Sorry for Partying!

Wednesday, the 14th

It has been said that idiocracy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a new result.  Maybe this is why the lectures are consistently boring, I have gone to class everyday and actually sort of listened, expecting to get something out of it.  Screw that, workin on my essay in class…shit, I still fell asleep.  St.Patrick, you are among the few things I have found interesting in this class, but lets get real, your confession could put Greg Trapp to sleep without having to smoke…its boring, sorry man.

Whatever, this is the least of our problems, as Doug has discovered the Panini machini, its ok though, we took this as a chance to say one more final farewell to Fiona and move on for good.  After the break, Robert broke it down…like a boss…wrote some notes…like a boss…looked studly…like a boss…gelled his hair…like a boss. You get the point, everyone is slowly realizing why we like Robert so much…he is a close second to Rick Ross, The Boss.

Mom, I changed my sheets today, you would be proud.  After that I went to the library, again, that’s for you Mom.  Mom, read no further.  I checked out 8 books, then the libarby closed, today is another wasted essay writing opportunity…F^$k the library, we’ve got a hurling match to be drunk for.  Aaron, sorry, but the essay has to wait…when in Rome…do as the Irish would do…that’s the saying, right?  Sorry for Partying.

Three supposed “frat boys”, one fifth of Irish Whiskey, and 20 minutes…its obvious ladies and gentleman, we crushed it…bro.  Sorry for the language, but fuck the essay, how many times do you get to go to an Irish hurling match…ya, once.  We took a cab to the game, I was quite un-sober.  The cab driver definitely thinks Americans suck.  But we sat second row, and I am now thoroughly convinced that JK Rowling got the idea of Quidditch from hurling, but she added broom sticks and spells and shit…crafty woman.  How could I have forgotten, Jay bought us all British flag banana hammocks which we ran around the room with, of course, donning high white socks…sexual healing in a nut shell.  Back to the match, “Cark” lost.  I am proud to say I did make a shot with a quidditch/hurling stick in my first try after the game…Jay almost hit a baby…good job man.

We then walked a shit ton, I had some drunchies, and no, I did not eat my own leftovers, drunchy monsters, I ate fried chicken from “Hillbillies”…so Amurican.  After that, we went to An Brog, cool bar, second place to the bar in Dingle.  After a beer, Aaron, wearing a dirty mustache, convinced 6 ladies that Jay was a semi-pro surfer…this is after Jay was accused of being on an MTV show…congrats, youre famous for not even being famous.

Back from the bar, Aaron shaves the stache…claims that Kate would not approve.  Aaron, be more like Clint.  Night cap…Mare-Bear watch out…Devere Dog-pile…Mary angry…go sleep.