Redneck Children Who Eat Pizza for Breakfast

Nothing terribly huge to report, but it's been about a week since my last post and I have awhile before I have to be anywhere, so I figured I might as well update this sucka.

I continue to be amazed at the immense difference in lifestyle between Galway and New York City. Scratch that. The immense difference in lifestyle between Galway and ANYWHERE IN AMERICA. For instance, the other night, at about 9 p.m., someone knocked on our door. We weren't expecting anyone, and I could see through our door's mottled glass that the person on the other side was not someone I knew. My first instinct was, "Well, OBVIOUSLY this man is here to rob us. There is obviously no other logical conclusion. He clearly has a gun or a knife, and as soon as I open the door, he is going to threaten me and then take everything of value that is in this house." I scampered up the stairs and was planning on staying there until he went away. (SEE: The Cherry debacle of 741 N. Eddy St, approx 2008-2009.) I mean, right? That's safety rule #1 - NEVER OPEN THE DOOR IF IT'S NIGHT AND YOU DON'T KNOW THE PERSON ON THE OTHER SIDE.

My roommate Siobhan, on the other hand, is still downstairs. I'm assuming she'll cower in the living room until the man gives up and leaves. What, instead, is Siobhan's reaction? SHE OPENS THE DOOR. I'm upstairs thinking, "God! What is she doing! Why would she open the door for this man? Is she crazy?" I crept to the top of the stairs to listen to their conversation to see if I needed to start googling the Irish equivalent of 911.

Old man just wanted to know if we knew where his buddy lived. He gave us the guy's name (we didn't know where he lived, incidentally) and a long, rambling story about how he left his glasses at his buddy's store but he doesn't know where the guy lives and his store is closed and he can't see without his glasses, y'know, because he's farsighted... omg. I almost died from relief. I wanted to hug that old man for not being Cherry.

(for non-Notre Dame alum readers, Cherry was a...neighborhood friend who knocked on our front door incessantly senior year looking for anything from money to a ride somewhere to... I can't remember what else she asked for. She instilled a great deal of fear of strangers in me, however. That's pretty much her biggest lasting contribution. Oh, also she once jumped in front of my moving car and scared the living daylights out of me. She wanted to use my cell phone that time.)

Anyway. Moving on. Yesterday was Arthur's Day, which is a made-up holiday in Ireland. Who made it up, you ask? Why, Guinness made it up! In America, Hallmark makes up the holidays and we get crap like Valentine's Day. In Ireland, GUINNESS makes up the holidays and we get a holiday where at 17:59 (Ireland is on military time, so 5:59) everyone is meant to have a pint of Guinness and everyone holds up their pint in the pub and simultaneously shouts, "TO ARTHUR!" Arthur was the founder of Guinness, and the brewery was founded in 1759 (hence the 17:59 time). It was a great deal of fun. I went with people from my class and Annemarie, and what started as one pint stretched into the entire evening. It was sort of the first time I've been out with people from my class, so it was really good to hang out when we weren't talking about modernization theory and representations of blackness. Nice change of pace.

During a conversation with my roommates, Rebecca said something that I personally believe to be one of the funniest things I have ever heard. I have tried to re-tell the story and it wasn't received terribly well, so maybe you had to be there, but I'll give it one last shot. I was recounting a story where, earlier in the day, my professor had said (in the context of the reading, this made sense): "Now, do my American friends know what ewes are?" I paused, thinking this was a trick question, then said uncertainly, "A... a female sheep, right?" He nodded assent and said, "Forgive me, but once I saw this television programme where some chef went in front of a schoolroom of American children and held up a potato, and not a single child knew what it was." I was mildly insulted for two reasons: 1) I should hope he thinks I'm more intellectually advanced and worldly than a classroom full of elementary school children and 2) that's just a weird story.

so I came home and told my roommates this. Rebecca was cutting something, and she slammed her knife down and looked at me. "First of all, I SAW that programme! It was Jamie Oliver, and it wasn't a potato, it was a TOMATO!"

Me: Well... in all honesty, I'm not sure that's too much better.

Rebecca: Well, whatever. But the point is, that was a schoolroom full of redneck children who had eaten pizza for breakfast! (she pointed the knife at me) Are YOU a redneck child who's eaten pizza for breakfast??

It may not sound funny now, but trust me, it was. I hope somehow someone found that funny.

Love and miss all of you!

Molly