Ireland, pt 7: The Festival? The Festival!

Not going to start singing that song from Into The Woods…not gonna, not gonna…

Now, where did we leave off? Oh, right.  So, the morning after the first day Tall Ships Festival, I woke up late (for once) and had eggs and yogurt for breakfast. Never woulda guessed I like yogurt, would you? The August session of Camp NaNoWriMo had just started—yes, NaNoWriMo takes up most of my life—so I got some writing done before we drove to a fort. I didn't take any notes on this, and I don't remember much about it. I'm finally seeing a downside to procrastination.

Later, we drove to a lighthouse (couldn't go up in it), and then climbed around some tide pools for a while. Or something. I'm purely working off the notes I took and my faulty little memories. One thing I do remember pretty clearly is one of the most hilarious-in-retrospect thing that happened on that vacation.

I was selling CDs for the band with Dean, and we had only sold one CD when a trio of 11-year-old boys came by and hassled us for a while. It was kind of hilarious. While it was happening I was just sitting there like, "S r s l y w h a t i s t h i s ?" but, come on, how many other people can say they've been mildly hassled by a trio of 11-year-old Irish boys while selling CDs? Very few, I'm sure.

Well, now I have to go "do" some "writing." Totally not sitting here, staring at a blank screen.


Watch out next time for a Very Special Post about the really freakin' weird dream I had. Or probably not. Most likely not.

You know, you never finished this. There's still days left that haven't been blogged about. Idiot.

No, Really, I'm Not Dead (Or: My Trip To Ireland: My Own Backyard)

So sorry for not updating you about my absolutely fantastic voyage across the sea. Okay, some parts were a bit less fantastic than others, like when I got lost at the park or being very very very bored at the Guinness Brewery, but some parts really were fantastic, like The Long Room at Trinity College and fresh cheese chips.

Which are French fries in the States, by the way. In case you didn't know. But now you do.

Be warned: This might be a very long post, especially if I decide to try to be funny.

Part one of my journey to the Emerald Isle actually took place in my own proverbial backyard.

Er, my old own proverbial backyard.

Unfortunately, there are no surviving pictures of this stage, so I'm just going to search up pictures on Google Images to illustrate the happenings.

After a four-hour drive and one strawnilla milkshake, I arrived on the doorstep of my awesome friend Emily, who I haven't seen in a while.

Actually, that looks a little bit like us. Just a little bit. Not at all, really.

We played Parcheesi with her brothers, made mini-pizzas, and hung out with our other friend Claire when she arrived. After Other Friend left, Emmers and I fell asleep on the sectional after watching Night at the Museum.

Lessee, what happened the day after that…

Oh, right. Wait, I forget. I remember we went shopping, but everything apart from that and the stuff between the pillow factory and the pirana breeding tank is kind of a blur. But I do remember that the next morning I had toast while watching TV, and then trundled off to the airport, where I spent a lot of time being bored out of my skull.

It wasn't quite that shiny.

We then flew to Newark with the rest of our group, and then spent several more hours sitting around. I ate a pretzel. Almost immediately after getting on the plane, I started messing with the screen and watched some movies. Dinner was better than roast beast compared to usual airplane food (that was a weird analogy…) and there were a lot of good movies. I watched Mythbusters, This Is Spinal Tap, and part of Cars before getting bored.

Before you ask, no, I did not get any sleep. I did listen to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, though.

That doll thing is staring at me…

Next time on Newfallen Mystery, Omnia monologs about sleep deprivation and explains what happened to her phone in the middle of laughing at peacocks. Claudia might put in an appearance.

Have I Mentioned That I Have A Cat Today?

Yeah, she's still here. I haven't accidently killed her, gone insane and murdered her, lost her, or sold her for iTunes cards.

"Good Lord."

Okay, that sounded really, really bad. Dark humor, people, I'll be here all week! Or until the Internet dies, whichever comes first!

I'm just going to try this again.

My cat is being a lovely little mollycoddle ("That word makes no sense in context, Omnia."), which here means "the silliest cat I have ever owned. For serious."

"No! It! Doesn't! It means to treat someone very indulgently or protectively, or, as a noun, an effeminate man or boy! Sometimes I think you say things just to spite me!"

Yup. Way to rawr, Claud.

Now that Claudia has curled up in the corner, sobbing over my word choice, I can go on with my post:

Salisbury--that's one of my nicknames for her. Salisbury. 'Cause, you know, her name's Sally. Other nicknames include Puddin', Cat-Cat, Sal, and Holy-Crap-How-Did-You-Do-That-?!

So, Sal's been--

You know what, I never actually planned any content for this post, so…

*end*

(Also, I cannot find my library card. This frightens and upsets me.)

(Also, here is something awesome. It's, like, funny. And stuff.