After this post she may hark back nostalgically to those days.

Many may be surprised to learn that Lauren and I spent the long weekend in BC, the outdoor pursuits capital of the world, essentially drinking but Ta-Da... we did. Having someone like Lauren come visit BC was heaven on earth. She's lazy as sin, love to drink wine and is so laid back she's horizontal. Sure we did stuff, but we did it with the least amount of energy we could possibly exert. Besides we were exhausted, those wine glasses we're going to lift themselves. Boozing in the sunshine, getting freckled and sun burnt is tiring. One could also argue that we'd too much to talk about having not seen each other for months upon months. Lucky for Lauren I'd saved up all my chat and proverbially vomited all said chat onto her. Proverbially, what a pretentious word. Chuckle.
Impressively, with the little effort exerted we still managed to accomplish the following: Shop, chat, drink, chat, shop some more, chat, eat dinner in rosemantic spot over looking the water and city, walk approx. 27 miles. Chat. Get a sea bus. Chat. Travel up a mountain on a gondola, spy wolves from said gondola. Chat. Have a lesbian sit beside us on our romantic journey. Don't chat. See real life bears, be really impressed with said bears. Chat. Happen upon a bird show, be less impressed, decide to have some wine instead. Chat. Walk past a wood chopping show, feign interest, decide on more wine. Chat. See the whole world (or Vancouver at least) from top of mountain. Take photos. Go disco-ing like in the olden days, snog a Canadian. Slur. Hiccup. Chat. Get out of bed after little sleep and haul ourselves with the other peasants through public transport to an island on a ferry whilst still experiencing fragile effects from copious wine consumed. Don't chat. Be continually subjected to loud American's almost everywhere. Listen. Scoff. Try on hideous second hand attire. Laugh. Scoff. Buy said hideous vintage attire. Flirt with hot half Irish half syrian concierge (some of us were better at that than others) and be courted by a dubious Canadian hipster with a penchant for English accents, Kate Middleton look-a-likes, and saving the whales. Laugh. Be talked out of planned whale sight seeing trip not because concern for environment nor whales but rather potential disappointment we might experience from not actually seeing whales and therefore not being able to drink more. Laugh. Be on a ferry again, see a volcano. Chat. Fat app ourselves, laugh. There was a lot of eating in there too but I don't like think about that.
All our chatting lead us to an sauvignon blanc induced epiphany: I have way too many feelings and Lauren is actually dead inside. I feel like these feelings were a result saturn being in venus and sauvignon blanc being in our glasses. Amazingly after 8 yrs of friendship I managed to break Lauren down and open the flood gates to year and years of repressed emotions. Sharing is caring Lauren and I'm happy to say I sent her off on her merry way. Back to single-dom in NYC where she'll probably die alone or at the very least be such an old bride she'll be wheeled up the aisle by one of these "bridesmaids" who apparently "won't be me", which is fine as I'll probably be 6ft under by that stage anyhow and you'd have me in a hideous dress regardless.
It's been lonely since Lauren left. All my feelings are getting stored up again. It's time for Rachel to visit now. Come soon though, otherwise the Maylee's in for a very long skype.

(How scarily convincing am I as a fatty? )

So if you were wondering what I’ve been doing instead of blogging, there you have it.
*Never believe me when I say I'll be brief, I'm basically incapable of this.

Love me everyone.

This week I guest blogged on stimulantonline.ca . Go me. No biggie, but the shameless self promotion did increase my blog stats on ilikecreative ten fold (for a day or two. People tire of me quickly evidently). World domination here I come. That is all.

Jedi mind trick.

Every now and again I like to make lists of things I've actually already done. This is an excellent form of procrastination and also gives me a smug sense of self achievement. I typically add these to the huge lists of tasks I actually have to do and rather than that list depressing me I trick myself into thinking I've loads done. Try it, it works.

So....

So, I'm living in Vancouver now. I would apologise for the lack of blogging but it would probably be annoying to read and even more so for me to write. So I digress. Now that I've been living in Vancouver for just over 4months I feel I am a somewhat qualified to comment on some things Canadian, from a foreigners perspective. Here's the tiny morsels of wisdom I can give you thus far.

This won't be news to some of you but Canada is MASS-HOOSIVE. Seriously. So all those maps out there depicting Ireland as this small quite legible country in the Atlantic are lies, lies I tell you. It's microscopic. It took me a day to get to Vancouver Island. Incidentally this is the size of Ireland and then some. A day. Donegal to Cork takes 8 hours. Anyhow, I just thought I'd tell you we were all being fooled and if you ever think you can take a trip to Vancouver Island and still be back in time for an interview the next morning then you'd be wrong. Plan ahead.

Canada is every bit as beautiful as all those pictures tell you. Just walking around here makes you happy. I recommend soundtracking these walks to some Paolo Nutini to achieve ultimate elation. I'm actually being sincere.

It RAINS here. You know how in your head you somehow don't connect real life and living abroad and you have this wild exceptions of sunshine, rainbows and unicorns. Welcome to the real world which also exists in foreign lands. Vancouver has it's fair share of rain but it's the Californian coast in comparison to other Canadian cities so really it's hard to complain. If you're Irish you'll still give it a good go. Vancouverites have promised me an "awesome summer" and all I can say is that I hope for yer sake it materialises otherwise there will be a wyle bit of whinging done.

Which brings me to my next point. Canadians are a happy bunch. Their enthusiasm amazes me and sometimes it knows no bounds. Sincerely, even the crappiest most mundane task/ thing ever, seemingly delights them. Case and point:

Coffeeshopguy to me (excited): "Heeey, how's it going?"

Me to coffeeshopguy (deadpan): "Grand, how are you?"

Coffeeshopguy to me: (smug) "Pretty fricking awesome".

Me (thinking) Maybe I should work in a coffee shop.

Mostly I think this is great and an absolute pleasure but sometimes, just sometimes I think a good dose of Irish cynism is called for. *At least that's how I like to justify my mood swings.

Vancouver much like Montreal (apparently) has some very attractive peeps. Never has the statement "the ole Irish head on him" resonated so much. You can normally spot us from a mile off. The girls in particular are infamous and if your Irish and male your in luck. I can only conclude that they're over indulged in too much PS I love you and Colin Farrell fantasies ( though I am guilty of that one myself). Having an Irish accent on a man in Canada is the equivalent to having a rippling six pack, a Porsche and the ability to cure sick puppies while galloping majestically on a white stead. Use this power wisely. An Irish accent on a girl in Canada is the equivalent of having a beard. That won't be your biggest obstacle in your attempts to snare a Canadian boy though. Unlike Irish men who wear their lack of rhythm and questionable fashion choices as a testament to their heterosexuality, Canadian men dress well, are polite and often carry man-bags. Your first task is sorting prospective guys from the gays. Secondly, being able to have “the craic” (usually mindless vandalism, borderline alcoholism and language that would make a sailor wince) isn’t something most Canucks look for in a potential life partner. Thirdly, see point 2.

And finally and perhaps most notably for me, not all Canadians will find you as hilarious as you believe you are. My humor has been described European (read: not funny), when in fact we all know that I'm hilarious (read: European).

The Budget...

It's D-Day in Ireland as the Budget will be announced this evening. It's been a cause of distress and anguish amongst the whole country these past few weeks. Much speculation has surrounded it as we await our fate. Here's a press ad I just completed that ran as a full page ad in today's paper. It's for our clients, The Irish Examiner.

"We" time is the best time.

This weekend was designated to Rachel and I indulging in some "we" time. "We" weekends can really lead to day's evaporating into a haze of beatific nothingness. Before you judge us too harshly I'd like to point out the Dublin is currently experiencing epic snow fall and therefore it practically forced us to sit in front of the fire for 15 hours straight, gossiping, guzzling wine and gorging on chips. It was amazing. Every month should have a "we" weekend. With the snow being so treacherous we managed to eliminate all guilt we may normally of had from not experiencing day light whatsoever. Sure wasn't there only about an hour of it anyhow (please nod along when reading that last line).
During this fifteen hour telly-thon we learned many things that are important for one to know in order to fully enjoy a snow day and some "we" time with one's own friends. Please allow me to education with some of our morsels of wisdom.

Applying make up and getting dressed is a waste of time, energy and resources. Far better you concentrate on what's in the fridge and not fool yourself into pretending you've contemplated venturing out. Here's what you should wear.
A small fire place can sure use a lot of fuel. Please ensure you have at least twenty logs, a fire bag and three buckets of coal to maintain adequate heat in the room. It's also a good idea to put on the heating and boost it every two to three hours in order to maintain that sauna like existence you've become accustomed too.
Bagel's work for both breakfast, brunch and lunch. The trick is to have a little variety in every meal. We used eggs and coronation chicken (not together). One should eat as often as possible throughout the day to ensure you keep your strength up. Chilli Doritos are also nutritious and delicious.
It is strangely easy to consume six pots of tea in one day and yet still not feel like you've had any tea. Make sure to stock up on milk and tea bags otherwise you may have to go to the local shop. God forbid.
5pm is an excellent time to begin drinking wine and not have guilts of your alcoholic tendencies due to early day time drinking.
5pm is much too early to begin drinking wine and not expect to be quite intoxicated come 9pm.
Having consumed wine all men on television, even the inappropriately young ones become incredibly attractive.
Singing men are incredibly attractive. Falling in love with X factor contestants is inevitable. Don't fight it. You'll come to your senses in the morning.
Bacon is good for you. Please watch this clip over and over and over again to reassure yourself of this fact.
Sometimes chicken nuggets for breakfast can sound very appealing.
Mario's chippy in Harold's cross to exceptionally tasty chips. We can recommend the curry sauce and the taco sauce but never together.
When drinking wine it is possible to spend €100 on call credit and yet still maintain deep conversations with the person beside you. Rachel's bank manager would never recommend this however.
Drinking wine and eating chips can make you giddy and hilarious. Why not share that hilarity with the rest of the world. They should really know how fantastically funny you and your friend/s are and what your up to right now. You've heard about chatroulette and think it's probably fun. Why not, if nothing else it's an immediate audience and it's probably like going to a bar without having to get up from the couch, right?
Wrong. People on chatroulette don't actually want to chat at all. They probably only want to see your boobs or in our case toes.
Sunday's can make "we" time look like a dark polluted swamp of drink, debauchery, bad food, bad TV and lots and lots and lots of laughing. Counteract any fear or dread you might have by never ever being alone and watching repeats of 16 and pregnant in order to feel better about one's life.

December 1st is here.

So Hello Canada, I'm coming. Here's my drawing of what I expect it to be like. I hear it's so cold the bears wrap up and talk- that's nothing to do with cold though. I'm so fricking excited. I have only 18days left in Dublin. Then I leave for Canadia one month later. Expect much more bears/ deers/ moose's in my drawings to come.

"Righter Writing", thats right.

Friday past I attended a copywriting course in the Guiness storehouse (see attached pics). The course, "Righter Writing" was hosted by the lovely Patrick Collister of Creative Matters and previously every agency in the UK it would seem. Impressive CV.

It was a mortifying experience for an Art Director clueless in copywriting, particularly because I stupidly and naively sat at the front. I guess the same set of rules of stand up comedy shows apply in lectures. Don't sit at the front if you don't want to be picked on and most importantly- if you're an idiot. I got both wrong.

Our first task was to write ones own obituary. What a hideous task. We had five minutes. I drew a coffin with a grim reaper sobbing over it. A speech bubble from him said "She was so so young. It was an accident". The drawing was shocking. Underneath it I wrote 1982-2010. I then sat for two of three minutes and wondered what the 25 strangers in the room were writing. Everyone seemed to be diligently scribbling away. Shit, better put something down so I wrote 'Annie will be missed very much by her friends and family because if she's not she will come back and haunt them till the end of time.'

Time was up. Momentary relief for me as we put our pens down. I never expected my idiocy to be exposed. Can you imagine my utter humilation when Patrick said "so....what have you written?". Sheee-it. Was he talking to me when he stood in front of me, looking at me asking that question? Surely not! Incrediously I looked left, then right and said "who me?". My inner monologue did a series of panicked f*ck, sh%t and cr@p's. I spluttered that I didn't have anything. Phew. Anyone else might have sensed I was a cretin and moved on, but Patrick perservered and encouraged, saying things like "come on, I seen you writing" and "don't be afraid, it's good to share. We're all learning here." Undeterred I persisted that I had nothing and I clung to my notepad as though I would reveal the 3rd secret of fatima were anyone to see it. I was prepared to eat that piece of paper before I'd share with the group. Eventually Patrick realised and moved on. Halleluia. This is what my obituary should have said:

Annie, female, aged 28. Died mortified. Suffered from horrendous congenital stupidity.

I can't help but feel my erratic behaviour set a precedent for the rest of the talk. I spent ages wondering if he thought I was an idiot, asking myself why the hell didn't I just say it and get it over with and a substainitial amount of time mentally slapping myself in the face.

In between all the self torture I was doing I managed to pick up quite a few tips. None of which I've implimented here, which is great. He's actually really smart so please don't let my writing be a reflection of the day.

Although not strictly just about copywriting and more about concepting I found his suggestion of approaching advertising from seven key points to be quite helpful for when you've hit a creative block. He broke down those seven types into key points.

1. The Presenter

2. Demonstration

3. Problem/ Solution

4. Analogy

5. Inversion

6. Slice of life (observation)

7. Borrowed interest.

You can approach any brief by looking at one or all seven of these themes. It's a clever way to think in terms generating thought starters for when you seem to run out of steam.

This isn't all the information I took from the day, it's just some simple pointers that help you over the hump. I'd have to write a dissertation or include the actual presentation if I was to go through everything. If you ever get the chance to see Patrick speak I'd highly recommend it.

An bhfuil éire go brách?

This is a tactical idea we had for the four door MINI Countryman coming up to the budget in Ireland. Everyone's aware of financial shambles Ireland is currently in and there's public outcry at politicians arriving in the Dáil in seperate chauffeur driven cars- that's where the new MINI would come in. Clever eh? Unfortunately this idea won't be going ahead but wouldn't it of been awesome.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

I've just finished shooting the eMobile Christmas ad. eMobile is a mobile service just launched in Ireland in October. It primarily targets the 35+ age bracket. In this ad we aimed to reiterate our simplicity message by stating there's a phone for everyone at eMobile stores. The charachter Nick is an extension of the theme eMobile rolled out from launch in which different personalities from eMobile aim to make your life easier.

Here's some 'behind the scenes shots'. I had a particular fondness for the old man. He was just so jolly. (the whiskey before call time probably helped).

Interestingly we fake snowed this whole ad and Dublin is now covered in about 5inches of it. It's so pretty and such a novetly. I wonder how long it will last. We walked home on Saturday night in it. Check out some of the scenes from my iphone on my dailyography

Well, well...

Look what I just retrieved from my Spam...what is the world coming to when such emails appear unwanted?!
I know if I'd a penis I'd want it to be a cool one.

From: <EnlargePenis.Hi1@yahoo.com>

Date: 24 November 2010 18:56:24 GMT

To: anne.shortall@chemistry.ie

Subject: It's just cool!

It's just cool! Have a cool penis!

http://uhoiw.tuiggve.ru

*Please note I am not encouraging you to click the above link and therefore can take no responsibilty for any viruses/ implosions this site may cause

A loud laugh bespeaks a vacant mind

I just watched the above clip literally eight times. It's so brilliant, I cannot stop laughing. This type of thing entertains me no end. Writing that down makes me feel really sad. None the less it is fact and here's proof. A selection of shots of me and my lovely ladies photo-boothing ourselves. I also have a series of videos but I have been forbidden from sharing "for my own health and safety". The clip above is much more awesome that we could ever have achieved, we spent too much time fighting over who was getting a look in. Also I have a really big hunch that we think we're much funnier than we really are in reality. Hey, as long as we're happy.

Please note that these shots are old and from a period I like to refer too as "what the F were you thinking". I have since return to my blond* roots.

*chemically enhanced

Super Grannies

This is so fricking cute it’ll make your heart melt into marshmallowy gooey goodness. Photographer Sacha Bada photographs his granny in some seriously cool set ups. With this series he has made super gran a reality, not just an awesome 80's kids TV hit.

I find it really endearing that he took the time and effort to make his gran feel this special, it's a bonus that his images are so super (sorry about that). Check out the whole series on his site. Here’s a little background:
“A few years ago, French photographer Sacha Goldberger found his 91-year-old Hungarian grandmother Frederika feeling lonely and depressed. To cheer her up, he suggested that they shoot a series of outrageous photographs in unusual costumes, poses, and locations. Grandma reluctantly agreed, but once they got rolling, she couldn’t stop smiling."

She's an amazing lady. The whole series made me think of the time I spent with my granny and also of a series of photographs I took. My effort was much more pathetic by comparison (damn you Sacha) but I'm really pleased I have them to look back on now. It also should be said that granny was a much less willing accomplice. There is also the argument that she hadn't really any idea what she was doing. It's no wonder she became irritated at my persistence that "these are your actual glasses granny, honestly". She was on to me. Anyhow, enjoy these and I'll sign off before 'Friends of the aged' catch up with me and have me put on some sort elderly abuse offenders list.

Ask me anything? (please)

Someone? Anyone out there use formspring? Well, either it's just not taken off in Ireland or it just hasn't taken off anywhere. Surely it's implausible that no-one would want to ask me anything, ever. Scoff, scoff. Isn't it!?!

What's really tragic about my formspring profile is that I still continue to answer the computer generated questions in a vain hope that a real person may eventually ask me a real question. (Ultimately allowing me to warble on about myself to feigned interest from real person). Please be that real person. I'd love to share my favourite colour with you.

Offsetting my drama

I spent some weekends past at offset in Dublin's Grand Canal theatre (pretty). How very cultural of me, I know. Anyhow, my inspiration was undermined by the dark cloud hanging over me having essentially crashed the company car earlier that morning. It's a long story, one which (incase anyone from work ever comes across this) I refuse to make any further comment on until I see my lawyer. Oh fuck it. Here goes.... The main thing you should know is that I made it to my destination alive, but not before proving how utterly incompetent and generally mentally unstable I am.

The actual incident itself is pretty unmemorable, the bottom of the car was hanging low due to absolute negliance of a company pool car, this coincided with the sheer hard luck of a slow puncture meant the damn thing would not clear a speed ramp coming up to a roundabout. Some spine chilling screeches later and I have essentially torn off the bottom section of the car. It looked pretty bad- some little black wires, the lights and small springy bits jutted out from underneath adding to the "holy fuck" factor. That's about as much technical information I can give you.

So I'm sitting awaiting my brother to my rescue with a hammer, or a wrench or something from a tool box and I'm feeling useless. I decide my flat buster tyre, broken lights and hanging off bonnet are not enough to be concerned with and 'feeling sorry for myself' should get a look in too. So I have a good cry to myself, demolish a pack of Mega Monster Munch and shamefully half a packet of malteasers someone had stowed away in the glove compartment for god knows how long (they were slightly chewy).

I soundtracked this eating/weeping fiasco with some Johnny Cash on repeat. "Hurt" was particularly poignant because my pride was so very hurt-ed. I was beginning to enjoy the drama and melancholy of it all when I realised I'd probably flatline the battery. iPhone to the rescue, I found the ultimate power ballad- featuring Bonnie Tyler and Meat loaf (WOW)- wait for it "Have you ever seen the rain". Power ballads are so empowering (hence the name I suppose). About 38 secs into the track I realised Bonnie was talking to me and no sooner had I realised but I was imagining myself as some kinda of tragic heroin from a movie who would despite everything would over come all the odds before being carted off by a handsome prince on a white steed.

I can recommend this little trick to any emotionally unstable ladies out there. Suddenly your situation is less pathetic and strangely epic. Thankfully this is the point, where imagination and reality would have collided. Patrick, said brother arrived and sorted everything out. Not silently of course. He moaned and groaned, because he's my brother and I'm an idiot. Thankfully I've mastered the technique of selective hearing learned from my father and his instruction to "drive very slowly on the motorway" as I had "a temporary tyre on and it was very hazardous in the wet conditions" was absorbed and all other lecturing dismissed.

Off I headed chugging along through the apocayltic rain at 40KM per hour down a MOTOR-WAY. It took about 6 minutes before it dawned on me that he was actually trying to fucking kill me. Motor-way's in torrential rain at 40mph per hour are not a safe place, let me tell you. I guess this was his pay back for all those years spent torturing him, hogging the front seat, making him play Flower Fairies, calling him out on a Saturday morning to come and rescue me from a motorway with a flat and a busted light. That type of thing. People are crazy fricking drivers now a days. One truck practically forced me of the road, this is fact. I wish I had evidence apart from 01-DL-1962, just kidding. I've no idea of the plates I was too busy trying to save myself from imminent death. It wasn't all bad though, I quite enjoyed when speeders let me know I was only doing 40km in my tricycle by sitting on the horn whilst rearending me for 99.9% of the journey. That wasn't stressful at all. When I arrived in Dublin, 3 hours later I realised I should probably have put on my hazard lights. Let's never speak of this again.

All this trauma made it difficult to concentrate on offset, which is a shame. I will say though that Chris Haughton was my highlight and Gary Baseman was my lowlight. You can see an interview with the lovely Chris here. And hopefully never ever have to endure Basemans creamy love without previously consenting to it.

Check out me re-design

Got me some large image display going on now. Magic, though I may need to call upon the trusty photoshop for all future shots of my lovely self featured. Either that or I'll politely request you only view this blog drunk (it'll be much funnier then too) or without your glasses/contact lens in tact. Drunk is my preference though, beer turns 'bow' into 'wow'.

That is all.

Focus Ireland

I meant to post these sooner. Some work I've just finished with photographer Liam Murphy for Focus Ireland job. See my previous post for an unprofessional look at our lovely model Ciara

Nerd happiness

I'm currently experience a euphoria I can only describe as tragic. A blog post of some notebook sheets I found on etsy and shared has just went viral. In the space of a day 1,600 people have visited my blog. My wee dashboards having a coronary. My anayltics, previously guilty of flat-lining have went into anaphylactic shock. And I feel strangely proud. I mean, it's not my work that's going viral, but I'm reaping the rewards- how cool is that. I now owe the universe something. Please accept the dinner I concucted last night from left over fajita's mix and a potatoe and two peppers. It was ok, someone somewhere would be thankful. I'll put it in a portal I call the fridge and throw it out in two days time if none-one wants it.

I should say too thanks to you RetroNaNa for coming up with this super fabric and making the blog word love it but mostly thanks to myself for being a serial shopper and discovering it on the ever fabulous etsy. Todays a good day.

Ps: 1,670 since I started writing this post.

A little group...

of nerds, on route to the pub on a Fri night like American teenagers in a gang.

Notice Keith's most excellent sparkling accessory. I'm jealous. Would have looked much better on Poppy. Just saying, is all.