Y’know when you have a song that always reminds ya of a certain time or place? Forevermore will I remember the third weekend of August that I spent in Galway when I hear either of the following:
[The Velvet Underground - "I'm Sticking With You"]
[Antsy Pants - "Vampire"]
No no. It wasn’t my first time watching Juno or hearing the soundtrack. It was the 24 (and a litttttttle bit) hours I spent in Galway between 7:15pm Saturday and 7:30pm Sunday of the weekend just gone by.
You may have already asked the question why is this post entitled “Galway: Part Two” when there’s no post in the Auspainia archives entitled “Galway: Part One”. Well there was supposed to be. But there wasn’t as much to talk about as there is this time. So I may indeed make references to the imaginary post that is “Galway: Part One” and I will try to fill in any blanks that may crop up from having never written that post.
Things got off to a fairly pleasant start thanks to the fabulous weather:
“Don’t you hate pants?”
I arrived to the house in a state somewhat comparable to that of a drowned rat. And seeing as it was just an overnight stay I hadn’t brought a change of trousers. Being the logical chappy that I am I thought “2 pairs of trousers?? Why would I bring them?? 2 jackets on the other hand. Now THAT’s necessary”
That’s when the skorts were invented.
After peeling off the soaked clothes (and hanging them on the door to make the dead midget – who Jill repeatedly tried to kill):
The hanged midget, not to be confused with the hung midget
I decided to construct an outfit out of a t-shirt and my dry jacket. Unfortunately no photo was taken. Or maybe I should say fortunately…
“But wait a second! Did he say he constructed an outfit out of a t-shirt and a dry jacket?? That’s crazy talk David! they’re both torso-wear! What was on your legs??”
Ahhhhh thank you for asking imaginary reader. The upper body was grand. Just a normal tshirt. But that left my legs bare and all I had was a jacket… How can I work this one?
[zips jacket around legs, ties arms like drawstring]
There we go. I’d made shorts. They just didn’t have any seams in the middle. In fact there was no material in the middle. Just air. Carol politely pointed out that with the aforementioned description it was somewhat unjust to name my makeshift legwear “shorts” when in actual fact they had all the attributes of a skirt. I refused to admit that I was wearing a skirt. When I looked at myself in the mirror it really did look like I was wearing shorts. From the front. From the back was a different story however. I admitted partial defeat and reached a 50/50 compromise. They were neither shorts nor a skirt.
They were skorts.
And they were good.
I wore my skorts most the evening (despite 3 offers of trousers).
“Pasta? Or Soup? Or Sousta? Not Poup.”
Cooked my dinner – smoked salmon pasta with a cream and white wine sauce – which ended up being white wine and cream soup with a tiiiiiny bit of smoked salmon and a few strings of spaghetti. It’s soupiness was aided by my reaction after my first spoonful of the stuff:
“This is missing something”
[proceeds to pour half the bottle of wine into the bowl]
“I’ve got trousers!!!”
Eventually I got bored of/cold/over-ventilated from wearing my skorts so after hair dryering (yeah it’s a verb) the bejayzus out of my jeans they were dry enough for me to wear and I returned to the sitting room, bursting through the door declaring:
“I’ve got trousers!!!”
Unfortunately due to the loudness of the hair dryer I hadn’t noticed the arrival of 3 new guests. Yeah….. I declared the fact that I was wearing trousers to 3 complete strangers. I felt so cool. I kinda spun around in a circle with embarrasment (a la Dizzy Dizzy dinonsaur) before finding a corner to cower in.
The following events may not exactly be in sequence but I don’t care and neither should you.
The vagitaional pull of Karl’s ass
With the music playing on the ipod speakers which were perched atop the TV (completely illogically) we became witness to something that was later termed “the vagitaional pull of Karl’s ass”. Somehow, every time Karl got up to dance the ipod speakers would get knocked off the TV.
The ipod speakers that were on the other side of the room.
The seismic reaction of Karl’s ass shaking (or “assquake”) sent tremors across the room disrupting the music from its natural habitat. Isn’t nature fascinating?
Andrew Kenny, meet… Kenny Andrews??
Given that Jill’s boyfriend Andrew was staying over at the same time I was down there I thought it only right that I give forewarning that my alter ego Andrew may make a guest appearance later in the night (He allegedly did). Anyway I wanted to avoid confusion given how my Andrew always speaks of himself in the third person and I didnt want Jill thinking I was talking about her Andrew in a derogatory manner. So we decided her Andrew needed a nickname but it turns out he hates being called by his last name, Kenny. It was at that moment I realised my Andrew doesn’t have a surname. Then everyone started talking really fast and a lot of confusion ensued. Some suggestions emerged including:
- give my Andrew the surname Kenny. I can’t see what problems that would’ve solved. If anything It would’ve made matters more confusing
- change Jill’s Andrew’s first name to Kenny and his surname to Andrews making him Kenny Andrews. It could work but it was still very confusing
- rename my Andrew and call him Kenny Andrews. ABSOLUTELY no. My Andrew is never getting renamed.
Other highlights included
- 2 garlic and cheese fries, regular fries, pepperoni pizza and Sprite
- Going crazy when “Chick Habit” came on in the Róisín
- The 3 taxi fiasco
- “For all the X in China”
- The bouncers in the Róisín not giving a shit when I broke 3 glasses but making me aware of it all the same
- # I kissed a girl, and it was ok #
- To do: Warm shower, cold beer
No Comments Yet
No comments yet.
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment
