Don't Hit My Friend

Sunday, the 25^th

            “I had a weird dream that someone was kissing my neck,” says Aaron.  Jay seems unsurprised.  I slept on the couch…WTF.  Not important though.  Stop thinking about it, jeez.  The night before we agreed to wake up and rent bikes…this morning we agreed that last night we were drunk and making bad plans…no bike ride.  The lazy Galwayians don’t open their bike shops on Sunday anyway.  Now we don’t feel guilty about avoiding exercise, situation diverted.  Skip bikes, lets just go back to Cork…luckily we caught the express bus.  Diana, this time we decided to stay in Limerick for an hour…this time I knew the times!  Next time we travel together, you call the shots though…I barely trusted myself as I glanced over the time table fifty four times just to check.

            What is really cool to do in Limerick on a Sunday.  Well, the castle tour is 10 Euro, most stores are closed, restaurants are locked up…lets do what any good American citizen would do with their spare change…gamble it away!  With 4 euros and Aarons 2-peso coin, we bet the barn…lost it all.  When in Rome.  We hopped on the next bus back to Cork…walked from the bus station to Broke-field, cooked another dinner, and headed off the the Bailey for a birthday celebration.

            In my notes, I have “vodka bottle from Kylie”, “hammered” and “boat race pints at bar.”  I’ll do my best to piece together this brain buster but here it goes.  Kylie likely donated her half bottle of vodka and the wolf-pack took a few fratty pulls out of the bottle and “crushed that sh*t”  Next, in a non-sober state, stumbled to the bar, at which we chugged pints of Coors Light…Amurica…now I remember why we were so drunk that night…it all makes sense now.

            2 things I do remember…Josh spilled a wolf-pack beer, but Mr. White Russian knows the man-code, and he replaced it.  #2 creeped on all the UCC girls, we told him to chill it.  A good story ensues but you may need to contact me in private.  The only quote I will give is “I have 40 pounds on you, do you still wanna do this?” 

            After this mystery event, we realized that our pain tolerances were pretty high, and had a spiratic boxing match for the next two hours at the apartment.  Each time I hit Aaron, Jay yells, “Don’t hit my friend,” and punches me. Each time Jay hits me, Aaron yells, “Don’t hit my friend,” and punches Jay.  Each time Aaron hit Jay, I yell, “Don’t hit my friend,” and punch Aaron.  You get the point…a kidney shot and a few too many punches later, we all pass out…so fratty.