Kiss me, I'm Irish and haven't brushed my teeth!

I have always been smart enough to pick friends with parents with money. Money that likes to be spent on me. I also have been smart enough to not get arrested or get a tattoo on my face, so said rich friend's parents will take me on vacations I have rightfully earned.

I got to stay at a lake house every summer with Kendal while we were growing up. Her family also took me skiing and when I shattered the rented house's window with my ski boot, I didn't shatter my chances of continued spoiling. Through adulthood I continue to take advantage of their Mexico condo as often as possible.

Me at Kendal's parent's condo. I'm 142 weeks preggo here, so don't be a hater

Greer's parents gave me 6th row tickets to the OKC Thunders playoff game a few weeks ago.

Thunder up!

 Last week they paid for me to eat a lavish lunch at their country club. (I ordered extra so I'd have leftovers. I deserved it for trying to convince their daughter to not get any more tattoos). The best thing they've ever done for me is to take me where no teen-who-has-not-yet-sown-her-wild-oats should ever go.

Ireland, matey!

Is matey pirate or Irish talk?

It was my senior year of high school, 2001.  I was a good catholic girl who did not drink alcohol and though I frequently thought about sex, if someone suggested it I would tell their parents and spike my own drink with Ortho-Tri-Cyclen. But in Ireland, it's not considered immoral to get plastered every minute of the day. It's not frowned upon to bring a hot Guinness to church.  It's also not considered rude to be a 17 year old American with blond hair, grunge-free teeth, and a friend who has the same attributes.




Notice the circled Irish people. No wonder we were super-models in the green land.



 We were with a large church group from Texas and drove a giant tour bus all over the southern part of the country. (Apparently, Northern Ireland, including Belfast, is full of haters). By the time we flew to Manchester, took a bus to Wales, rode on a ferry to Dublin, and drove our new tour bus to our hotel we were hungry enough to eat a goat with hoof and mouth disease.* We sat down to our first Irish meal. It was a plate full of tomatoes, tomato juice, beans, bean juice, unknown breakfast meat, unknown breakfast meat juice, over-easy eggs and the amniotic chicken fluid that comes along, with a side of brown soda bread and constipation. This was all mixed together on one plate and put in front of us with Irish pride. The only thing Greer consumes is salsa, Now and Laters, and push-ups, so she was also less than impressed with this cultured breakfast. We both mourned the loss of  bagels and apples and decided to sleep instead of eat.




We "ate" at this weird Irish place


Most of the trip was dedicated to (insert something besides eating here) instead of eating. I think the only way we kept from having swollen Ethiopian bellies and flies on our eyes was vegetable soup and soda bread. Vegetable soup in Ireland, even in fancy restaurants, was 142 different kinds of vegetables, cooked then pureed and poured into a bowl. We would take the tasteless brown soda bread and use it to penetrate the mush with trepidation, then cover the new creation with salt and swallow it with vodka and a laxative.

We were beginning to regret coming on this exciting trip after the first 24 hours of flying, driving, boating, churching, and anorexicating. We were in the hotel after dinner on our first day when a man named Peter asked us to come to the hotel bar with him because we were pretty and smelled good. Peter was interesting. He looked like Adrien Brody but had Harry Potter glasses and converse. I think he was "cool" but I really don't know. He loved Greer. They had a conversation that went something like this:

Peter: You're pretty, I like your hair and teeth, and I tell you a joke.
Greer: What'd you say?
Peter: HAHA. The horse. The ball. The cat.
Greer: um. What?
Peter: I once threw a ball at the air, and it went up so high, it never came down no.
Greer.........
Peter: HAHA.
Greer: Is that the joke? I don't get it. I like you.
Peter: HAHA. HAHA. THE HORSE. THE BALL. MY CAT.

Obviously in Ireland they speak English, but we never understood a damn word they said.** I think that's why Peter kept SAYING the word HA in succession to make it sound like a laugh, then made fun of us by dumbing down his language into short nouns that made sentence fragments. This kind of behavior was intriguing to Greer, as she's always been into guys that are incoherent and mentally-disturbed. And drunk. She spent the rest of the 14-day trip whining about wanting to go back to Dublin and find Peter so he could talk about the horse and the cat.




Peter told us if we were bored we should go to a pub close by and he would come with us. I think that's what he said. I had never been drunk before, much less been to a bar. I also was used to consuming upwards of 3000 calories a day that didn't show on my 17 year old ass. Therefore, the 43 calories I had eaten of vegetables would make for a fun evening of first-time drunking myself.




We're 17! and drinking! (Look at the bartender)(This is what everyone in Ireland looked like)


The pub was shaped like a castle and within walking distance. I didn't know how to order a drink so I found someone with clean teeth and assuming she was an American asked what I should drink for my first time. She suggested a warm Guiness. She clearly did not understand that I said "I'm 17 and have never drank before", and instead thought I had said "I'm a 60 year old Irish man who is already wasted and wants something that tastes like battery acid and assholes." Once we realized Guinness was not for me, I ordered a Malibu and Coke and Greer got a schmirnoff ice. (I know that's spelled wrong, that is how we said it because we were 17 and not at all awesome).

Malibu and Coke tasted like summer with a sun tan. I was in. I drank almost 3 before I was ready to go somewhere and eat some food. Greer had had 2 schmirnoff ices and since she weighs 94 lbs was also ready for pretty much anything. We wanted Dennys french fries and ranch dressing and ketchup. We wanted this so bad that we drunkenly convinced ourselves we could get it. Peter and another clean teeth girl walked us back to our hotel, where Greer inappropriately gave him a hug and an "I loooove you Petey".

The hotel restaurant was closed, they said we could only order room service. We were about to stumble to our rooms when someone called our names and we noticed the rest of the church group, including Greer's parents and our youth pastors in the lobby. Greer's dad asked where we'd been and never having been one to lie I said we'd been out dranking at the pub, yo. Greer sat down and leaned her head against a light pole and Greer's dad asked if I was feeling okay. I gave him and the bellboy a hug, then laughed really hard and told my youth pastor I was needing some french fries up in my mouth. Greer's mom walked us to our room, where we used the phone to long-distance call our boyfriends back home at a whopping 92 cents a minute. (Thanks Jack, sorry about that!) After we'd had our boyfriend-fill, we set to the task of getting us some french fries. This is how that went.

Room Service: Ay yes matey, may the lucka the irish be with you, what may you be liking this evening schmaedddy schmeddity doo.
Mary: Hi honey boo, I don't know what you just said but we need some fries, really soon.
Room: ay we have fries yes schmeddity schmoo
Mary: HELL YES. WE NEED KETCHUP TOO. A LOT OF IT.
RS: ay you don't need ketchup with fries no? no no no.
Mary: Hey don't be a hater, we're Americans and we like ketchup. Do you have ranch dressing?
RS: ay no we don't have that no. Would you fancy some tomato juice then lad?
Mary: Tomato juice, what? NO. I want french fries. Ketchup. If you bring me a bowl of pureed vegetables I will throw a diseased goat at you.
RS: ay lad. but surely you don't want ketchup really?
Mary: WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, GINGER? BRING US SOME FRIES AND KETCHUP AND AS MUCH OF IT AS WE CAN HAVE. WE DON'T CARE HOW MUCH IT COSTS OR IF YOU THINK IT'S GROSS.
RS: ay yes ma'am we'll have it right there.

Less than one minute later, they left a silver tray outside our door and when we uncovered it there was one small bag of Lay's barbecue potato chips and a silver ramekin full of vinegar and tomatoes. Apparently fries are not the same thing in Ireland as they are in Oklahoma. And apparently they hand make their ketchup upon request, with vinegar, tomato juice, and the broken food-dreams of 2 drunken 17-year olds.




Greer on a castle. It wasn't really in 1994.


The rest of the trip was amazing, and I will definitely go back to Ireland. We figured out we could buy salt n vinegar chips and candy instead of eating at restaurants, even though we eventually got used to veggie puree and brown soda bread. We went to so many fun pubs and go so much Irish attention, I'm still coasting off that self-esteem 10 years later. The drinking made the fact that our bus was 5 inches wider than the road and constantly tipping off the green mountain into the ocean bearable.

I think Greer still considers Peter, the 30 year old Dublin man with an emo Cosby sweater, the one that got away.









This was the Cranberrie's lead singer's house. I know!? Why would we go anywhere else, right!?



Me at a glass factory. Being a hot teenager. sigh.



Greer. Castle. Grafitti.



My most lady-like stance at the Blarney castle.

 *Hoof and mouth disease was rampant when we were there. Everywhere we went had giant disinfectant pads you had to soak your shoes in. We would be driving along the Irish countryside and we would see a group of goats and one with a green letter painted on it. I felt like all the Irish people also looked like they had hoof and mouth disease, and I frequently wanted to paint them green and give them some astringent and colgate.
**One night I was in a pub dancing by myself when an irish goat-man came up to me and say he loved my "tit". I was appalled and told him he needed to go to Belfast with the rest of the haters. He said it a few more times and then pointed to his grungy mouth, very confused. He was telling me I had beautiful teeth and I thought he was complimenting my teenage rack.