the one with the sniffing

Have you ever smelled a blend of too-sweet flowers and crappy beer? No? I have a point to this, I promise.

Last night we headed out for the second time with Darcy to meet up with her Irish frisbee friends.  I like them–they seem like a good group.  After some time hanging out in one of the teammates’ house, we headed to Roisin Dubh (pronounced: R-oh-shin Dove).  This is the pub where the silent disco takes place, but since that’s only on Tuesdays it was a completely regular pub last night.  It was weird not seeing people bopping along to the music wearing headphones.  There was still some good music so we all hit the dance floor.  Part of what I like about going out here is that guys actually dance, even when they are not dancing particularly with one girl.  They just aren’t afraid to bust a move on their own.  We had a lot of fun, but as the night got later and later Sara and I were ready to head home.  Cue going back to the spot next to the stairs where we strategically hid our jackets when we got there.  Anddd mine was soaked.  I didn’t even know what it was at first–there was no way I was wearing it home no matter what.  I would have frozen.  So carrying my jacket almost at arm’s length, I followed Sara outside to find a cab to take us home.  We both laid out our jackets carefully on the banister before we went to bed.  Cue waking up this morning and opening the door to the hallway.  Oh my–it reeked of beer.  Do a sniff check.  Yep, yep that’s pretty much just my jacket there.  Great.  I can’t wear this to class.  People will think I’m an alcoholic.  So I did what any student who is putting off laundry does–grabbed the Febreeze and started spraying (more like dousing).  It was the best solution I had at the moment. At least I still had my coat that was clean and it wasn’t raining during any of my walks today! (God smiled on me.)  I let my jacket lay out like that just about all day and only now did a second round sniff-check.  Floral beer.  How nice.  It will have to do!

We are headed to Cork bright and early tomorrow morning, with an 8:30 AM bus ride.  I am packed and ready to go.  The floral beer jacket will be worn all weekend–I really have no choice. “Why Mary did you just take a shower in beer then roll through a field of wild flowers?”  Yes, yes I did.  Thank you for noticing.  You’re very kind.

See you on Sunday with a full update of our quick trip to Cork!

Cheers for now ♣

on getting carded

Today Sara and I had a lunch date in town between classes.  We are still getting used to the fact that we can leave campus, go into town, and take our leisurely time in between classes.  We went to a place we hadn’t tried before called Revive Café.  I was adventurous once again and got a smoked salmon sandwich that had a bunch of other stuff on it and I had no idea what it would taste like.  I enjoyed it though!  Might as well eat more fish while I’m here because it’s so fresh. 

Back at school, we found a cozy spot to sit and read in the psychology department for a while.  My class was uneventful as per the norm.  I went for a good run when I got home.  I must take advantage of every available moment of sun.  Now for the real story of the day after my run…

Ah yes, another endeavor that involves the purchase or consumption of alcohol in Ireland in which someone needs to check my foreign ID.  This time it happened at the grocery store.  Sara and I had to make a few purchases to restock the fridge.  Not a lot–we didn’t have a banquet but enough to fill up our baskets.  We did our individual store-wandering, and then headed for the liquor aisle.  We need to get out of the house tonight, potentially going to The Front Door.  As we are economically savvy, a bottle of wine was in order to save money on drinks when we go out.  I approach the “till” (as they call it here.  Do people say that in the states? I can’t remember.) with my groceries and seven euro bottle of wine.  I even put the wine first, knowing that the cashier would ask for my ID.  That’s cool, I know I look under 25.  She sat there studying my Massachusetts license.  Also cool, I’m used to this.  She appears to have found the date of birth just as I am about to lean over and help her out.  I have nothing to hide.  I’m three years older than the legal age here.  Then she gets to the picture and (I’m not exaggerating) looks back and forth from it to my face at least four times, visibly frowning and squinting.  Okay this doesn’t normally happen.  I’m 16 in that picture.  I know I look like a baby in it.  But seeing as I just came here from a run before showering I probably look about as good as I did in that picture.  She tentatively hands it back. “Yes. I suppose that’s you.”  Amm. Okay.  Cue discomfort.  But she’s not done. She has another two cents: “92 it was, wasn’t it?” Yes, I was born in 1992.  I am 21 years old.  I would like that wine please.  Clearly this woman did not want to sell me alcohol of any sort.  Why do you hate America?  I am convinced that part of her skepticism was because I went for the seven euro bottle.  Should I have chosen something more expensive so as to appear less desperate and a woman of better taste? I’m on a budget, lady.  Don’t judge me.  She continued ringing up my items.  Yes, that’s just water.  That’s milk.  Those are eggs.  She is still making a face like she’s irritated she couldn’t tell me I was underage and put the wine under the counter.  It was just the one bottle of wine, stop looking at me like that already!  Meanwhile, Sara has completed her own purchases and is standing in the kids clothing section nearby.  I don’t think we were even looking at each other.  “You, (addressing Sara) are you with that lady there?” What?  “Are you with that lady there?” Turned out “that lady” was me.  Yes, hello I am standing right here and you’re being rude?  “I just need to ID you as well if you’re with her.”  Why are you assuming this ? (to myself) Yeah, sure no problem! (<This out loud from me) Take a good long study of her ID as well.  Take your time.  No, I’m not buying alcohol for an underager.  “Okay then.  Thank you.”  No ma’am.  Thank you.

Ignoring the cashier’s annoyance with me and Sara, we headed back home to make dinner: a delicious round of French toast!

Tidbit: next Tuesday, Fat Tuesday in the states, is called Pancake Tuesday here.  I can get on board with that!  Isabel and Margaret sounded like they were up for having a pancake party too!  Yay for roommate bonding time.

Cheers for now ♣

the hometown of my ancestors

Last night I had a moment of roommate appreciation.  I know that a lot of people study abroad without knowing a single person on the trip.  And maybe I should try to find a best friend in an Irish student.  Butttt I love having my little support group. It gives me great comfort.  Sara and I spent almost an hour in her room just talking about life and laughing.  It’s the best therapy I could ask for. (Besides the almost half pint of Ben and Jerry’s Clever Cookies I finished last night…)  We also decided to book a short trip to Cork for this weekend! We are going to take an early bus on Saturday and come back late afternoon Sunday, so hopefully that leaves us enough time to do everything we want to do.  I’m already making a list.  I’ve heard that Cork is a beautiful place, but I really don’t know what one does there.  The National Geographic Ireland travel book I got for Christmas is proving most helpful with our travel around this tiny island.  I am excited for another backpack-only weekend and our first night staying in a hostel. (Crossing my fingers that it works out!)  Apparently since Cork is one of the larger counties in Ireland, a lot of Americans claim their relatives are from there even though they aren’t actually sure.  I don’t have a darn clue where the McDermott clan is from, so let’s just jump on that bandwagon and say that I’m returning to the hometown of my ancestors this weekend!

Class today had little to note except for a couple things.  In my first class, the lecturer went on and on about the disconnect between a character and the space she occupies in the novel we’re reading.  Well this is ironic.  I’m sitting in a lecture hall where I don’t know anyone and the professor could not even guess at the first letter of my first name (though not her fault, I recognize that there are probably close to 200 people in this course).  Talk about disconnect with the space you occupy.  I was hit with the realization this morning that this is actually how I have felt about my academics here lately.  I am in the process of plugging away at the books on each syllabus, yes.  But since I haven’t actually had to write any of my thoughts down about the books, my analysis leaves something to be desired. I fear that my analytical writing skills are deteriorating as we speak.  But if anything, the fact that I feel this way only motivates me to keep reading and thinking and make sure that my final exam essays are the most beautifully crafted pieces my professors have ever laid eyes on.

I received the pleasant surprise in my second class that the two papers I have to write for it are due the exact same days as the two papers I have to write for another English class.  Figures. April will be a test of my time management skills! Woo hoo! Academic life as a study abroad student is the weirdest thing.  I care about my grades a great deal, but I’m here just as much for the life experience.

Before I let you go, I don’t want to brag but….I wore shorts on my run today.  It wasn’t the kind of weather that one can just stroll around in shorts without freezing her bum off, but I knew that I would get warm enough on my run that it was doable.  But boy are my legs pasty.  I fit right in.  I guess I am becoming more Irish after all.

Countdown to Cork: 3 days!

Tidbit: The lovely phrase “couldn’t be arsed” is a way of saying that you’re unmotivated or couldn’t be bothered. Elegant, isn’t it?

Cheers for now ♣

alarm alarm

An apology: To my sister, Casey, who felt that a blog post-less yesterday left a void in her life.  How is she supposed to sufficiently stalk my life without a detailed account of my day?  I’m sure you all feel the same way.  If not charming, my amateur blog writing is at least informative.  So first I will catch you up on yesterday.  After Mary O’Malley’s class, I sat in the college bar for a couple hours for lunch and trying to get a few things done.  I like the environment there.  It’s relaxed (well, half the people are having a midday pint…) and they play good music.  I try to glance up at the news on tv once in a while, but I have to admit that when they started playing Spongebob Squarepants, it actually held my attention more effectively.  Yesterday was one of those days where I managed to feel incredibly busy and yet get almost nothing done.  However, the things that did get checked off my to do list were important at least.  I didn’t get enough done but I still wanted to go to the comedy competition finale at The Kings Head.  I was glad that we went even though it ran late and I was tired today.  The acts did a great job and I was glad there were no accents that were difficult to understand as there were in preliminary rounds.  The winner was a ukulele-playing ginger man with a beard.  I just seemed so appropriate.

As I write this, the house smoke detectors have gone off a few times.  What are you cooking, dear roommates??  It appears to be a theme of my day. My contemporary literature class had ten minutes left when we were ushered from the lecture hall by a siren and an automated voice informing us “fire has been detected in the building.”  It actually was quite alarming and I actually saw a man sitting in front of me throw up his hands.  People claimed they actually smelled smoke.  Amm you live in Ireland people.  That’s the cigarettes and the people who smoke them.  I wasn’t going to wait around inhaling people’s secondhand smoke from their early cigarette break.  Might as well go home?  I had to go to the grocery store to find something for dinner anyway.  Little food in my house and unfortunately I don’t know if Ben and Jerry’s “Clever Cookies” ice cream could really be considered a well-rounded meal.  I stopped at home briefly to drop off my stuff and continued to the grocery store.

Now I pride myself on not having many “freak outs” here on any scale thus far.  But sometimes these things hit unexpectedly.  There I was in the produce aisle of Dunne’s staring at a container of grapes when I was hit with an inexplicable desire to tear up.  Not cry or sob, mind you, but just tear up to the point of needing an embrace or a shoulder pat.  People around me were reaching for their familiar brands and products and there I was taking three solid minutes to decide whether or not to buy some fruit. (And if you know how much I love fruit, you might realize just how upsetting it was for me to question this purchase at all.) Can I please make a purchase without converting euros to dollars in my head first? I just wandered around for a few minutes to try and be inspired.  I bought a box of frozen pizza things because they looked like Bagel Bites.  I did manage to find something good for dinner but realized that I had grabbed turkey instead of chicken when I got to the check-out. Whatever, it will work.  A middle aged woman (I note this because she was old enough to know better) was completely up my butt as I tried to pay and bag my items (there are no baggers at the grocery stores here) only adding to my irritation.  I just wanted my mom to make me tortellini soup please.  I managed a dinner that was actually delicious though despite my un-provoked internal upset–pasta with pesto, turkey and some really good cheese on top. Quite pleased with myself that it worked out.

And now I have to figure out tonight’s plans.  Maybe homework, maybe silent disco, maybe just sleep.  

Cheers for now ♣

400 words on eating a BoyChik doughnut

Walking into town today, we all seemed to be holding our breath as one.  Do we dare even hope that doughnut man is in the market today?  Do we even think it?  The walk down Shop Street was almost painful like this.  Trying not to walk too fast, but wanting to sprint at the same time.  The moment of truth arrived when we had to turn down the street the market is on.  A lot of booths were set up which is always a good sign.  We walked past the paintings and carvings, the jewelry and the homemade jams.  And then, at the very end of the line of tents, like a mirage in the desert we spotted the green “BoyChik Doughnut” sign.  Please tell me that he is here to stay and that the wind isn’t making him pack up the minute I approach his tent.  Please don’t tease me with this.  We approached cautiously, almost as if we didn’t believe that he was actually there at all.  “Hello ladies, what can I get for ye?”  Oh my gosh.  May I have one plain sugar, please? “Coming right up.”  He handed me the doughnut and I could have cried. (It was like he just gave me the first piece of apple pie made with fruit picked only hours before from Tougas.)  I honestly just stared at it for a solid thirty seconds.  I’m not even ready to eat this.  Because then when I start eating it, it will start being gone and I don’t know if I can deal with that sort of separation with this doughnut right now.  But I took a bite.  And it was just as delicious as I remembered.  The crispy, fried outside covered in sugar that sticks to your lips.  The doughy, soft but light inside that contrasts with the outside and provides the complexity of the doughnut that is still so simple.  I tried so hard to eat it slowly and savor each bite.  These are not doughnuts that you each six of.  That would only offend just how good they are.  You don’t need coffee or tea with these.  They are not something to dunk.  They are independent of all other food.  I am always shocked when Irish students have not heard about these doughnuts.  What are you doing with your life?  Whatever it is, drop it on a weekend morning and go buy a doughnut.  It’s the best 80 cents you’ll spend that day, I guarantee it.

Oh yeah, I did some other stuff today too.  Finished a book, did a group homework assignment, went for a run.  None of these things are important.  I got my second doughnut.

Peace love and doughnuts.

Cheers for now ♣

three’s company, but five is a full house

Sleeping in until 11:30 is most glorious.  It was one of those days where I didn’t mind sleeping and losing my morning hours.  It was gray and drizzly for the entire afternoon, but I still made sure to get out for a run.  I spent the afternoon reading, catching up with some friends, and in a generally unenergetic state because of the grayness.  So when we decided to go into town for dinner, I thought it was a good idea just to get out of the house.  We planned on going to a place called Fat Freddy’s that apparently has some great Italian food, but we were turned away when all of the small tables were full and the larger tables were reserved.  I certainly didn’t anticipate this, but I guess it was a Saturday night.  At the same time, it just reassured me that we should try again sometime if the food really is that good!

So we headed instead to a place that I’ve been wanting to go anyway.  The Pie Maker is a tiny, hole-in-the-wall place with only four very small tables and a few stools at the counter.  The decorating is somewhat whimsical, with one of the smaller walls entirely covered in one foot wooden rulers that actually blend in so well that you can hardly tell it conceals a door.  I got the chicken and mushroom pie with mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy on the side.  I really just wanted some hot food, but I was so pleasantly surprised by just how good it actually was.  Wow, seriously.  Easily top five meals that I’ve had here.  I was scraping my plate.  This is getting added to the list of potential places to bring my family.  On the way back home, I was confused walking through town.  There appeared to be way more groups of 30-something year old men than usual.  Were these “stag” parties?  No idea.  It was still pretty early, but some of them were wearing some weird clothes, so who knows? I saw a man wearing what looked like underwear on the outside of his pants… (Like the Doug Funny cartoon, anyone?)

Back at the house, we had a quiet night watching a movie.  Of course they aren’t usually here on the weekends, but it feels as if I haven’t seen Margaret and Isabel for a very long time.  Just the three of us in a living space made for five makes the place feel huge and cold.  I will be excited to hear about their trip to Budapest when they get back.  Is it weird that I miss them a little bit? We’ve only known each other for hardly two months.

Tomorrow will be full of homework, but hopefully the doughnut man is around in the morning to start my day off with something delicious!

Cheers for now ♣

breeze and febreeze

After staying in all week, I was bored beyond belief.  So when our Nova friend told us about a party she was going to for her frisbee team, I made the executive decision that we were going to go.  It was a fun night with meeting some hilarious new people.  I was so impressed at how well Darcy fits in with all of the Irish students already. I still feel like I stick out immediately as an American when I’m around Irish people. (Maybe it’s because I don’t drink like a fish! Ah!)  The Irish students certainly have fun with Americans.  Sara and I say that we feel extremely naive at times here. When they use (mainly inappropriate) words that we don’t use in the states, we always regret asking what they mean.  But since we don’t know what they mean, we can’t really help it!  We become a source of their entertainment.  Hey, I don’t mind as long as I’m not offending anyone. The only thing I was not thrilled about from my night was the Irish kids smoking inside.  Yuck.  My clothes needed an emergency dousing of febreeze this morning.  

I like having class in the afternoon on Fridays.  My class schedule here is not demanding.  On most days, I have a morning class and an afternoon class, so it’s nice that the week ends on an easy day.  I had time this morning to do even more cleaning of my kitchen, living room, and bedroom.  I have to admit that my tidiness has been lacking but when I get in a cleaning mood, I keep going until it’s done.

Sara came to school with me while I had class this afternoon even though she doesn’t have class on Fridays.  She’s really keeping up with her work, as hard as it is to stay focused here.  We ended up going to Butlers for hot chocolate afterwards. (Seriously delicious.)  It was a gorgeous day for the most part besides the wind–sunny with blue skies!  But naturally, as soon as I decided I wanted to go to Salt Hill (a beach area) it started pouring.  Just my luck.  Plenty of time here to go another day, at least!

Well it’s a short post but I’m exhausted so it’s time to crash!

Cheers for now ♣

the one where Erin gets a present

I woke up today not really wanting to speak to anyone. (Besides the fact that I’m not a morning person) I wasn’t mad or sad, I was merely content in my own head and I was tired.  So our walk to school at 9:30 was a quiet one.  Hardly any words were exchanged besides an obligatory “ready to go?” “yep.” “okay.”  That is, until I heard Erin from a step behind me: “Awwwww man! Nooooo.” I turned around to see her holding her left arm away from her body.  On the sleeve of her green rain jacket was a distinct spatter of bird poop. (From one of the many seagulls that fly around these parts in case you were curious.)  Naturally, this broke up our silence quite nicely. “It’s okay you can rinse it right off in the bathroom when we get to school.”  “It could have been worse–could have been your face or your hair.”  “It’s good luck!” (This optimistic gem from Sara.) And all the while poor Erin looking more disgusted than I have ever seen her.  But I had to laugh a little as well.  What do you say to someone who has been pooped on? Poor thing.  Luckily it came right off before class.

Though Dermot’s class today turned out to be equally as ridiculous.  I don’t know if I was sleep-deprived or Dermot was in rare form or a combination of the two. I laughed more in that one class than I have in all my other classes this semester combined.  It certainly broke my contemplative silence even further than the bird poop incident. Dermot is the type of professor I would like to be able to take back with me to Villanova.  And the fact that he teaches service learning is completely appropriate.  Seriously, Father Peter should offer him a job.

After class, Sara and I spent some quality time in the library.  I have piles of reading to do, so I take advantage of breaks between classes to catch up.  I broke the rules again and ate at my library desk. (I didn’t see any official signs posted…) I was hungry and needed to work at the same time.  The library provides a wonderful opportunity for people-watching as well.  Maybe its because it’s a public university but I feel that I see a lot greater variety of hair color and styles at NUIG–a lot of pink, blue, silver (which is basically gray and I don’t understand why a 20-something year old would choose this).  The man at the table behind me had a mostly close-cropped, typical boy hair cut with the exception of four or five very long dread locks at the nape of his neck.  Now that is a statement.  Do your thing, dude.

After my second class of the day, I knew that I needed to exercise as soon as I got home because otherwise I might just curl up in my bed and never leave it.  I observed something on my run today that I’ve been seeing since I got here.  When I first arrived in Galway, I would notice a lot of dogs seemingly wandering through town or along the road.  They would be wearing collars, but not leashes.  Only about a week ago did I realized that most of these dogs are actually on a walk with their owner.  The owner is merely as much as several yards (should I use meters?) ahead of them.  This must be a combination of a few things: relaxed owners, no leash law (?), and dogs that understand that if they choose to run away they will live out their lives in cold and dampness.  I’m glad that they have homes, even though I would gladly take them in myself.

Well I should be going, as my laptop just requested that I plug it in or find another power source.  What other sort of power source am I going to find?  Should I find a way to power my laptop with gasoline? (Here they call gas stations petrol stations.)

Cheers for now ♣

those spoiled euro kids

My expectations were low for attendance in my two early classes today. Galway is still in the middle of a crazy week in which students go out just about every night and huge parties thrive.  I don’t understand how they do this. Walking to lecture, I thought to myself, “Welling this is going to be a riveting experience listening to a professor for an hour as the only person in the 200 person lecture hall.”  I was pleasantly surprised to find that between one fourth to one third of each of my classes actually showed up.  Well done!  Apparently yesterday was “Donegal Day” in which people from there come to Galway to go out as well and it just adds to the numbers of people in town.  Even professors acknowledged this.  “I guess Donegal Day got the best of many people.”  When your professors start commenting on these things, it just gets embarrassing.

After class, I had to head into town to “top off” my phone.  If you missed my confusion about this term the first time, then I will explain again.  Basically I have a pay as you go phone in order to be able to text and make calls to my friends within Ireland.  Though instead of pay as you go they use the term “top off.”  I guess it’s like topping off a coffee, adding a little bit even when it’s not run down all the way.  Though in this case, I topped off with Euros so that I can keep using my phone.  I guess most phone stores are pretty busy, but the one that we go to seems exceptional.  It makes me wonder about the quality of their service.  If this many people have issues with their phones (as most people in line seemed to have) then shouldn’t it be getting less business? I don’t know.  After the woman in front of us tried to explain a way to get to a different store (that would take us halfway to Salthill–far enough away it would have been a waste of time to walk there) we gave up on it for the moment.  By total happy accident, I found a store that’s actually closer to where we live on my way home.  It’s nice that I’m still figuring out things while I’m here.  I don’t think I will ever be bored this semester.

I also finally got my hands on the kitchen today to give it a scrub down.  It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.  I might not have the cleanest bedroom, but a dirty kitchen is gross so I was thrilled as I washed away.  I will probably slowly clean most of the house over the next few days.  Margaret and Isabel jetted off to Budapest today so it will be a bit quieter and easier without so many people around.  Seriously, European students have no idea how spoiled they are with how easy it is to see so many different places and cultures.  “Oh just going to Budapest, no big deal.” Yes, it is a big deal actually.

So we had another quiet night of watching TV in the Sara, Erin, and Mary household.  Hopefully more exciting things to report in the next couple of days.

Cheers for now ♣

“yeah I say totes”

Today was actually another beautiful day in Galway.  And I just knew that it would be a good day for everyone when Dermot finally realized that instead of using a large stick, he could merely flick a switch on the wall to turn on the projector in class.  (A lot of Irish professors don’t seem to be too tech-savvy.)  It actually turned out to be an awesome day for Erin and Sara especially when they ran into Dermot at Starbucks after class and he bought them chocolate! Why didn’t I join them?

I even got, dare I say it, hot on my run today.  It felt like spring. I looked out my bedroom window to see pale Irish students basking in the sun on their roofs (though one was wearing a pajama onesie… Amm anyway).  I’m so sorry to everyone in northeast who feels that they may never see spring again.  I didn’t get much of a winter this year and I think I’m okay with that.  The snow in Edinburgh was nice to see for a day, but I don’t particularly need to see huge piles of it until April as I would in Mass.

Tutoring was probably the most successful it has been thus far today.  I laugh when I walk in and Samantha waves at me. She is actually adorable. Then she snaps her fingers and points to the chair next to her.  Well, excuse you, Miss! For the second time in the weeks I’ve been there, we got all of her homework completed and done correctly by the end of our hour.  I was very proud of her and from her several announcements (directed to the teacher but loud and proud enough for the whole room to hear) she was proud of herself too.  It’s always a refresher for me when I help with her work.  Electrical circuits? Conductors and insulators? I haven’t done this stuff in years.  Am I really being helpful? I think Samantha just likes to have someone with her while she does her work.  We are getting to know each other and I know that I get just as much from our time together as I hope she does.  As I was about to leave, I turned back to her to say, You know I really have fun with you.  From under her over-sized hood she replied, “Yeah I know.  Totes.”  You say totes? “Yeah. I say totes” from the talking hood.  Okay, Samantha.  I shouldn’t be getting as attached as I am.  I always get sad when I have to leave the kids I volunteer with.

It’s tough going from a fun time doing fourth grade homework to my 5 pm lecture.  The lecturer is a progressive woman who likes to casually throw in phallic language, oppression of female minorities by white men, and the politics of communism into her lectures in a nonchalant tone.  From what I understand, their only purpose is to make me uncomfortable and stop listening. If that really is their true goal then she’s succeeding very well.  The good part about having so many different professors lecturing for each course is that I will very soon be done listening (or not) to her.

Tidbit: There are no squirrels or chipmunks in Ireland. Where are the furry woodland creatures? I guess I just assumed that since so much about Ireland is similar, the fauna would be as well.  Maybe they just didn’t like the rain and decided to try for a drier climate when they first got off the ark.

Fun fact: cursive writing=joint writing.  When the teacher asked me in his thick accent if Samantha was using her “joint writing,” I thought he said “giant writing.” Amm, no looks pretty normal-sized to me, sir. (Miscommunication was remedied when Samantha repeated the word for me.)

Cheers for now ♣