Sunny Days in DC

Jack of All Trades, Master of 3-ish.

Halloween in Ireland is… different.

It seems that, not so very long ago, the Irish Halloween was extremely different from the American version. There wasn’t so much candy and kids dressing up, and obviously there was a lot more cultural lore and pagan rituals than we might get in the US and Canada. Having survived my first quasi-Irish Halloween (we were sick, so we didn’t really go hardcore this year), I can honestly describe it as follows:

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1) Nail down your shit. Halloween is a night of bonfires and as much paganism as the Catholic Church will allow/people can get away with. Nail down your shit because anything that can burn will be taken and burned.

2) Get candy anyway. It used to be that teens and adults would stop by homes begging for food or drinks or whatever, saying “help keep the halloween party going!” I guess kids might have been included too, but my understanding is that this was really more for the adults. I think SOME costumes might have been involved… fairly certain lots of booze was! Anyway, just get the candy. Kids trick-or-treat nowadays, so you might as well be prepared!

3) No naked orgies to date. I know, I was a little disappointed, too, but let’s be fair: I didn’t have a sitter ready, and that’s just not the type of thing you want to have happen in your house with a sleeping toddler nearby. Say it with me moms and dads: orgies are only for when the kids are away at sleepovers.

That’s just called Good Parenting.

4) No virgin sacrifices. I don’t even know where you’d FIND one in Dublin. Good luck.

5) They set off fireworks like it’s 4th of July in the US. They’re illegal. They do it anyway. If you find missing pieces of someone’s hand, you probably should call the cops and not touch it yourself. Not that I would do that….. again.

So, that’s what I’ve learned so far. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand a quick update on my life:

A) I got a job! I just need to switch my visa status, and I am a contributing member of Irish society! FUCK YEAH!!

B) The Dublin Burlesque festival is coming up next week, and yours truly has been all a frenzy of trying to find just the right outfit. I found a wicked vintage shop, and being poor is the only thing that stopped me from buying EVERYTHING. So, I think I have my outfit and makeup together (will post a picture before we go). Now I just need the shoes. Anyone have a pair of black wingtip heels? Anyone? anyone?

Bueller?

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That one time I accidentally attended an orgy, ordered a pizza and watched cable

Sometimes, it’s tough for me to make female friends. Not that I don’t get along with women, but the conversation eventually comes around to sex (because it’s fun and squishy and burns calories!), and I so rarely share the views of other women I know. For example, did you know that there’s such as thing as “post-sex guilt”?

But… why? It’s… did they not read the line above where I said both “fun” AND “squishy”?

Yup. Guilt.

I’m a fan of my lady bits. I don’t really see a problem there. Most men I know are fans of lady bits. I mean, I don’t name mine or anything, but, you know, HUZZAH VAGINA!

And I’m not a virgin. I wasn’t when I got married. I don’t have anything against people who choose to wait, other than the fact that I think you’re missing out on exploring a side of who YOU are, but that’s a choice, and that’s cool.

And that’s generally how my attitude is about most things. I don’t do drugs. You do? Not my bag, but whatever makes you happy. I didn’t drink before I was 21. I hung out with people who did. That’s cool.

So, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that when I went to college, I ended up making friends with the on-campus drug dealer, and convincing several members of our football team to take a tap dancing class with me. I don’t know, that just seems to be how things go for me.

And yes, they were graceful as butterflies.

Anyway, I had been dating this boy for a while, and when we broke up I took it kinda hard. Like, “I’m going to sit in my room with the shades drawn, play angry-woman music, and watch episodes of Daria on MTV. Leave me alone”- hard. So, like any good friends do, mine invited me out to a house party.

“Come! You’ll love it!” they said, as I did my very best to shoot scathing looks through their eyeballs and willed their brains to explode into popcorn (I was also kinda hungry at the time, too). It didn’t work. Popcornless, I agreed to go.

The evening started off fine. It was a house. A bunch of college kids. A couple of townies. Alcohol. What could POSSIBLY go wrong? I did some shots, had a couple of drinks, and tried to loosen up. About two hours in, I was as loose as I was gonna get. That equated to mostly bored. I want to say that there were a couple of hot guys there, but I was also drunk and in college, so my judgement is highly questionable. Anyway, I went in search of my friends to see what they were up to.

This is the part where, if this were a scary movie and I was the dumb blond, you would scream “Don’t open the door to the bedroom!”

But it’s not. And I’m not blond. So I did.

On the bed was probably the fantasy of at LEAST 20 people I know. It was a mass of writhing college-age kids all doing things to each other that would make me want to shower after. And possibly use hand sanitizer. You really can’t be too careful nowadays; I hear the flu is going around.

Anyway, I opened the door on a scene out of Caligula, blinked a couple of times, and saw my host’s pants on the floor.

“Huh.” I said, with my usual eloquence.

I took his wallet. I’m not proud of that fact, and if he ever reads this: I apologize, Tim. But let’s be fair; he was busy, and I wanted a motherfucking pizza. Priorities, people.

I took the wallet, went down to the kitchen, poured myself a bailey’s, and ordered a pizza. Extra garlic butter.

As a side note, have you HAD Papa John’s garlic butter? Because YES THAT WILL MAKE YOU SKIP AN ORGY.

Anyway, I took my Bailey’s into the living room and waited for the pizza to arrive. I was SUPER excited to learn that Tim had cable (thanks Tim!), so I hung out there and waited for the orgy to end so I could catch a lift home from someone after I sprayed Lysol on them the pizza to arrive.

I kept expecting them to finish up just as the pizza arrived, and waves of panic hit me as I considered that I might have to SHARE my pizza with a bunch of horny, hungry kids.

Thankfully, they kept fucking. (Yeah, youthful endurance!)

The pizza arrived, and I watched Daria on MTV and ate pizza until the orgy finished and I sobered up. My friends couldn’t believe I didn’t join in.

“Two things,” I said, “one, I didn’t shave my legs. But two: GARLIC BUTTER!”

……………………….

Looking back, it’s a wonder I had any friends at all.

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