Jack, My Housemate

Recently, I told my American housemates about my blog. I was informed that there was not enough detail included about my amazing housemates, specifically one Jack Philibert, who did the actual critiquing.


Jack is wonderful fellow, with a dry sense of humor and excellent taste in clothing. He goes to a smart kid school in Nebraska and is pre-med. (No Mom and Dad, I am not going to marry him.) Not only is he quite brilliant, he is frequently tolerant of Megan's and my antics, including cat sounds, shouting "Yeat!", random dance sessions, and girl talk. In addition to all of this, he is attractive and excessively polite, often reminding us girls to "not be so loud/American." A classy fellow indeed. Should probably be on the east coast somewhere, with a sweater around his neck and a glass of something fancy.

That's Jack and Megan, my lovely housies.

These facts being established, I may now tell you of our epic Couch War.

The set up of our living room is thus:
We have a long couch, a small couch, a chair, and two deceptively light-looking tables. In one corner is the tv. Across from the tv on the closest wall is the biggest couch with the best viewing spot. The short couch and the small chair are on the far wall, and provide a view of the tv that leaves something to be desired. For those of you with a more visual learning style, I have created the following text-diagram, where X = table.

TV                                     Sh
                                X       ort
                                          Co
                                          uch
         X
LongCouch                       Chair

Jack ALWAYS sits on the big couch while Megan and I ALWAYS sit on the small couch together. ALWAYS.

The other night, I decided I wanted to sit on the big couch.

This is a frequent conversation we have and it generally consists of variations on "But It's My Spot!!" and "You Don't Own The Couch! You Have To Share!"  the following two phrases being repeated over and over until I get bored or hungry, but this particular evening I was Feeling Sassy.

*Insert previously mentioned conversation, ending with something like "I'm going to sit here! There's room!"*
I sit on couch, a bit over the center line, but not close enough to be completely in Jack's bubble. He is still sitting in the best viewing spot, hence my getting as close as possible. We are eating dinner, so I cleverly angle the elbow of my fork wielding arm into his bubble, hoping to drive him away. (My egg sandwich needed a lot of dramatic cutting that night.)
*Death glare from Jack*
Jack lasts through most of my sandwich, then jumps up and leaves my immediate field of vision. I assume victory and lower my guard.

Mistake.

With the speed and agility of a viper, Jack switches the chair and the large couch, WITH ME STILL ON IT.

I don't know how I held on to my plate.

For revenge, I sit up in the edge of the couch arm and try to lean in to Jack's chair space with my plate while I finish my food, but not too close because he is wily and I am deeply suspicions that he may fling my plate away from him if I get too close.  Food > Vengeance

Seating now looks like this:
TV                                     Sh
                                X       ort
         X                              Co
                                          uch
        
            ChairLongCouch                      
I'm on the "L," Jack is cradled over the "a" and "i," which is precisely where the good spot on the long couch was previously located.
  

I finish my food and enact my counter strike. This consists of surprise ramming the big couch against Jack's chair repeatedly until it is in the corner and the big couch is nearly where it was.

Seating now looks like this:
TV                                     Sh
                                X       ort
         X                              Co
                                          uch
        
ChairLongCouch  
 
Unfortunately, I lack the stamina and strength to keep up the barrage, and Jack, smelling my weakness (or hearing me wail "I can't keep doing this!" and then lean on the couch gasping) pounces with a counter-counter reverse ram attack!

I hold out as long as I can, but am gradually driven back towards the corner. I can see that Jack is not going to stop ramming the couch until it is against the wall which I am currently standing against. To escape this unpleasant fate I clamber onto the couch arm and balance on my knees to get quickly out of the way. Insert squealing of "don't squish me don't squish me!" followed by "eeeek!" every time Jack hits the couch. At some point, I fell off the arm and landed on my face on the couch. Jack finally got the couch into the corner and then threw the nasty Floor Comforter over me, which induced more squealing and flailing of limbs. (Floor comforter has been sitting in the corner since previous entry about Irish Destructo-Bots)

Floor Comforter trumps all, and Jack Philibert has won this round.

Touche, Mr. Philibert, touche.

Sunday!

Happy Sunday Everyone!!

Today I was supposed to get work done, but instead I've decided to see how long I can go before I have to put on pants.

You all miss me tons, don't you?

Pictures and Stuff!!

Sadly delayed by my technical failures, here are some pictures from the first couple weeks here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiking_boots/sets/
And good luck navigating flickr, I find it rather useless, but more manageable then the other photo sharing websites. :P

Housemate Update: Still haven't talked to them much. They tend to hide out in their first floor lair, even preparing raw chicken in their bedrooms before bringing it up to cook. At some point will need to address the issue of Washing Dishes Within A Week of Using Them and also Washing Dishes BEFORE You Put Them Away which will be followed up by If You Don't Stop Eating My Food, I Will Murder You In Your Sleep Using The Empty Wrappers Of The Food You Ate, Likely The Babybel Cheese Waxes And GOD HELP YOU If You Get Into My Nutella.
If they prove to be uncooperative, I have leverage....

Hot Water Update: On between the hours of 6:30 AM and 8:30 AM, then again at 4:30 PM to 8:30 PM. Within those time slots, it is sporadic and ranges from warmish to scalding. I prefer scalding.

Class Updates: Mildly confusing schedule, first full week starting tomorrow. I have no Monday classes!! I feel like I am cheating the world.

Weather Update: Warm, Cold, Rainy, Windy, Dry, Sunny, Cloudy, Foggy

Clothing Update: There is A Lot of mud here.

Hair Update: Why oh Why did I get bangs before coming here????

Simon Update: Still completely off the radar. Planning on cornering International Club smooze-ball president and prying information. Would not normally be this stalky, but as it turns out, Simon is the only Irish male in our peer group that I have met who did not try to drunkenly molest me or reek of carrots. Should probably have bashed him over the head and dragged him back to Kilmurry when I had the chance...

Rage Against the Machine: How They Took the Hot Water and Gave Me Three Drunken Irish Destructo-Bots

For the first week of my time here, I had two clean Americans, an overactive boiler, and all the hot water and water pressure of home. Oh, what glorious days were those!

Four nights ago the heat quit working in Megan's and my rooms.

Three nights ago our three Irish housemates arrived.

Two nights ago the hot water and water pressure started getting iffy.

This morning at around 4 am, I awoke to the smell of burned bacon and all the lights in the house being on. I stumbled out of my room to see what was going on, silence pervaded. I get to the living room: No one is in there, the TV is still half on (weird Irish tv thing), there are two large blanket/mattress pads piled over the chair and one of the little tables, all of the furniture on one wall has been pulled out and left randomly. The ashtray is placed under on of the chairs. Inexplicably, the oven mit is in the corner behind the couch. I turn to the kitchen: All the appliances are OFF thank god, the table has been pushed to the wall and the chairs are placed randomly around, there is a piece of bacon on the floor, remnants of one of my babybel cheeses trailing to the living room, and our kitchen towel laid out on the ground as though it is covering a spill but gentle prodding with my slipper reveals nothing but burnt bacon crumbs.

If you would like to hear my theory on what went on last night, you may message me your email address and I will send you my version. I am not posting it here as the Destructo-Bots that have recently replaced my charming housemates may find it "offensive" and go Terminator on me.

Later this morning I have NO hot water and the magical maintenance men have replaced the control box in our boiler cupboard. I begin to suspect that the magical maintenance men are in fact evil robots like the Irish Destructo-Bots that have moved in with us. Hit the hot water "boost" button and nothing happened. Also deeply suspicious that button is just there to shut us frivolous Americans up about our fancy-shmancy TEMPERATURE CONTROL ON THE INDOOR PLUMBING!!!! Well, Ireland, I was in Alaska for three weeks camping, I can play this game. We will see who gets sick of smelling who first.

UPDATE: 12:12 noon

Destructo-Bots: Still in Standby mode, likely recharging for another night of alcohol fueled raging
Living room/Kitchen: A Pit
Water: Improved to "tepid"

Irish Charm Resistant. Or Not. At All.

Things I recall from our campus tour:

There is a library.

There is a big classroom building.

There are 3 on campus pubs.

You get to them using paths (not sure which ones)

Things I recall about our Tour Guide:


His name is Simon, he has reddish hair and blue green eyes, he is from somewhere I can't pronounce, he is on the rowing team (!!!!), he is a psychology and law major, he will be studying abroad in Cyprus next year, he visited the US once (NYC) and would like to go again, and I am fairly certain he is single.


Hmmmm..... This whole avoiding boys thing may be harder than I thought....

And I was doing so well! In full possession of my heart for three whole days!! Then last night, a different Irish Simon starts lilting at me and whoops! Gone!

Bonus Points For Erin:
I did not drool, stare, faint, propose marriage, throw myself at him too embarrassingly, or try to kidnap him.
I even walked away because I wanted to dance. 

I'm pretty impressed with myself.

We'll see how long that lasts.  :P

Why yes, the Guinness here is just as good as they say it is.

Best. Orientation. Ever.

In addition to all the boring and completely necessary topics such as registration and fire safety, we got educated on:

It's Not That We're Vulgar, We're Just Irish! - Apparently the Irish swear a lot. It's nothing personal. And I quote, "If we could say 'f**k' in the middle of a word, we would."Similarly, if someone exclaims "F**k Off!!" mid-conversation, they may just be expressing disbelief and surprise. Or they might be telling you to go away. Pay attention to inflection.

Vocabulary - a "fish slice" is a spatula, chips are french fries, crisps are chips, a chip dish is a deep fat fryer, and Irish crack is not American crack. Actually spelled "craic," it means "a good time" or "fun." So, if an Irish person approaches you and asks if you want some good crack (as they asked my friend Amanda) they are not offering you drugs, but asking if you want to have some fun.

Alcohol and Drug Use - "Don't try anything you wouldn't try at home.... Well, maybe don't do that either." The university recognizes that this is many American student's first experience with legal drinking. They have given us helpful safety tips and provide an emergency cab (not to be abused!!) so if you have lost your wallet and your way, you may call them and they will bring you back to UL free of charge. Yet another memorable quote: "It's ok if you don't drink. It's 'cool' to not drink. Although, even if you choose to not drink, do try to make your way down to the pub anyway. The pub is really the Irish Community Center."

In all seriousness, the UL staff was professional, helpful, and fully informative about all aspects of university life. I admire the way they did not "pull punches" so to speak as I feel American colleges do a bit. They know students are going to misbehave and have shenanigans, and they want to make sure we are as safe and prepared as possible for both that kind of situation, and life as a foreign student in general.

Final favorite quote, in reference to us trying classes before we sign up for them: ".... because some professors are.... dickheads...."

Then we had a fabulous tour of the fog shrouded campus (I still don't know where I'm going) and free dinner at Stables, one of 3 on-campus pubs. Yes, we have pubs on campus. Apparently people will pop in for a drink before class?? After my last semester at CMU, I guess I can understand that...

I had my first REAL Guinness this evening and it was DELICIOUS!!! Very different from American Guinness. Words cannot describe. Possibly a rainbow formed between my heart and the glass, it was really that good. Of course, my alcohol tolerance being what it is, one Guinness was enough for my night at Stables, so don't be alarmed responsible adult family members reading this!  :)

Traveling Through Hyperspace Ain't Like Dusting Crops, Boy!

POSTED LATER DUE TO EXHAUSTION AND JET LAG INDUCED DELIRIUM!!! 

Today, I finally arrived in Ireland. I am exhausted, sore, dirty, and utterly delighted. I have begun a grand adventure, in the great tradition of all my favorite book and movie heroes.

Although I am fairly certain Frodo Baggins did not have to deal with all this paperwork.

And they never showed Indiana Jones being overheated and cramped on a plane.


Possibly they got a pass because they were fighting the Dark Lord Sauron/Nazis??
I will look into this for my next traveling adventure. Maybe I can offer to slay Snookie for a first class seat on the flight back???

Overall the flight went well, aside from the whole Bawling-In-The-Airport-Because-I-Missed-My-Parents-Thing. No one asked, but if they had I would have said, "Didn't you hear? This flight stops in Jersey!"


My apartment/house is a bit more rustic than I expected, but I adore it in the way people tend to adore slightly dilapidated things. The walls and windows need some serious scrubbing, but the charm is overwhelming (to me). That being said, I will never walk around this place barefoot! It is a two story living situation, with three bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor and the same plus kitchen/living room upstairs. The bedrooms are small and contain a twin or full bed (I have twin), a desk built to the wall, a wardrobe, and a sink! The sink was a welcome surprise. The bathroom has a shower, toilet, and another sink. For all their other conservation habits, the toilet uses water in a rather spectacular manner. It sort of fountains in an alarming way when you flush. I felt inclined to jump back to the safety of the sink. The kitchen has a lot of space, but has a smaller refrigerator and a much smaller oven then I am used to. In fact, I am holding off using it until someone can show me how to use it.

LATER THAT NIGHT

SO..... I am incompetent with knobs. I decided to finally take a shower after a long day of hiking around and shopping for necessities, only to discover the shower didn't work. I tried calling Village Reception several times, but no luck. Not having slept for over 24 hours, I prepared to heat some water in pans and dump it over my head in the shower. That's when I heard muffled Irish accents from the boiler closet. I briefly wondered if there were leprechauns in there, but my brain began to synapse again and I realized it was our neighbors. Apparently sound only carries through the boiler closet. Weird. I decided to go over and ask for help.


Delightfully handsome blond guy answers the door. I am greasy, have no make-up on, and quite possibly smell. Of course. Whatever. Guys have fallen for worse, right? We get to my door. I cannot get the key to work. Been opening the darn thing all day, but now? Nope. The american cannot use her keys. He totally had to open the door for me. We get inside. I am babbling about how I turned the knob and nothing happens, when he turns the knob and something happens. Immediately. Apparently I can't turn things. I thank him profusely and he books it out of there.

Suspect I am now known as the "Special American" neighbor. Oi.