Sunny Days in DC

Jack of All Trades, Master of 3-ish.

I don’t speak their language, and also I am now eating cheese. Lots of cheese.

on September 3, 2013

I’ve moved to Ireland, which is a nice way of saying, “HOLY CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” We were here about a week before we found an apartment (YAY!), and I was in the apartment about two weeks before I forced every mother, nanny, and random homeless woman on the playground to be my friend and show me where all the cool babies hang out. That’s right: when charm doesn’t work, I simply force you to be nice to me with my American/Jedi mind trick of offering cookies. Anyway, it worked, and Max and I hit up the local church (there’s GOBS of churches around here, you guys!) to get some quality toddler time in. Then Max pooped himself, we all sang songs (not about the poop, that would be weird), and Max passed out in a wee little toddler stupor on our way home. Mommy-win. HUZZAH! I am a stay at home mom who is no longer forced to actually STAY AT HOME.

But that’s not why you read this blog. You read it to hear the stories of the time I accidentally-on purpose flashed our tour-guide my nipples, and yelled at a half naked man on the street, and I’m not even sure why I yelled at him, because I can’t be entirely positive he was saying anything mean to me. So, let’s get into that, shall we?

After the aforementioned orgy of toddlers and toys and Barney (oh my!), Max took his afternoon nap. We had a lovely lunch of noodles and sardines (don’t judge me), and I was all, “F THIS! It’s a nice day out! We’re going to the park, kid!” and he was all, “Fuck yeah, mommy!!!” “kitty.” So I strapped him into the stroller/buggy/pram, and off we went to the park in what I can legit call some SERIOUS heat. I thought Ireland was supposed to have MILD weather! Whatever. As I turned a corner, there was this sunbathing beauty on his front lawn. And by that, I mean the man was easily in his 70’s with nipples the size of silver dollars. Since it was eleventy-billion degrees and I had burst into flames no fewer than four times since leaving the house, I had taken off my SWEATER that I had put on that morning when it was cold enough to see my breath. I was wearing a dress, so I’m not sure what the deal is, but I assume the sight of my pale flesh offended the man, although to be honest I have no idea what he yelled at me because I speak a language called ENGLISH and he yelled something at me that I can only assume was a dialect of fucking KLINGON.

“OH YEAH?!” I yelled back, because I’m a New Yorker so I do that, “Well why don’t you go slap a bra on those man-boobs?!”

Let’s all take a moment to wonder why the Diplomatic Corps refused my application, shall we?

Moving on, I located a cheese monger in Dublin. Yes, I WILL allow you a moment to giggle at the 21st century use of the word MONGER. I also have a FISH MONGER near me. I giggle constantly at that. Anyway, I went to my cheese monger and asked for Irish goat or sheep cheese.

Fact 1: Did you know Irish cheese is DELICIOUS?! Because: yes. So, SO much yes.

Fact 2: Did you know I have zero will power and the only reason I am not currently FINISHING off all the cheese I bought two days ago is because I need both hands to type? I am going to be ten thousand pounds when I leave this country. My husband and son will be able to ride me as a floatation device. If we sail home, I’ll have to worry about orcas trying to mate with me.

Also, I have to line-dry all my clothes like I’m in a Charles Dickens novel. DAMN YOU, EUROPE! YOU TAKE ALL THE GOOD CHOCOLATE, BUT YOU HAVE SHITTY LAUNDRY SERVICES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???

P.S. my posts will most likely, almost certainly, just maybe get better. Although they may not. No promises. Read at your own peril. I’m going to eat some cheese.

20 responses to “I don’t speak their language, and also I am now eating cheese. Lots of cheese.

  1. LOL I can see that old coot now. Ugly as sin yelling at you.

  2. blowingoffsteamandmore says:

    Cheese makes everything better.

  3. The old coot probably spit as he yelled, too. You would be just stellar in the diplomatic corps. Seriously.
    Really enjoy your mongering and conquering the area, the laundry is so Dickens. Survive! (we want to read more.)

    • H. Stern says:

      Dude! He looked RABID. At first, I thought he was yelling at someone across the street, and I was all, “YEAH! YOU TELL ‘EM!” and then I was like, “Wait…….. what? Me?!” It was all very confusing and I am extremely tired because

  4. Sofia Leo says:

    This post makes me want to go to Ireland so much! Cheese! Line dried clothes! I got enough man boobs here, though 🙂

    • H. Stern says:

      Well, you’d have a place to say. I must be honest though, the marketing for Ireland really does them a disservice. This place is really great, and aside from a few small hiccups, people are generally really nice. Even this drunk dude on the street was nice to me. I mean, yes, thanks for not throwing up on me, that was polite. Much appreciated. Considering how much of a pain it is to get any fucking laundry done around here!

  5. ekgo says:

    OMG! Now you’re in MY laundry territory! I will happily come wash and dry your clothing. You’re still ironing, though. I freaking LOVE line-dried clothes. I like hanging them, I like taking them down, I like clothespins…I love it all. So I will do that for you.

    • H. Stern says:

      That’s…. I’m so sorry. When did you suffer this horrible head injury? You LIKE putting it up? You LIKE taking it down? If the weather won’t comply, it takes a full DAY to wash and dry a SINGLE load of laundry. And not an AMERICAN sized load, this is like, 1/2 to 1/3 of a REAL load. And the washers here just sorta flop dirty laundry around in about a thimble’s worth amount of water because YAY ENVIRONMENT!! And once line dried, everything is stiff like cardboard. I WEAR CARDBOARD.

      • ekgo says:

        Oh, I know about the weird washing ways of the UK – the super tiny washing machines in the kitchen that will hold all of the undies for a small person and nothing else. And the cardboard! Oh, cardboard bath towels, how I love you! So much exfoliation after showering!
        Dude, you like to iron. That’s no less whack than my love of hanging the laundry. I think we’d make an awesome laundry team. At least in Ireland, we would.

  6. The cheese IS fab. Have you tried the chocolate yet? And/or chocolate biscuits? You will die! Who knows — maybe the creepy man-boobs guy was yelling something friendly?

    • H. Stern says:

      I’m hooked on Jaffa cakes. My husband’s coworker asked him to bring some back recently, and I tried one. A mistake. They’re delicious. NEVER TOUCH THE JAFFA CAKES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  7. FreeRangeCow says:

    Good luck pooping. ;oP

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