babble
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Back in the saddle again:
I know you are dying to know the details of my trip and I know I didn't satisfy any of your curiosity with that cryptic post yesterday because the only real fact I disclosed was that I drank a lot of Guinness, and you probably already knew I would do that. So here is a slightly more detailed recap of my trip. I will not give you blow-by-blow details because I think you would get bored reading "and then I had my 9th pint" over and over.
Last Monday I ran around doing a few last minute things like making bank deposits and packing an extra pair of underwear in my carry-on bag in case my suitcase got lost like that one time I went to Boston. Then I went to my friend's funeral, the details of which I will not go into because everyone knows funerals are sad so I don't need to tell you that. I went to the airport and got on the big green plane with a shamrock on it (no, I'm not kidding) and off I went.
I arrived on a lovely, clear, sunny Tuesday morning and dropped off my stuff at my hotel. I then immediately proceeded to go out and take photos of things around Dublin. I went back to the hotel for a couple of pints and a nap and when I woke up it was raining, so since I couldn't take any more photos I decided to drink some more, which continued when I met up with some friends later in the evening. They took me to the best pub in all existence, which only has heavy metal on the jukebox. Seriously. Best. Pub. Evar. \m/
Wednesday saw more rain and some hail, so I could only go out for about an hour and a half in the afternoon to take photos. Then it started pouring again so I proceeded to drink lots of Guinness and watch football on the telly (translation: soccer on TV).
On Thursday morning, my flight was cancelled because the airline was on strike, so I had to spend an extra day in Dublin, which was fine by me (more Guinness). I found a beautiful church and went to sit in it because old churches have a really amazing atmosphere and are very calming for me. Fortunately, I didn't burst into flames when I entered the church so I must not be as evil as I thought.
I arrived in England on Thursday night and stayed up late with my friend Emma gossiping. On Friday we went shopping in Manchester and I bought stuff because that's what you do on holiday. I decided that I really like the area where Emma lives and so I now have a genius plan to obtain several million dollars so I can buy houses there and here and just be a jet-setting mamma who summers in the English countryside.
On Saturday we went to a lovely old mansion and walked around the grounds and then Emma had a housewarming party. Of course, I drank loads of Guinness. I also answered everyone's questions about American culture, things to do in Los Angeles, Bush's foreign policy, and the Governator. I am happy to report that I convinced at least four people that not all Yanks are ignorant. Of course, I looked really fucking hot that night so I think that helped.
On Sunday Emma and her boyfriend Iain (who are ridiculously happy and in love, which normally would make me nauseous but I actually found it quite refreshing) and I recovered from the party by walking around the grounds of this beautiful, 200 acre park. I took a lot of photos of that but you will just have to wait to see them because not a single one is digital so you have to wait until I get them developed and scanned. Don't hold your breath because I am a lazy mofo.
On Monday we went to this town called Chester and walked around some Roman ruins and had some ridiculously expensive brunch. I was feeling a little bummed out, so I went to a camera shop and bought a nice new 500mm lens for my camera. Nothing cheers a girl up like retail therapy! Of course, I am not the average girl so my retail therapy usually involves cameras or electronic gadgets instead of clothes and makeup like most chicks, but whatever.
I flew home on Tuesday and was unfortunately seated next to a drunken 70 year old man who not only kept drinking tons of booze during the flight, but kept spilling wine on himself and farting. He also wouldn't get up to let me out when I needed to go to the restroom and made me climb over him. I swear to Christ, if I get like that when I am old any of you have my explicit permission to shoot me in the face.
Now that I am home after flying through the disturbing amount of smoke generated by the fires surrounding Los Angeles, I realized that I really didn't spend enough time in England so I am going to have to go back more often. So, anyone who feels like donating to the "Kathleen's frequent trips overseas" fund, please let me know. The rest of you can just sit back and wait for me to stop talking about my trip and return to my regularly scheduled programming of misanthropic hilarity.
P.S. Tonight I'm co-hosting the Los Angeles National Novel Writing Month kick-off party. This is roughly akin to herding drunken cats. Wish me luck!
babbled by Kat @ 8:40:00 AM |
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