Quick and Dirty…That’s How We Do It

Friday, the 16^th

Happy birthday, Chris (my brother)

            “Fu*k off,” is the first thing Zeke says to me today…wow man, rude!  All I said was, “Zeke, you’re fifteen seconds late (which, let’s be honest, the big-ass red clock said 9:00:15 and class started at 9:00:00…take it back Zeke).  Anyways Zeke…in un-Devere Scholar fashion, Jay and I showed up to the classroom at 8:4o. In Devere Scholar fashion…Aaron and Mary were not in attendance…way to keep the image alive!  Suck it test, I finished you in 30 minutes with super messy handwriting…quick and dirty…that’s how we do it (not a sex joke…I think).  Anyway, after class, Jay and I book a round of golf for the Blarney Golf Resort…Devere Scholars order of importance…golf > school.

            While it pains me to even waste text, blog space, and energy to write this, it must be mentioned that there is someone on this trip we dislike…he/she will remain unnamed…but if you read this, take a clue…TURN DOWN YOUR DAMN VOLUME, YOU YELL WHEN YOU TALK, ARE SUPER ANNOYING, AND WE CRINGE WHEN YOU SPEAK…sorry, I just has to blow off some steam.

            After booking golf, Jay and I walked to pick up my laundry, passing St. Fin Barre’s Cathedral, pretty cool, huge church with scary faces on it…I successfully convinced Jay it was t Jewish temple, sorry man, I was kidding.  Call me crazy but I don’t think the Jews have patron saints.  When we got back, we planned a trip to Kinsale…but it was more like a Kin…nap.  We fell asleep, deciding to make the trek Sunday.

            We woke up, put on some perfume, and went out on a man-date to Scoozi…an Irish Olive Garden…not too shabby.  Aaron, sorry, you were getting your wedding on, so we felt, to keep the love in the air, that we must go on a man-date.  After the man-date, we took a man-walk, which we strolled by the river and possibly grazed hands…whoa whoa just kidding.  In order to make sure we stayed true to our word, we both stopped by the bus station and bought our Kinsale tickets for Sunday… (Euro sign) 9.50 please.

            From here on out, we flirted with fights for the rest of the night.

            Fight 1…Stephen knocks into huge-ass dude, spills maybe an ounce of beer, said huge-dude stares at Stephen like he wants to kick seven-shades of shit out of him…phew, he left.

            Fight 2…drunk man hits on 5 (attractive, very) Spanish girls…as we approached, Superman stepped in and saved them…damnit, that was gonna be our lead in, and possibly real fight #1.  O well, Jay saved the night by asking “Angelina Jolie” for her autograph…too bad the girl didn’t speak English and her friend translated the joke…whatever, they were smokers, and Jay’s line was hilarious, took cajones.

            Fight 3…at the Bailey, creepy man hits on girls from our class on the dance floor.  In my meanest stare possible (with my 4-eyes on), told the guy to “piss-off” in kinder words.  At this point, Jay and I were hoping to brawl, too bad the punk-bi*ch didn’t want to fight…I sound like such a bro-fag here, but whatever.

            Fight 4…strange Indian man does a little too much with his eyes and hands to another female class-mate.  This time, we exchange words, he puts his arm on my shoulder, I kindly ask him to remove it, stand up, and the creeper leaves…damn, Jay was at my back though.

            Enough with the bro-talk douche-baggery, the night at The Bailey was a blast.  There was live music…girls spilling martinis on each other…I bought Dan a shot…no homo…and we danced for a few hours.  Shout out to Mr. Johnson of BCP…Americans dance a lot dirtier than most…I think we scared the Irish people out there…sorry for partying…Lacey, watch your head.