I'm feeling a bit devilish today because apparently our water heater is leaking and causing damage to the apartment below. I take a sick satisfaction upon hearing this because I detest the people underneath us since all they do is engage in domestic verbal abuse and door slamming.
So being that I'm feeling a bit mean today this is a way I can show it to you without actually drawing horns coming out of my head (which I was going to do but thought it would be fun to tell you the story as to why I'm throwing the pitchfork instead).
Pher went to Arizona State University for both his undergrad and grad degrees and he is a total Sun Devil through and through. He teaches us their "school sign" early on in his career but until his Ireland wedding, I have never seen it thrown that many times (and I even went down there for a hockey tourney in my sophomore year and don't recall the audience throwing it but that could be because we were WINNING). Pher even stands up at the reception to tell his fellow college buddies that there is a limit at the bar, then when it's up we all have to start paying for drinks. He cleverly tells them, "This event is a marathon, not a sprint." And once he concludes his thank you speech, all the Sun Devils in the room sprint to the bar and leave all of us on pace in the dust.
So when I polish off my first Smithwicks in a true "marathon pace" I make my way towards the bar. "I'll have another please," I politely say to the bartender, tip in my hand even though it's probably rude to tip like this out of the states but I do it anyway. The bartender places my brew in front of me and tells me it will cost me.
Like hell it will.
I make my way across the room to complain to dad. He is being "Ireland Wedding Dad" and totally doesn't care about my plight. I then bring my case to anyone who will listen, rile up the masses until I am satisfied with their belligerence, and then take it to the groom. We are only two hours into the reception and already his buddies (who, don't get me wrong, are definitely a fun time and still likeable after this) have successfully figured out a way to drink all night for free. They have designated a table to place all of the drinks they have collected from the bar and keep going back there when in need of another beverage. I am tempted to take from this table too (or knock it over) but choose to bring it to Pher's attention.
Pher really doesn't care about my dilemma of not getting to the bar fast enough for free drinks. Without having an appropriate way to release my frustration, I throw his Sun Devils sign in his face and yell, "THE DEVILS!!! BLAAAHHHHHH!" This then prompts him to get defensive. When Pher gets defensive he turns his body to the side, puffs out his chest and arms, and tries to find the words to yell back at you but usually only the F-bomb emerges with a U after it. Dad eventually sees this mature display of sibling love, gets between us, and gives me a bunch of Euros for the bar to shut me up.
It definitely works and by the early morning we are all happily [drunkenly] singing [slurring] Piano Man and all is good in the world...until we have to get on that bus to see the Cliffs of Moher four hours later and I need a Dramamine [hangover cure] badly.
2 comments:
LMAO!!!! Ireland Wedding Dad!! Bwahahahahah! So funny. I think you told the story brillantly (as Anna would say). I'm also laughing because I hate your neighbors downstairs too. I also hate the loser that works for your apartment complex. What I would like to see is so much water pouring out that it ruins the rug and floor and therefore the floor gets a hole and the people downstairs can look up and see that the ceiling has fallen on them. But alas...then the dog would start to bark.
HAHAHAHA.... yes... your neighbors suck and I loved your Ireland story!
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