The Luck of the Irish

Corrib Village is a freshmen housing complex. This means that we are, by far, the oldest here. The Irish kids, starting college at 17, are a good 3 years younger than us. At first this bothered us, but they are turning 18 and we are turning 21. The conclusion has been drawn that these are fairly equivalent in terms of maturity level (especially after a few beers) and interests (in beer).

So anyway, there is one Irish girl we know, who shall remain nameless, who is 17. She looks kind of like one of the American girls, so she uses the American ID to get into nightclubs. But first we had to teach her to say the birthdate in an American accent. It was quite entertaining so of course I recorded it (coming soon to a Facebook page near you).

On a related note, I may or may not have lost my camera the other night (don’t tell my mom and dad). When I realized, I freaked out for the following 24 hours. I was about to consult Mike on the best way to explain screw-ups to our parents, since he’s had enough practice at it (kidding, Mike), but the next day I was saved. Mid-freak-out, I ran into our neighbor who asked if one of us Americans lost their camera. Apparently a random guy in the complex who I don’t know at all found the camera in the middle of the street, saw the video of our neighbors on it, added some pictures of his own, and then returned it to our neighbors. This is highly surprising because there’s a very sticky fingers lifestyle here (to be explained later).

Anyway, the camera is in one piece. Miraculously it still works. And the reactions I get will be a test as to whether or not Mom and Dad actually read this blog.

P.S. My roommates made tacos tonight. The Irish girls thought they were an amazing novelty. It is by the hands of God that I was plunked down in an apartment with girls who like to cook.

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