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.

Buckfasting

Similar to my relationship with SAT Prep, piano lessons, and MMA, I came dangerously close to ending things with this blog. I could blame the bull shit internet in our apartment or my "hectic" schedule, but really I've just been lazy. In the time since I last blogged I am pleased to report that there has been a new element in my Irish life - rugby. Unlike the dollar, the absolute joy of peanut butter and jelly, and FCC regulations (stand by for details) that fail to translate here the same way it does at home, somethings never change even when the time zone does. That is the fact that no matter what I do I get my ass handed to me in rugby - on the field and at the pub. After a few months of having (almost) the beach worthy legs of any other twenty year old girl, I can once again relate my current physical condition to Hillary Swank in Million Dollar Baby (which is frustrating since I came here aiming to be her in P.S. I Love You).

On that note, despite my extensive pre-departure research on how to find an Irish husband via multiple views of P.S. I Love You and Leap Year, it took one month of failure, field study, and an abroad viewing of Gerard at his finest for us to realize we were going about this all wrong.

(J.Gelson's Comcast Bill)

 We decided to learn from Ms. Swank and put away our heels, Druid Celtic Ciders, and clubbing ways then replacing them with new rules:
1. Get lost in a park, or other forms of Irish culture
2. Wear bright clothing
3. Be Sober.
I'll keep you posted.


I wrote all of the above about 45 minutes ago. In that time Kelsey reported to 302 in order to go on our standard procedure journey to Spars for our pre-pub Druids. As I stared down at the 6% Celtic goodness I held in my hands, I had an epiphany. All the conversation points of the day began to flood into my head simultaneously:
"It's our 1 month anniversary in Ireland" "What happened to when we went hard every night 10 on and 1 off?" "We need to get back to our old ways" "Princess Peach misses Samantha"


Me: Kelsey...put back the Druids
Kelsey: Wait, you mean...Buckfast?
Me: Absofuckinlutely


From the look in my eye, the Princess Peach inside of her knew exactly what I wanted. As we rode the Niland House elevator back to my room with the Irish Four Loko hidden in our coats, I was overtaken by a combination of anxiety and excitement like it was the first day of college. Another attribute of this fear could be credited to the potentially schizophrenic homeless man drinking what appeared to be a Buckfast outside of the Galway Tours office today (where we booked a Cliffs of Moher trip for tomorrow which is obviously being pushed back to Sunday). In order for this excitement and fear to be fully understood, it should be known that Buckfast is a Red Tonic Wine made by monks (therefore clearly a trustworthy beverage in the eyes of God) which is 15% alcohol and has 55 mg of Caffeine. It is these facts combined with the many other reports we have heard from experienced Buckfasters, and our naturally reckless personalities, that can be blamed for why it took us so long to experience the drink that is commonly found lining Shop Street either empty or broken. Needless to say, the plan proposed in the first portion of this blog has been officially vetoed. Like any responsible, well-educated young lady, I confronted a credible source to act as a critic of the bottled black-out before taking the journey. UrbanDictionary.com states:


1.) Also known as 'Tonic Wine'. The word 'tonic', however, "does not imply health giving or medicinal properties. In fact, the high caffiene & mineral content generally gives the consumer an unparalleled ability to start fights" 
2.) The best alcoholic drink ever invented.a rich red,almost black wine, made by the wonderful benedictine monks.has many added chemicals such as sodium glycerophosphate and the ever more lovely vanillin.
3.) An energy drink mixed with fortified wine, sold only in the most budget of newsagents. gets you another kind of drunk, like an animal. {my favorite so far}
4.) Heavy consumption of this sweet wine was linked to the poor success of the team in the post World Cup era, however as the teams star is in the ascendency again, so too is the level of buckie being bought to fuel the sensless hedonism and optimism
5.) Cat piss and battery acid mixed together and called an alcoholic beverage.

On that note, bottoms up. Pray for us.

Kelsey Kalberer

i don't know whether to be really amped or really petrified about the events to come tonight.

6 minutes ago