My roommates and I were on our way to catch the bus to take us to the airport at 3am, when a guy on the same flight as me and my friends (note: I did not say my friend) happened to talk back to some drunk Eastern European men. Big Mistake. The men didn't mean any harm at first. Me and two of my roommates had walked past them with our rolly suitcases and massive backpacks when they said to us "Where you ladies going with these guys? You'd have more fun at mine," to which this non-friend of mine (who was for some reason drunk) replied with something along the lines of "go fuck yourselves." Everyone continued walking in their respective directions and we finally found our bus stop. Ten minutes later, the two guys reappeared looking for a fight. Luckily for us, my roommate's boyfriend was with us, and is actually a professional jiu jitsu fighter. Not that we needed him to protect us or anything...because if you haven't already bought your tickets to my gun show yet, my biceps and triceps speak for themselves. Jokes aside, me and my spaghetti-arms were ready to pop a cap in some ass.
Eventually they went away, but not before I saw my whole life flash before my eyes, assuming an Eastern Promises bathroom bloodbath was about to unfold.
Lesson 50: Dublin has the best burger joint so far (aside from Burger King, obviously)
Step 1: Get that dry ice packaging stuff that the Harry & Davids stuff always comes in
Step 2: Purchase flight to Dublin from RyanAir
Step 3: Go to Bobos.
Step 4: Get 2 Dubliners.
Step 5: Eat 1 Dubliner
Step 6: Package other Dubliner on dry ice stuff
Step 7: Send package to me, as well as a thank you card and any cash donations that you feel I deserve for introducing you to the best burger ever.
Lesson 51: Hold the railing
At one of the bars on our New Europe pub crawl in Dublin, I befriended one of the bartenders. Clearly my eyes (or my pushup bra) have some sort of magical power that just grasps the attention of anyone in the service industry, most of the time to my benefit. I ran out of drink tickets quite quickly, as you would when the size of shots in Europe are 25ml as compared to the generous 1.5oz I'm used to in the states, and they were watered down. However, the powers of the Victoria's Secret "Very Sexy Ultimate Pushup" noticed I was in need and came to my aid. After a few more complementary drinks, it was time to head to the next bar. As I made my way towards the stairs, I was careful to avoid the puddle of god-knows-what that was in the middle of the floor. I dodged it with accuracy. Given I was wearing 4-inch heels, my stability and precision were that much more impressive. I made it down the first section of stairs flawlessly, having taken on each step very slowly. Once I got to the second section I figured, oh what the hell, I made it down the ones before, I can do this with ease. False. With just three more steps to go, my right heel got caught on the edge of the stair (you know--on those things that are meant to stop you from slipping). I tried to catch my balance with my left foot, only to have that one get caught on the exact same "safety" feature on the step below it. Fuck. My. Life. I fell right on my knees and essentially face-planted. Luckily for me, the complementary shots made me unaware of the massive welt-like bruise setting up camp on my left knee.
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