DAY 3: Oh fer facks sake

HURLING- a sport in America introduced by fraternal brothers after consuming    

    excessive amounts of alcoholic beverages.

HURLING- a sport in Ireland involving a soccer field, football goal posts, a baseball, a

field hockey stick and 15 boys that didn’t cut it in the Greek system. Stadiums packed with 80,000+ people, and these dudes don’t get paid- merely for the sake of "fun." Only in Ireland. Literally.

Did a little more castle hunting today in Durrow. Funny to see a warehouse next to a mall next to a cathedral next to a hotel next to a castle next to a pub. After about 3 hours of zigzagging across the country (yes that’s all it takes to get from the west coast to the east coast- like driving from Bozeman to Missoula, but with castles. And dragons.), we made it into the city of Dublin. Hello Guiness brewery. Hello Guiness beef stew. Hello genuis (and billionaire) that developed Guiness.

Checked into my hostel aka dorm room with 10 beds. I thought I told myself I'd jump off the Golden Gate before I had roommates OR lived in a dorm again. At least I have just one timid Portuguese nursing student instead of a Hello Kitty pussy posse. I'm not racist. It will probably fill up this weekend. And I'm certain laying on a piece of cardboard in the street would be more comfortable than this bed. All for 10 euros! Beggars can't be choosers.

Ran over to Trinity College before it closed to see THE BOOK OF KELLS!!!! The first illuminated manuscript ever made! I started having heart palpitations just walking in the door. I imagine it's like when R. Kelly met Miley Cyrus for the first time. But I didn't get the same warm sensation.... never mind. Anyway, it was a big fucking deal for me, to say the least. If I get this excited about a book, going to Italy might do me in and they'll have to send me home in a pretty wooden box.

I went to pay a visit to Andy Doyle at The Tram (college buddies partied down with him while they were here a few months ago). It took me an hour to get a mile. After a fight with the bus map, I took a cab. And I'm pretty sure Edmund was drunk because all I got was "tiger, helicopter and 8 euros Love," with a fit of laughter following each.  Andy bought me a beer and chatted me up and played fat'er for a second by telling me that if anyone touches me, don't think, just lift your knee up into his "noot seck."

Came back down town and took myself to a hole in the wall Indian restaurant. Chicken tandoori, chana pilau rice & a Bud for only 13 euros.... and I couldn't even finish. After stuffing my face I wandered around Temple Bar and found a stool at John Gogarty's. Half way through my Smithwicks, my gay-dar hit a 10 and up walks portly Alan (who ironically resembled Alan from "The Hangover"). It's uncanny that I attract more gays than straights. He pulled out his Dr. Evil Pinky that he couldn't keep out of his "mixed breed" fangs and gave me 18 or so ass-out hugs. And he stroked my shoulder every time he mentioned his ex, Kelly Ann. Guess who we talked about for an hour? "My fat'er told me don't go proposin' just so your mam can buy a new hat!" He asked me to be his wing man for the evening (for women- he doesn't know he's gay yet...) since I had apparently given him my un-fucking-available eyes. So he did his little Cher snap and we trotted out the door!

A few randoms:

-- Does every Irish fiddle player HAVE to look like James Dean? I mean really....

-- I think I should start pretending to be a food critique.

-- I will figure out these hot dogs on skates (busses) if it kills me.

-- Connolly goes way back... Owen Connallie- 1641

-- English football commentators are a SNOOZE.

-- Whitney + Directions = Oil + Water.

Until tomorrow...