Whiskey + Beamish are not the essay writing elixirs they are believed to be

Thursday, the 15^th

            If I may recant the real ending to last night, please follow along.  Before going to bed (after the Devere Dog-pile) Aaron realizes that it is of utmost importance for him to finish his essay about St. Brigit (the miracle, but not really, lady).  So Jay and I leave him to work in peace…go sleep.

            Good morning Aaron, how late were you up writing the essay?  Well, it turns out Irish Whiskey + Beamish are not the essay writing elixirs they are believed to be…Aaron PTFO (passed the funk out [edited for you, Mom, sorry I swore in the previous post]).  His intro sentence was the same length it was on Wednesday…sorry Kate, but essay comes first…Aaron can sit in the back of the wedding with a laptop right? (For all of you fans out there, Aaron is leaving in thirty minutes to meet up with his girlfriend in Scotland to go to her cousin’s wedding…Aaron, you’re blowin’ it!!!)  Anyway, screw the essay, Aaron shaves his mustache and runs out the door.  Wolf-pack minus one; shed one manly tear and read on.

            Jay and I roll into class on time again, 5 minutes late, and sign in the entire wolf-pack…Aaron attended in spirit.  Today was really weird; I took notes on the entire lecture.  And no, it was not because the professor was a young PhD female in a skirt…although this was great motivation for Gabe.  In Irish talk, the lecture on the mistreatment of young children was grand (not the fact that children were mistreated, but the lecture on the children, Doug).  But of course, when push came to shove, Robert broke it down like a boss in the test review after the lecture…boy I aspire to be you Robert, you don’t even know.

            Post class, we hit up our new spot, the Kiwi Café, and the non-Fiona lady happily served us some “toasties” (Doug, it’s just a toasted sandwich, cool your jets).  Afterwards, Jay and I came back and began studying, weird, I know.  But it wouldn’t be a good night without some procrastination…so to compensate for taking my clothes to a full-service laundromat, I walked about 2 miles to get there…I think that evens out.

            Folks, the rest of the night blows, I had to write a 5-page essay on St. Patrick.  St. Patty, you’re the man and everyone gets shit-faced for your birthday/holiday/celebration, but essays on you do not bring the same joy to my heart…sorry.  I finished the essay, made some pasta…pasta for days…and studied a little more and went to sleep.  UCC…boner kill.