And One For Ivan
This morning, Will and I went to a supermarket, Tesco, to pick up groceries for breakfast and dinner. For breakfast, we made scrambled eggs with red bell peppers, potatoes, onions, cheese (shaved mozzarella and cheddar from a sack), and seasoning. I had 5 eggs, Will had 3. At breakfast, we met a guy in the basement of the hostel named Jacques.
Jacques was a self-described “French black man” from Paris with a very heavy accent. He was thin, tall, and had a goatee. He was hilarious. He was bleary eyed from three days of partying and driving with no sleep. He was near the end of a long and promiscuous trip. He complained that he only had one condom left, down from his original 12.
While drinking a nip of Smirnoff to chase away his headache, Jacques regaled us with his tales of carnal conquering. He told us a graphic tale about some Californian girl he met at a bar who dragged him off to his car. The highlight of the story was when he described the scene in the car. His storytelling was laden with ass-slapping motions and thrusting. Mind you, this is all with his crazy accent. “Best sex I have had! ….on this trip. She was crazy!”
Jacques also told another story that I will do my very best to recount exactly as he told it:
“I was sleeping in my bed, the lower bunk, and I woke up at like 4am. I saw some brown hair falling down from above me. I was still drunk, so I was like, ‘whatever,’ and went back to sleep. I woke up again at about 6am and I saw this hair again. I got up and I looked at this girl, very hot, and I asked her if I could play some music. She said ‘Yes, I am a dancer! I would love music.’ She was American, from Massachusetts. She then told me that she hurt her ankle, so I said, ‘Oh no, that’s so bad’ [Jacques makes fondling motions with his lips close to his hands]. Then I started moving up her leg [Jacques uses his hands to mime] and she was not minding this [Jacques grins wickedly]. She was only wearing a thong under her blanket!
“She says, ‘It is my birthday!’ Oh, then we must celebrate, I said! I took her out to this lunch place, very sexy music. I then took her to the bar, bought her a few drinks, and we went back to the hostel. I see that there is another person asleep in our dorm now, so I am like ‘Fuck.’ But she does not care! She just took off her clothes and said, ‘Get that black cock inside me!’ So you know, I did [Jacques makes thrusting motions…again. He did this frequently in our conversation.]! She is screaming and crying, so the next morning, the guy says he thought I was raping her. ‘I was not raping her, I was loving her,’ I said! C’est bien!”
All of Jacques stories were like this. Throughout the conversation, Jacques frequently insinuated that American women were easy, crazy, and good in bed. However, Jacques did not like Irish women. He said, “Irish girls, they are sluts! They are fat, and they drink too much! Do you want one to vomit on your cock? No!”
There was also this weird Indian dude who looked like he was stoned or high on something funky that kept talking about drinking and “seeing some chicks, yeah?” in the hostel basement. Obviously, Will and I had an interesting morning.
After breakfast, Will and I went to the Dublin National Museum of Natural History. We saw all sorts of things like wombats and otters. According to someone I know who worked at an aquarium, otters often fellate themselves and make the lives of aquarium employees difficult when children ask questions (*the more you know*).
Next, we went to the National Museum’s Archaeology museum. There were awesome things there, like Vikings, epic claymores, and peat zombies. There were a LOT of peat zombies.
Finally, we decided to go to the Guinness Brewery. We got lost as hell trying to find it, and we ended up getting there one (1) minute before the last tickets were sold. Will’s shoe was falling off, we were running, it was crazy. Whew! The brewery was pretty cool, but I didn’t appreciate it as much as some people (KELSEY FLYNN) would have. I didn’t even really appreciate the free pint of Guinness, fresh from the brewery. Will said it was the best Guinness he ever had. In fact, it was so good that even I thought it was drinkable. Smooth as all hell. Will thinks it was probably so good because it was flavored with Kelsey’s salty tears! I agree whole-heartedly. During the tour, we sent Kelsey taunting e-mails using a machine and sent John McInnis a discount for the tour. We couldn’t figure out if his e-mail address was Johnathan or Jonathan, so we sent it to both.
Andy Lost in the Beer Forest
We made ghetto Mac & Cheese for dinner. We had shell pasta from Tesco that we put the leftover cheese on. In the hostel’s kitchen was a weird hippie chick from Saskatchewan (spelling?), Canada who thought we could cure ourselves of any disease using just our minds. She was cute, but she was crazy. There was also a really cool guy from California and a weird Irish-Indian dude who loved to party.
As a side note, the pedestrian traffic signals are weird here. When it’s time to walk, there’s a laser sound (“PEWWW”) followed by a weird pulsating beep-thing? I’m not really sure how to describe it. People drive on the wrong side of the road here, but there’s an upside. On each curb, there is painted text that says “look left” or “look right” with an arrow. This prevents me from getting hit by a bus.
Will’s Corner
Eat it, Kelsey!
Dear Joe,
Don’t worry, one more won’t kill you.
Love,
Will and Andy
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