The Game Plan.

11 days left. Well, I thought I had until the 23rd but apparently I have been living under the impression this entire semester that I have the power to change dates to when I wish they existed.

Example 1:

May 4, 2011, 2:15pm, NUIG Library: In the midst of studying for my marketing final which, in this moment, believed was May 5, I decided to check the time of my exam.

2:17 -> Realize my exam was May 3, 9:30 am. At this time I was at the end of my Amsterdam/Brussels trip landing safely (and surprisingly) back in Dublin. 

{no need to go into how, but the aforementioned exam debacle has been handled}

Example 2: 

Written in my calendar, phone, roommate calendar, icalendar, etc flight home MAY 23RD.

I remember this exactly because I spent most of my class time researching how to change my flight to June. So yesterday I went to check my flight time and realized it was 2 days earlier aka 2 days after I come home from Barcelona/Venice. Looking around my room I see an overdue library book to be returned, clothes to be washed in our broken laundry machine, and a shit ton of other random stuff to do. Like ride a pony. Er go, the need for a Game Plan.

To Do List:

1. Wash clothes and pack for Barcelona/Venice.

2. Get some gelato.

3. Survive and return from Barcelona/Venice.

4. Pack an obscene amount into 2 suitcases and/or ship.

5. Send postcards from January.

6. Ride a pony.

7. Throw Oliver a going away party, preferably without him there, on the roof of his apartment building that we rent.

8. Fish and Chips
9. Upload the 3 months worth of pictures just hanging out in my iphoto
10. Start/Finish the 3 months worth of blogging I will most likely never get around to.

11. Go punta cana on the Galway Bay.

12. Relive the first 2 weeks of Ireland in 4 nights.
13. Get to airport and NOT miss flight.

Spar time (which according to Samantha will be the most missed aspect of my Galwegian life.)
. to be continued.

Long time, no Blog

In case you couldn't have already guessed it based on previous blogs, there is academic work to be done and I have very little drive to do it. To conclude Birthday week, the kids and I partook in the International Students Society trip to Northern Ireland. The trip fell on Maire's birthday and considering her condition and lack of participation on Shannon Day, I decided it was only proper that I return the favor. In addition to Maire's birthday, February 25th was also the day our science essay was do. Science essay? Is that a fkckaosfhing joke? It was not. However, the content of my essay was. As per usual, I procrastinated and only finished at 6:39am (we were supposed to leave at 6:30). I also still had to pack.  My timely friends/jerks decided they were going to put an end to tolerating my habitual tardiness and left without me. This became a re-occuring theme of  the weekend.

The bus to the black sheep turf of Ireland was rather uneventful. We were all tired as shit. Anyone who likes to nap in a moving vehicle knows, the window is the ideal place for such activities. Unfortunately, Emmet stole Maire from me and I was stuck sitting on the bus with Kevin who will UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES surrender the window seat. However, he was down to snuggle. Somehow, despite my aisle seat, Kev's boney shoulder, and the long bumpy bus ride, the exhaustion overcame all obstacles and we managed to pass out. Little did everyone on the bus know that these long, peaceful moments, when all of us were sleeping like angels, would be the last enjoyable moments for them on the PaddyWagon Destination: Belfast.

4 Hours Later:
"Goood Morning eveeeeryone. Is eveerryy bodyyy haaapppayy? Welcome to Belfast." This voice coming over the loud speaker belonged to our PaddyWagon drive. Seany. Not Sean. Pronounced: Shawnay. You would think he was having a competition with himself to sound out every vowel as long as he could. But what a sweet baby angel. If I was given 5 minutes of magical powers I would have utilized them to turn him into a pocket size leprechaun forever in my pocket.

This was a big day for me in other ways as well. Tonight in Belfast would be my first experience in a hostel. Yes, I have seen the movie. We crammed into the greeting area and began to be divided up into rooms. The eight of us found ourselves in a 24 person room. I literally had to walk sideways through the aisles of bunk beds. I figured at least this way if I was going to get kidnapped and sold away to be tortured until death, I have some form of strength-in-numbers. Then I realized that a large portion of the group I was surrounded by (Kelsey, Lydia, Christine, Jen etc) would not only be useless in a life or death situation, but also slow me down. Moreover, be the cause for people wanting to murder us. Within an hour of arrival I am confident everyone outside our eight in that hostel room had just such thoughts.

The fear of my potential upcoming kidnapping/torture/murder had to be put on the backburner as I was reminded of my true mission that night - return the Birthday Disaster favor to Maire. I GOT OUT DONE ON MY 21ST BIRTHDAY. No way would I let her win this one. I decided vodka was the best route. While the Spanish group next to us enjoyed a home-cooked group meal, we turned into this:

Before we could leave the hostel, we felt the need to disturb the 16 other people in our room. Kevin's shoes were lost and we had to find them. Please note the faces of all the innocent bystanders safe in their beds: 

This still wasn't enough for Kelsey who decided to pick the most random argument ever with another temporary roommate. Finally, we headed out into Belfast. Kelsey left her ability to walk at the hostel.

Aside from falling down, it wouldn't be a night with Princess Peach unless someone, or something was told to "S*** the D***" that she eludes to having. Belfast in general was tonight's victim. I soon realized, stealing the disaster award on Maire's birthday was a team effort - a team where Kelsey and Kevin were co-captains. This is the part in the night where the blog looses detail, for obvious reasons. We made our way to a club so I could meet Meeghan, Viana's friend from school. I think she also got the memo of the required state of mind for that evening. Within an unknown amount of time, Kevin was approached by a bouncer regarding his "apple juice" bottle. Always the gentleman, he escorted himself out. This is where I got lost. As per usual. I think it's a birthday thing. I felt like I was back in NYC for Herb's B-Day 2010. Since I had Meeghan, my inability to locate anyone I came with, or was supposed to leave with, was not a top-priority concern. When 2:30 came, reality kicked in. I knew I had to be up at 8am and foresaw missing the bus by accepting Meeghan's offer to sleep over. Then I had to accept the truth that I had no idea how to get back. Perfect opportunity to combine my two favorite late night activities of walking around aimlessly and exploring. Challenge accepted universe. After wandering Northern Ireland for a solid amount of time and cursing the name of all my friends, an angel was sent to me in the form of a very nice Irish girl around 25. All I recall of this saint was that she was wearing flats. Anyone kosher enough to wear flats out on a Friday night was considered wholesome in my book. "Sweety, are you lost?" I gave her the name of my hostel and she took flagged a cab. Two blocks! Despite the fact that if there was ever to be a situation where my Hostel (the movie) nightmare came true it was them, I was so proud of myself for almost finding my way back I didn't even factor the threat of the circumstances in. My bunk-buddy Kevin was safe in bed with his pants on so we "could not rape him" which apparently was a major concern of his. Clearly the 6:1 girl to guy ratio had effected his psychi more than we thought. 

7am: Samantha woke up made at everyone, even though it was completely her fault I got lost. This unnecessary anger lasted until she had breakfast, and I got off the bus. Kevin approached me in the kitchen and promised he would not leave me anywhere again. I waited for Team Espana to toast 100 pieces of bread, until I finally got mine and went back to find that they left me AGAIN. My magnetic draw to Shaaawnayyy led me to the bus where I chose not to sit with said jerks. Thank god I did not. Next came Part 2 of being Internationally hated on the PaddyWagon.

Instead of "on a dude" Kelsey ralphed on the PaddyWagon. Yup. No shot we were making any friends this trip.

The next night we went to Derry where President Emmet finagled us into being a part of the fortunate 12 that were taken out of the overbooked hostel and placed in a B&B. As if the hostel, the bus rides, and undeserved accommodations weren't enough, Emmet lead us away from the group to our luxurious B&B with a departing "Happy Queing!" comment.

Dinner was rather uneventful as we all decided, or rather our livers decided, our night would be better spent watching the British "Take me Out." This show was a close second favorite of mine after My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding." Thirty desperate women partake in the show as contestants until they find a date. If you ask me, this is a way more considerate way to help such lonely singles find love, they stay until they do. It's like one of those Play until Prize claw games at the arcade. Even better the greatest characters I have seen on any American show were regulars on Take Me Out. We were lucky enough to encounter Zsa Zsa

I really have no words to explain this woman. If you took a Paris Hilton drag-queen, who had a sex change to be a woman, at age 50, with botox, all over, and the voice of Wendy Williams on a helium balloon...you would have Zsa Zsa.

Somehow we made it home without being left behind or murdered. All in all, successful family vacation. 

Since this event took over a month to blog, the best details of the weekend are probably lost in my memory. I apologize for the B Team level effort on this one. I still have a lot to catch up on so upon completion of a group brainstorm session, the next blog should be more relevant and eventful.

Cheers to Legal Drinking

Again, my apologies for being the world's worst blogger. Consistency has never been a strong suit of mine and while we are being honest, the only reason I am blogging right now is because I am procrastinating from my Coastal Environment paper. The simplicity and lack of required work that has composed my Irish student career has caused me to fall into a slacker slump that I am now being forced out of - and am NOT happy about. But in case anyone is wondering (which based on the concerned wall posts I received on my Birthday they are) I have in fact survived my 21st. Maire however, did not.

I would mock her for not making it out to the club with us, but that would be hypocritical considering none of us were allowed into the club. According to President Emmet, "in the 5 years I have lived in Galway City I have never seen a drunker group of girls." While Maire and Lydia were embarrassed at this accusation, I am personally honored. In lieu of my Irish themed 21st, I chose to combine Buckfast and Red Bull Vodkas. Poor/Great decision. I knew Ronald Bass would be proud. The next bulk of this blog will be complete hearsay, as Samantha took total control of the night before we departed from the Niland House:

After successfully taking a roommate picture, it was all down hill. Literally, we all went down. Hard. Tangled up in each other and unable to gracefully stand.

Kelsey grew to anxious to leave to wait for everyone so kidnapped the birthday girl and took me to Shop Street. Fortunately it is not hard to find a girl in a crown and tu-tu wandering the streets, so the rest of Team Birthday found us shortly.

A promoter on the street spotted us and offered to get us into Carbon for free because it was my birthday. (Note: I did not get in there last Saturday for similar reasons)

Fail. The bouncer's flagged us away before we reached the door and then called me out for "faking" my birthday. Apparently I told them it was last week as well. Woops.

Angry Samantha yelled some mean and irrational comments. Needless to say 302 will not be welcome in Carbon, ever.

The Front Door was the obvious solution. Thank god Jack was working that night. When I asked him Tuesday night if he saw us on my birthday he rolled his eyes, laughed, and said he saw "something that looked like us, but was not entirely convinced we were real people" His use of "real people"when describing my life confirmed my previous hypothesis that he utterly and completely understood me as a person, or lack there of.

Within an hour we arrived at McDonald's, even though apparently all I wanted to do was walk around Shop Street so people would wish me a happy birthday. Samantha can be so vain.

The rest is a mystery to us all, but we survived it (excluding Maire from that statement of course)

I would like to personally thank Jack the Bouncer, Kevin, Andrew, Patrick, and Emmet for not only tolerating our state of mind, assisting in our survival, but also for remaining our friends the next day.

Singles Appreciation Day

There are a lot of things in life that I miss out on for whatever reason. One such occurrence would have to be witnessing Kelsey Princess Peach Kalberer light her hair on fire when attempting to light a cigarette post-Valentine's Day shannonigans. The night began pretty standard with a few twists in honor of the holiday. Rugby, semi-hot shower, and Kelsey yelling at me for not being ready able to get ready in .5 seconds. To commemorate our single lives we chose to add a bottle of cheap champagne each to our four Druid warm up. While Jen and Christine were being wined and dined by their various Irish suitors, the A team went to Central Park to celebrate with all the other singles. Apparently there was some sort of key/lock hand out that we were too late to participate in due to my lethargic preparation methods- can't say I'm too upset we missed that. I obtained this knowledge when a guy held his key out and dangled it in my face. Bewildered, my immediate reaction was that I dropped mine so I checked my clutch. Still there, legit. In that time Princess Peach came out of Kelsey, clearly informed on whatever this gesture meant, and with the up most force slapped his arm out of the way and proceeded to shout that I was hers tonight. This is living proof that last night was truly an evening of Singles Appreciation and in NO way an attempt to get obliterated and meet other people who failed to get a Valentine. Thank god I didn't have a Valentine because I was in no condition to be sharing the left over Pizza Hut we obtained when we got the wrong order and then kept both. Still not sure why I was so desperate for pizza that I woke up to a small bite missing in a still frozen piece...

Superbowl Monday

I have learned in my first month here that despite popular belief, Europeans (or at least the Irish) do in fact like Americans. Our accents are like magnets that aside from having a lighter on hand at all times on the Front Door smoking deck, our speech is the best ice-breaker I have found here. This fascination spills over into other areas of American culture, not all, but some. Considering it was Superbowl Sunday/Monday Kelsey and I ventured over to Garvey's in Eyre Square. Fail. The doors were locked and I can't lie, a sense of relief came over me as I had just spent the past few hours mentally preparing my exhausted self to go out for the game. All I wanted to do was watch GLEE with Maire in my bed. It was ignorant or me to believe such a minimal bump in the road was going to keep Kelsey from finding an open pub. Who was I kidding? As the Druids Maire had donated to the cause of my going out kicked in and we battled with the idea of going home or continuing to stumble through the pouring rain in search of something open and playing the game, we saw a sign. Literally. Right across the street there was a big sign that said "Watch the Superbowl Here!!!" Slightly embarassed with how long it took us to see that obvious promotion accompanied with a television blantantly playing the game in the window, we complied. As we all know, the Steelers took it like a high schooler with her first boyfriend. First the Packers ran all over them, then they got defensive and took back some control, only to loose it in the end. Even though I am not a die hard Steelers fan, I am a fan of winning and was not happy that I chose to support the loosing team. I am also a fan of chants. Especially when they are in the form of "black and yellow" being screamed by a dozen drunken men with heavy Irish accents clueless as to what is actually going on in the foreign sport.While all this was going on, the Eyre Square Hotel Bar was also hosting what Kelsey and I could only believe to be a swingers convention downstairs. In addition to that madness, the management team seemed to throw out all its typical rules and regulations for the American event. Open until 5am, smoking permitted IN the bar, 3 euro beers, and most importantly FREE FOOD! Best superbowl ever. I hadn't drank an American beer since my arrival and decided it was time. As the game intensified, our drinking did as well. I don't know if it was the Budweiser's taste reminding me of  rugby drink ups, or my desire to win something ANYTHING that night, but by 3am I found myself challenging an Irish man to a Guiness chug off. Nothing about that idea was sound. This was not our first time instituting this form of hustling. Kevin, Kelsey, Lydia, Jen and I had tested this idea out originally at Karma one night. I won. Boo-ya free Jagear Bomb. My luck took a turn for the worst - another loss. In my defense I was literally half a second behind. Totally worth the fascinated looks from all bystanders. The night went on from there as you could imagine. Needless to say, Samantha is sooooo grounded until Wednesday.

and we're off

Buckfasting Part II

The Buckfast epidemic is spreading like herpes during Spring Break in Daytona Beach. New to the team is Miss. Jennifer Van Kuren, and Officer Emmet. If I spent the time to fill you in on Emmet and his unique form of advise as the NUI Galway Education Officer, but more importantly as my international life coach, I would miss out on all the fun. To cliffnote the man based on the text Maire just received:

"Buckfast gets you ****ed fast"

Feeling the hangover already.