Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Enter: Samantha
Current View Point: The seven foot high sign Kelsey and I stole from god knows what pub/tea room. Status? D8. Not going to lie, my life here has been rather Kosher. I can't help but enjoy the sentimental aspects of Galway life so much that nothing I do is remotely worth reading. I could write about the beauty of the Galway Bay or of how much I love my classes, but I finally realize that those are elements in my foreign life that few would want to follow up on. Alas, in the midst of my belief that my blog is doomed to failure, I met a girl tonight who has permitted me to dedicate my otherwise boring blog to her. Samantha. She clearly has no shame and upon hearing of my otherwise failing blogspot due to my lack of entertaining anecdotes told me that I could use her as a protagonist in future blogging ventures. From here on out, I determine my autobiography as a biography of her and her antics. Considering most of my readers are most curious in my Galway life as well as the life of the ambiguous and unpredictable Irish women I encounter, I will continue Memoirs of a Blackout: Irish Edition as a combination of both. My love of the benevolent Irish lifestyle, as well as the stories of my new Irish friend, Samantha. Finally, stories that feed me the fuel I need to continue. To Samantha. Cheers.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Getting My Church On
Blackberry Messenger
Shann (6:21pm): Hi Daddy! Remind me to take you to the market on Saturday when you visit. Love you miss you!
Daddy (10:38pm): Okay! We will do it. Be safe and be a lady! xx daddy
It's not a good sign when even your father has to remind you to act like a lady via BBM over an ocean. As is typical in my life I chose to diverge from the plan my loving republican father laid out for me. Needless to say being a lady... epic fail. I woke up feeling extremely guilty for not living up to the very reasonable standards of the man who has done nothing but emotionally and financially support my Irish endeavors. It was 11 am, 3 hours earlier than my usual wake up time in Galway. The doorbell/obnoxious buzzer was going off as the girls down the hall followed through with their promise to wake Maire up for church. Note this was her facebook status as of 4 am this morning:
I love you too. As she stumbled about the room getting dressed for the occasion something in my head went off. Church! Yes! Ladies go to church! Papa John would be so proud. At this revelation I fell out of bed, which was obviously not my original intention but it happened, and scrambled for some classy church clothes. I was never more pumped up for church in my life.
Me: Maire, something is telling me I should go to church.
Maire: Yeah Shan, it's called shame.
Me: Fair enough. I'm coming. Let's do the damn thing. (Probably not the best church reference, but I had good intentions)
Appropriate dress? Check. Pearls? Check. Dignity? Hense church people. By 11:30 am, aka the time we believed church began, the two of us headed down to Kevin's room. Kevin is another Canicius (note: learn to spell name of roommates college) student who we have yet to find something wrong with. Most importantly he is an ideal wingman and heart-to-heart partner. He was still in bed. After informing us that "the time to leave for church is after it begins, just as long as we're there for the snacks" and freaking out about having pulp in his oj because food and drinks shouldn't be combined, we finally headed to church.
11:43am Arrive at church.
11:44am Realize church began at 11:15am.
We stand in the back awkwardly after Maire accidentally slammed the gazillion pound Cathedral door behind us. Next to us was a guy, late 20s, and a 2 year old boy. This caught my attention instantly since I recently decided that child-snatching an Irish nugget was very high on my to-do this. Little did I know that inside the Galway Cathedral was Satan's son. The little bugger was kicking this man's ass, and he was brilliant in his strategic abuse. He pulled the man's neck, slapped him in the face, and had a better punch than 99% of my friends. I would definitely want him on my side of a fight. He would wave his left first in the air and once the man looked at it - BAM right hook. This went on for a while until the pint-sized demon snuggled up like an angel as lovingly as a child could be. I was so relieved. Although creepy, I felt like this gesture was something I could stare at without making the man embarrassed. He then sat up in the man's arms and looked at him lovingly as if he was going in for a kiss and BOOM! Right hook so hard it made a sound the priest could have heard. We lost it. Right then and there. No control. I always thought the funniest thing little kids could do is fall down ( Awful, I know. But you can't judge me because I guarantee you didn't go to church today). At this point everyone was staring at us as we fought to contain ourselves. I suck at church. We quickly had our snacks and bolted. Church Round 1...epic fail.
Shann (6:21pm): Hi Daddy! Remind me to take you to the market on Saturday when you visit. Love you miss you!
Daddy (10:38pm): Okay! We will do it. Be safe and be a lady! xx daddy
It's not a good sign when even your father has to remind you to act like a lady via BBM over an ocean. As is typical in my life I chose to diverge from the plan my loving republican father laid out for me. Needless to say being a lady... epic fail. I woke up feeling extremely guilty for not living up to the very reasonable standards of the man who has done nothing but emotionally and financially support my Irish endeavors. It was 11 am, 3 hours earlier than my usual wake up time in Galway. The doorbell/obnoxious buzzer was going off as the girls down the hall followed through with their promise to wake Maire up for church. Note this was her facebook status as of 4 am this morning:
I love you too. As she stumbled about the room getting dressed for the occasion something in my head went off. Church! Yes! Ladies go to church! Papa John would be so proud. At this revelation I fell out of bed, which was obviously not my original intention but it happened, and scrambled for some classy church clothes. I was never more pumped up for church in my life.
Me: Maire, something is telling me I should go to church.
Maire: Yeah Shan, it's called shame.
Me: Fair enough. I'm coming. Let's do the damn thing. (Probably not the best church reference, but I had good intentions)
Appropriate dress? Check. Pearls? Check. Dignity? Hense church people. By 11:30 am, aka the time we believed church began, the two of us headed down to Kevin's room. Kevin is another Canicius (note: learn to spell name of roommates college) student who we have yet to find something wrong with. Most importantly he is an ideal wingman and heart-to-heart partner. He was still in bed. After informing us that "the time to leave for church is after it begins, just as long as we're there for the snacks" and freaking out about having pulp in his oj because food and drinks shouldn't be combined, we finally headed to church.
11:43am Arrive at church.
11:44am Realize church began at 11:15am.
We stand in the back awkwardly after Maire accidentally slammed the gazillion pound Cathedral door behind us. Next to us was a guy, late 20s, and a 2 year old boy. This caught my attention instantly since I recently decided that child-snatching an Irish nugget was very high on my to-do this. Little did I know that inside the Galway Cathedral was Satan's son. The little bugger was kicking this man's ass, and he was brilliant in his strategic abuse. He pulled the man's neck, slapped him in the face, and had a better punch than 99% of my friends. I would definitely want him on my side of a fight. He would wave his left first in the air and once the man looked at it - BAM right hook. This went on for a while until the pint-sized demon snuggled up like an angel as lovingly as a child could be. I was so relieved. Although creepy, I felt like this gesture was something I could stare at without making the man embarrassed. He then sat up in the man's arms and looked at him lovingly as if he was going in for a kiss and BOOM! Right hook so hard it made a sound the priest could have heard. We lost it. Right then and there. No control. I always thought the funniest thing little kids could do is fall down ( Awful, I know. But you can't judge me because I guarantee you didn't go to church today). At this point everyone was staring at us as we fought to contain ourselves. I suck at church. We quickly had our snacks and bolted. Church Round 1...epic fail.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Maire!?!?!
MAIRE WHERE ARE YOU!!?! Haha its your roomies Shann and Jen and we miss you but are proud of you. I promise to make you good-morning-eggs
Epic Fail
I guess 1 of 11 nights not being amazing is not too bad of a ratio. However, we still managed to have fun. Even though Sonny's Front Door didn't treat us with the same grace that it usually does we came home adn jammed hard on the apartment table to Lil Jon and Wu Tang. mahah videos to come. Still, we have to save up for our hard core night tomorrow. I can not wait. Here we come Keywest.
Welcome to the Universe Ophiuchus
In the midst of my compliance with Rule #6, it was brought to my attention that the people possessing the credentials to define astrology have added a new sign to the mix, Ophiuchus. This new friend to all the other signs is not only a nuisance by being near impossible to pronounce, but also because this little shit had the audacity to move around all the other signs. I went from being a proud Pisces to a confused Aquarius. This totally explains why none of my relationships have worked out considering dailyhoroscopes.com and birthday posting on facebook have been the central mechanisms of advice. I can only wonder if some form of hypocondriatic neurological disorder will form for those who lost their sense of identity due to this drastic change in mystical and potentially bull shit belief system. A system I have been a huge fan of since Gabby and I had a book of astrology to use as a form of distraction from creepy Mr. Fitz in 7th grade gym class. "Squats everyone!" yeah you would want that wouldn't you ya perv. Any who, with this new information I can't help but laugh at all the morons who got their sign tattooed on them. That's what you get for lacking originality brainiacks. Okay this has officially kept me away from two games and as much as I enjoy employing Christine as my "assistant" in kings by having her manage my cards and instruct me on what actions to take, I fear I must get back to living this Irish life and not just being a blog nerd. PEACEEEEE
The 10 Commandments
As wreckless and boundary-free as we have been thus far, we have come to realize that a set of guidelines may be in order. Not in the sense that consequences will result if someone fails to comply, but definitely endless ridicule. While some are more valued than others, they are all none-the-less the laws of the Niland house. Here they are (note this is a rough draft and susceptible to amendments)
*Rule #1: Finish your Drink.
We're in Ireland people. There are sober kids in India. Don't be that a-hole.
*Rule #2: ** ***** ** ****
*Rule #3: No Americanos.
Not the drink that is more popular here than at home, ironically, the fellow Yanks that we encounter. We have had our fair share of them at home. Failure to comply with this rule is an opportunity cost to the grand scheme (finding a nice Irish husband and never coming home.) <- Someone should have told Kelsey that this rule is not appropriate pillow talk sooner.
Rule #4: Never deny a friend in need of a bathroom buddy.
Some crazy stuff goes down in there, and going in alone has no guarantees of survival.
Rule #5: Every man for themselves in the morning.
Yes Christine, I get it. The Irish are great snugglers. But if given the opportunity to escape from an awkward AM encounter...TAKE IT. P.S. This should be done before noon or wifed-up jokes will presume.
Rule #6: Always Pregame.
Never play a sport until you stretch, never go out unless you pre-game. It will save you a ton of money not to mention it will warm you up before walking outside in the cold.
Rule #7: Say "yes" to fun.
This is actually Rule #7 in the NUI Galway student handbook.
Rule #8: No Whining.
There is nothing like a negative attitude to ruin the night. This rule was instituted after the wahmbulance ran over Kelsey and Christine who can't handle a short walk to College Bar. Amateurs.
Rule #9: Share your Smokes.
A friend in need is a friend indeed.
Rule #10: CANADA! CANADA! CANADA!
aka Code Red get me away from him.
*Rule #1: Finish your Drink.
We're in Ireland people. There are sober kids in India. Don't be that a-hole.
*Rule #2: ** ***** ** ****
*Rule #3: No Americanos.
Not the drink that is more popular here than at home, ironically, the fellow Yanks that we encounter. We have had our fair share of them at home. Failure to comply with this rule is an opportunity cost to the grand scheme (finding a nice Irish husband and never coming home.) <- Someone should have told Kelsey that this rule is not appropriate pillow talk sooner.
Rule #4: Never deny a friend in need of a bathroom buddy.
Some crazy stuff goes down in there, and going in alone has no guarantees of survival.
Rule #5: Every man for themselves in the morning.
Yes Christine, I get it. The Irish are great snugglers. But if given the opportunity to escape from an awkward AM encounter...TAKE IT. P.S. This should be done before noon or wifed-up jokes will presume.
Rule #6: Always Pregame.
Never play a sport until you stretch, never go out unless you pre-game. It will save you a ton of money not to mention it will warm you up before walking outside in the cold.
Rule #7: Say "yes" to fun.
This is actually Rule #7 in the NUI Galway student handbook.
Rule #8: No Whining.
There is nothing like a negative attitude to ruin the night. This rule was instituted after the wahmbulance ran over Kelsey and Christine who can't handle a short walk to College Bar. Amateurs.
Rule #9: Share your Smokes.
A friend in need is a friend indeed.
Rule #10: CANADA! CANADA! CANADA!
aka Code Red get me away from him.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Mama Gelson?
After many humorous events occurred this week I found myself as Mama Gelson. How in God's name did SJU's hot mess become this person to a random group in a foreign country? Who knows. But yes indeed I am mom here. I do what I can to keep my kids from making poor decisions or at least from dying in the land of beer. So with that I choose to live my title proudly as if all these little angels were my human Zoeys. So maybe I find dead baby jokes hilarious and okay maybe today at the mall in Eyre Square a man was walking through a door way with his kid on his shoulders and at the last millisecond ducked before the kid got wiped out and I died of laughter for 20 minutes at the thought that he missed that opportunity. I do what I can people. And if you ask Zoey Cooney or Tigger Gelson, I am hands down the best babysitter ever. I hope one day I get promoted to humans. But I'm not counting my days.
Ravaging the Riverside
Despite our love for pregaming in the infamous Niland House before venturing out to a pub then club, we decided to mix it up a bit tonight and take our Irish Ciders on the road. How could we possibly complain when our walk to school is on a river? With that, we gathered all our materials and ventured to College Bar for the evening. I mean shit, we have a bar on campus. If we failed to utilize this we may as well have just stayed home and watched E!. So once this plan to attend the College Bar was intact i promptly loved the Earth by recycling and filling my Pennies bag with Devil's Cider and headed off. Little did I know that Pennies chose the lesser quality brown bags and within five minutes my cans fell out across the path. My eco loving nature quickly responded and saved the man-over-board beverages only to find that we had a man down. Yes, one of them was leaking from the side. So what is a girl to do when one of her pregame cans is leaking and every ounce of alcohol may a well be gold? Simple. Shotgun. And shotgun I did. I refuse to describe the remainder of this night for fear or my followers but needless to say Princess Peach pulled a gun of her own and I got Adam Levine's autograph. This is a trend to be familiar with. Peace love and Guinness my friends.
M.I.A. Melissa
Captain Useless Student Handbook Information Provider aka Christine has just informed us that approximately 1 NUI Galway student dies a year in the shallow rivers and therefore we are all advised to stay AWAY from the many bodies of water surrounding Galway after nights of drinking. Advice that we have failed epically at following. Upon hearing this as I finished overly bedazzling my eyes with glitter (an addiction I can't break since NYE) I began to respond to this potentially useless information with the belief that "Well none of us get THAT drunk and unable to hold our liqu..shit...wait...where is Melissa?!" After factoring this new piece of information in with our observations of our lovable lightweights drinking habits thus far in our journey we all began to worry that Mel may become a part of this statistic. In addition, none of us have made contact with her since we left Pennies (Irish Target) early this afternoon. Panic. Currently googling leashes and life vests.
Mozel Tov M.Herb
Despite her plagiarism for stealing MY life novel's title "memoirs of a blackout" in her recent facebook album, I would like to wish a Miss Meghan Herb a happy 21st birthday. I am so sorry I won't be there to steal the thunder as drunkest party attendant and after failing to get into Webster Hall in NYC, promptly run away and take a train home at 1am...again. Bottoms up whore.
Week 1 Recap
So since my roomie and I are sitting here stalking Hannah's blog I figured I would make one as well. That and because a few people at home requested one (not sure for entertainment or confirmation of my survival.) To summarize how I feel about Ireland so far here is a blurb from my e-mail's with Kelly Horning our study abroad advisor:
sjgelson90: Hey Kelly! A few of the girls were wondering if you could send us the approved courses. However I was wondering if you could also send the transfer forms. Coming home is no longer an option.
khorning: Hi Shannon! Here is the course forms. I'm glad you're enjoying it!
sjgelson90: Kelly, the forms for transferring must have not attached on accident. Could you send it again?
khorning: Lol. I knew you would love Galway! (no attachment)
sjgelson90: Kelly...the forms...
The reasoning behind this is not only that NUI Galway makes Hawk Hill look like Summer Heights High, but also that the Guinness here makes America's taste like Nati Ice after we leave it in Deb's bushes for several months. Oh...and the boys are the sweetest baby angels Kelsey and I have ever seen. We're currently working harder on being groupies to a band we saw on the street, Keywest (keywestoffical.com) than we are on choosing classes. After putting in a significant effort in our web and facebook stalking, we finally found success when the drummer/bongo expert Eammon accepted my friend request. I would like to thank iPhoto editing and enhancement tools for what came next - the facebook chat invite to Friday's concert at Monroe's. Yes. I am finally one step closer to fulfilling my life calling of being the Penny Lane of Generation Y. Thank god I have a few days to prepare Kelsey (and myself) to not sound like an ESL student when the beyond-words-attractive basist Sam speaks to us. That and maybe get her a little more accustomed to Irish accents since she fails to understand them what so ever. This was proven in today's B-Line encounter with Senator Paddy. I'm entirely too far in need of a nap before tonight to expand on those details.
Team Samantha- Princess Peach
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