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Published: November 14th 2008
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The Dog Races
Brelly's at the doggy races From now on, when your girlfriend talks shit to you or won't stop bugging you just say the simple phrase,
"Shut up that honky voodoo."
We went to the Galway races yesterday. Though i didn't drink, i missed the Liverpool vs Chelsea match and Tara tried to poison me with a hot meat sandwhich (it's not a sexual thing, it's actually a dry meat, cabbage and butter sandwich), i still had a blast. It's funny to me how dressed up some people get to watch horses run around and circles and how angry people get over it all. I'm sure some of them had to go home and tell their wives they wouldn't be eating for the next week. My immaturity didn't get ahold of my wallet. I didn't bet on any horses and it was probably a good thing because all i did was bet on horses with Star Wars or perverted names. I wouldn't have won a damn thing. Twice my horse didn't even finish the race. The horse races here are kinda stupid to bet on her anyway because they all start in a pen and then the announcer says go and they all run out of
the pen in any old ridiculous order. In every race the horse that went out of the pen first won. There's no logic to it. People should've just built a bonfire in the parking lot, thrown their money in and gone home.
November is, "Month of the Holy Souls and Whistle." It's like the Irish lent, and many people give up drinking and the bars become thin of story telling old men. It's said that when you walk home at night, you're stepping on the souls of the departed, so to avoid any trouble with them, you whistle the whole way home. I'm not a religious man, but i found myself whistling from time to time on those short, cold, and foggy nights.
I originally started this journey proclaiming that Redbreast was the best whiskey on the market and Guinness was the best delicious beer to consume here. As i depart, i have changed my mind. Here our official findings after numerous case studies and research.
Best Whiskey: Jameson Chrested Ten
Best Beer: The Special (smithwicks with a guiness head)
Best Food: Any carvery that has 3-4 different graveys to choose from.
Best Place to Make Out:
The Horse Races
Run you fucking horse or i'll send you to the glue factory Anywhere dry
See Ya Later Aligator
Our time in Galway has come to an end way to soon. This was the first place I have ever moved to, including the time I moved back to Chico, where I wasn’t home sick at all, but tafter two months of living here I think I am starting to get a little homesick. Tara and me did a good job of making Ireland home, I like my job and I love a lot of the people we’ve met, but I am longing for certain things like friends, foods and bar tips once again.
Having Cheryl and Shelly visit made it a bit easier and prolonged my missing home. I would say that there are a lot of goods and bads that exist both here and back home and more than likely the only place where it’s only good will be the one I create for myself where I land next. You can’t expect where you live to make you happy. I will not miss the sports and news insomnia I developed here. I can’t tell you how many times I watched the sun come up waiting on a Broncos,
The 2 Euro store
Just a step up from the Dollar Store Penn State or baseball games to end.
My final Irish slangs for everyone to slang
What’s the story? - How's it going?
Good crack. - Good fun.
Good man - Saying thank you man to man. You don't tell men thank you.
One thing I’ll never regret is staying up to watch the election. I’ll keep my thoughts on hopes with all of that to myself cause I definitely feel better, but I’m pretty sure we’re all still fucked. It was nice having people in Ireland stop and tell us congradulations for Obama winning. An old man even stopped his cab to do so. It’s amazing how so many people from Galway to Dublin to Belfast to Paris are so fucking happy that George Bush is gone, I can’t put into words the damage that man and his goon squad caused. I can also say that i have the best traveling partner and couldn't ask for more from her. We're officially American's Abroad, 65 days through Europe, living on trains, cheese, and love.
After a while crocodile
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