Mixed Spirits

I have some terrible news: I might, just might, be an adult. The test results won't be in for a few weeks, but the early indicators aren't good. Last weekend for example I spent three valuable hours organising stationary and changing bed covers. Something about determining whichever the floral cover or the leopard print alternative would suit the room more made me think that perhaps my best days are behind me. It didn't help that it took a lot more time and energy than expected applying one fuckin' sheet to a mattress.

The optimist within me soon began to take control of the situation and got me thinking of the many promising and positive sides of adulthood i.e. alcohol. It was fresh on my mind after a liver damaging past few weeks consisting of Galway's unofficial rag week, Saint Patrick's Day Weekend and my sister's eighteenth birthday getaway break to Belfast. I have assembled some important information about me that you will soon find notifying the nation on a Drinkaware television campaign in the near future.

Staring at this picture makes me feel like a kid in a candy shop.
1. Vodka. On a good night of Kinsey I'll activate a competition of verbal abuse with myself and apply it to whoever is in my company. It's usually pretty light-hearted stuff like "I hate you, I wish you were dead" or "You've never liked me and I've known it for years". Then when I'm gargling down the distilled beverage on a bad night I transform into this Rambo wannabe and by the end of the night one of my friends will ultimately end up assaulted and head first in a wheelie bin.

2. Whiskey. I might brag from time to time about being this self-classified tank, undefeated by the alcohol community. But when boozing on whiskey I get sick. I get sick on myself, I get sick on my friends and I get sick on the taxi driver. Then to capitalize on a night's worth of pain and hardship I wake up the next morning looking tragically like an extra from Star Trek, on crack.

3. Rum. A few portions of Captain Morgan flavoured super-splits forces me to cry.  Unfortunately I'll typically latch onto as many people as I can manage to during the night, whether I know them or not isn't a concern. I'll mourn out an exaggerated narrative of my life story or one I'll have seized from a film. Whatever DMCs I remember the next morning will add to a life's worth of humiliation that Miranda Hart would only gladly embezzle to accompany her weak stand-up routine or script of her self-titled comedy sitcom.

4. Wine. These fermented grapes compel me to steal. The younger and cheaper the wine is the more likely the side effects kick in. In the past I've swiped candle holders, I've robbed mini fire extinguishers and I've hijacked supermarket trolleys. Less of the judging, we have all done it.

5. Beer. This is a personal fan favourite. I have boastfully built up a competent resistance to any bizarre aftermath mood swings generated by the beverage. It does make me urinate repeatedly though, think Baby Wee-Wee gone wrong.
I've always liked That '70s Show, even more so after coming across this photograph. 

Budapest Bants

Holidays are very important for most people, they are seen as a chance of a well earned break from the stress and struggle of their everyday routine. Safe to declare, when the prospect of a vacation unfolded before me that draining day ahead of Christmas exams I grabbed that opportunity by both horns, the likelihood of refilling my fuel cells and overeating/drinking myself into oblivion was just too good to pass up. We finished our placement at the end of January so instead of lingering around for a good aul St. Brigid's day mass in the local church eight of my fellow scholars and I scampered down to Hungary in true gangnamdoggy, St. Pat's College style. Savour the following five aspects I've recited from our trip. 

1. St. Stephen's Basilica. There was once a period in my life where I was determined I would become an architect. That fantasy was quick to flee the scene when I was informed the profession required a lot of artistic photographing and philosophical examining of medieval churches and ancient buildings. It sadly did not involve me full-time designing nine story, fourteen bedroom mansions for members of my family to move into. Nonetheless, it was hard not to be impressed with this towering masterpiece. A highlight was the fresh sun-drenched view I received from the elevated balcony positioned at the top of the cathedral overlooking the entire city. It was almost as unforgettable as the three hundred and two plunging steps that eventually got me there. 

2. The night life. This blog-post ideally should be overloaded with breathtaking picturesque images of the Hungarian capital's scenery and surroundings. However, on one particular night where I was painting the town red my phone was stolen/misplaced when I was intoxicated on one too many cinnamon flavoured tequilas and thus a trip's worth of evidence exited my life. This might give you a flavour of how the evening's entertainment would usually manifest. 
  
Holiday themed montage, complimentary pouting included.

3. Thermal baths. I omitted myself from this inclusion on the itinerary because body confidence issues aside the entire notion of sharing an outdoor communal lavatory with groping strangers and a flock of pigeons just wasn't my idea of a good time. By all means watching it was way more fun. I got to both enjoy and endure all the sights and sounds that humanity had to offer without the need to pinch or pepper spray away any unwanted visitors. It was superb. I'm also very much grateful that I live in a world where naked Mondays are no longer a thing. 

4. Dracula's Castle. Although I like to regard myself as a logical and rational human being I was gorging down crates of liquidised Chicken Kievs at a startling pace prior to our entry to the city's copy of the infamous vampire's Romanian based manor. I may be forgiven considering all the squealing I overhead from horrified members of the public fully convinced that the red malt wine boiling in a cauldron outside his palace was blood. I can't really blame them considering Dracula's involvement and the overly urgent hustling from the teeth less street sellers. 

5. Outdoor skating-rink. I fail at many tourist activities. Someone once offered to usher me to the internationally recognised Newgrange attraction in county Meath to see the fascinating stone passageway and chambers at first hand. I assumed they were talking about free range chickens and that I was going to some sort of alternative animal rights inspired petting zoo. However, I have predominated the ice-skating world since being that overgrown jelly baby roller-blading dangerously around my home like a paediatric inspirited eighties American diner. Whilst in Budapest we gallivanted down to the outdoor skating rink and the eastern Europeans put my crew and I to shame. They each had their own individual ice skates and not the cheap rental ones the complex offered us, they all outperformed us on their interpretations of Torvill and Dean's bolero and they all attempted to spit at us directly in the face whilst in the midst of their daredevil head-bangers. 


The service  charges were out to rob us at every opportunity. . 

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