gps and west virginia can suck it

After travelling the world, driving through remote areas of of New Zealand, riding on elephants in Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia, maneuvering around cows on tiny roads with rock walls inevitably too close for comfort in Ireland, I did not think it too much of a big deal to drive to west VA to visit a friend.

jaysus christ was i wrong. Let me just preface this story with the statement: I swear to god I confirmed my choice of direction with two very knowledgeable dudes who know GPS units and are considerably not retarded.

My kind brother let me borrow his fancy Audi to make the trip, thinking that the GPS would in fact help me navigate rather than send me to a potential bloody death reminiscent of Deliverance.

I have absolutely no qualms with saying that WV completely sucks and should be wiped off the face of the earth. If I were to make sweeping generalizations, which I do, I would say that 99.67% of WV inhabitants are scary red-necked bubbas with absolutely no idea what really goes on in any other part of the world apart from hunting, driving massive trucks and being generally ignorant and mostly racist.

Oh, and they also don't like to post road signs, making for a very interesting driving experience when you include a non functioning GPS and complete darkness.

I chose the 'most direct route' as opposed to the 'main route' offered by my brothers lovely GPS which I recently renamed satans baby killer. The main route just looked sooooo unbelievably far out of the way and like I said, two others agreed.

So off I went on what was supposed to be a 4.5 hour trip. Six and a half hours later after cringing, crying, swearing, hitting satans baby killer over and over I 'arrived" at my destination. But wait, whats this? um no I haven't, in fact I'm in the middle of nowhere STILL, even though satan insists I have arrived!



I see a tiny very skeevy bar called Mavericks and have no choice but to go in and ask for directions. (Oh yeah also at this point after pressing a million buttons on satans screen I accidentally changed the language setting to french so at this point I really have no fucking idea whats going on).

I had to go through a parking lot of pick up trucks and three security doors to enter the bar, thinking I was about to enter a porn barn of strippers and bubbas I was certainly freaked out. The fact that the song from Deliverance rang over and over in my head didn't help either.

Turns out it was a casino bar with a bunch of one armed bandits, so big whew there. The bartender knew exactly where I was going and told me I was about 15 miles away. Thank god.

I pull up at my hotel and the place is packed! It was some massive convention center with a hotel attached. Upon parking I notice a man with a lay around his neck staggering and careening towards my car looking like a character from Shawn of the Dead and grabbing his crotch. Seriously WHERE am I?

While checking in I tell the receptionists my never ending story of my battle with backwoods WV and they all laugh, when I mention the zombie crotch grabber in the parking lot, they inform me that he was just ejected from a wedding for peeing off a balcony. Run to room immediately. drink wine. hide under covers.

The next day after seeing my friend, on the way home Pierre the baby killer kept telling me to get off on every single exit in french and go back to my destination which he apparently really really wanted to be a weird casino bar in the middle of the woods in WV. Also I couldn't figure out how to reset or turn it off, the ENTIRE way home.

hawesome.

virginia is for lovers, richmond is for murderers

Well that's what one bumper sticker says, but I will have to go ahead and disagree.

Richmond could not be anymore fun.

Aside from everywhere being a high school reunion, parties, concerts, horse races, and fun at waugh-co with the lunatic family I have been working like crazy, albeit not legitimately.

I decided to forgo lying to all my friends who were helping me find a 'real job' in advertising so as to not burn any bridges. Everyone now knows I will be moving to NZ in October and have ceased my search for a realistic career path for the next 6 months. In the meantime I'm 18 years old again and coaching gymnastics, working for my mom and her friends in their gardens, moving furniture, helping my brother re-model his home, and freelancing for a friend in advertising. Because seriously, who really wants annoying things like health insurance getting in the way.

Enjoy some pics from Richmond, and to all you NYers let us know when you want to visit! We promise an action packed weekend of rednecks, beer and crazy fun lesbians.

Geffrey spastic dancing part 1:


Geoffrey spastic dancing part 2:


Lisa gettin it on:


Me and my best friend, beer.


Geoffrey and Kelly making ugly faces...hey! thay can't help it!


'mehh', this bush is hard:


Lydia humping bush...


My baby Cameron mack-daddy'in'it as per usual:


My Dad's B-day partay:


Brothers and nephews, gotta love em:

Ireland part Deux

Tracy and I are currently in the process of packing up her apartment, cleaning and staging the place so that she can try to get rid of it, so I thought that I would use this blog as an excuse to be lazy and take a break.

The rest of Ireland was a whole mishmosh of crazy drunk Irish people (and a few crazy drunk Americans, if you can believe that), and enough beautiful countryside to convince Tracy and I that we have to live in Ireland for a little while. The draught bulmers might have something to do with it, too. But more so the incredible views, I promise.

Of course, as always is the case with Ireland, the pictures won't do it justice, but we'll throw a few at you anyways.

First stop after the rock of Cashel was Glengarriff, a teeny tiny town in the Beara Peninsula, which, due to the fact that everything shuts down by 10PM, meant that we exposed the ladies to their first ever hostel and stayed in for a night of cards and wine (the night in which we discovered that Ann might be a little crazy, but of course the photo I have proves that I might be too):



Then we had a full two days in Killarney, where we went horseback riding and drove the Ring of Kerry, enjoying the views of Killarney National Park:



In Killarney we proved why Tracy and I typically didn't go out for dinner, when at a nice Indian restaurant we demonstrated our mating techniques:


On our way out of Killarney, we stopped at my favorite castle (you know, because everyone has to have a favorite castle in their lives), Ross Castle:


Then up to Lahinch, stopping for lunch in the town in which Ann's family live. She was concerned that she would be recognized and yelled at for not telling people she was coming, so I gave her a disguise:


We went to Lahinch with the original intention of learning to surf from our friend Eddie that we met in New Zealand, but after deciding that surfing in that weather might actually prove that we're mentally unstable, we bailed on that and instead spent the time getting to know some of the locals:


In the above is Eddie and Norman, who is NOT a leprochaun (as he told us many, many times). He did become quite fond of Ann, and insisted she send an email to herself on her blackberry from him:

----- Original Message -----
From: Ann
To: Ann
Sent: Fri Mar 28 23:10:12 2008
Subject: Norman Cleary

I think u r cute. Annie. It was very nice meeting you.


Thus resulting in the second funniest thing to appear on Ann's blackberry.

The next morning we got up to check out the dramatic Cliffs of Moher:


Then a drive through the gorgeous Burren, where we only had one traffic jam:


And stopped at Poulnabroune Dolmen, an ancient wedge tomb:


We had one night in Galway, and then had to say goodbye to Lisa, Laura and Lauren. Ann, Amy, Tracy and I jumped on a boat out to Inismor, the largest of the Aran Islands, and went back to losing our minds in order to view the waves crashing below Dun Angus:




We also stopped by Norman's house, but he wasn't home:


Just kidding, Norman! All Irish men are not leprochauns!

Then had the weirdest night out ever in Ennis, in which a girl almost convinced us to change our flight and stay in Ireland for another week. I think she might have had a few drinks in her.

Definitely want to thank Ann, Amy, Lisa, Laura and Lauren for flying in to meet us, it was an incredible week and so much fun having you all with us:








See you in Russia 2010 ladies!

In the meantime, I've finally figured out how to repay my credit card- becoming a burglar. How do you think I'd do?


-Posted by Katie

We're not done yet!

Actually, Tracy, not only will we continue the blog for future stories, but actually we haven't finished telling all the stories from the trip yet. And yes, I'm discussing this with her on the blog even though she's just in the other room (apparently 3 months together was not enough and I've temporarily moved into her flat in Bronxville).

I realized we haven't finished with all the Ireland stories, because again we are a curse on all cameras and after mine called it quits (though, looking at the number of photos I've taken in sand storms, rain and snow, the title of this blog really should be "How To Destroy Your Camera In Only 10 Days"), Tracy's memory card failed her.

So now we're waiting to steal all the other ladies' photos, and should have a second Ireland post ready by Sunday.

In the meantime, I leave you with a little story of polite requests and belligerent drunks:

The second night out in Dublin as a group, Ann left the bar a little early and realized she left something behind. Knowing that Lisa still remained, she sent her a text message. It went a little something like this:

------ SMS Text ------
From: Ann
To: Lisa
Sent: Mar 24, 2008 9:48 PM
Subject: Please grab my fuzzy black scarf...

Please grab my fuzzy black scarf and I will get tomorrow from you.
Thanks.

------ SMS Text ------
From: Lisa
To: Ann
Sent: Mar 24, 2008 10:06 PM
Subject: Fuck you yu fuking whore

Fuck you yu fuking whore






Peace out!
Katie

Oh yeah and as a reminder, for all you in NY this Saturday, try to make it to O'Hara's for a few drinks (change of location!). Call if you need help with directions.

london is fucking huge

So in about the same time it took for us to fly from, oh I don't know SINGAPORE TO LONDON, it took us to get from Gatwick airport to Brixton London. 5 hours is just too unbelievably long to get across one city.

Katie's high school friend Bing was nice enough to let us stay with him in Brixton on our very last night of our travels. We only had about 20 hours to kill before our flight home the next day so minus 12 of those travelling to and from AIRPORTS we literally only had time for dinner.

We met up with my softball buddy Pat I used to work with who transferred to Mindshare London last year. Had a blast catching up, its so amazing to see familiar faces in such crazy places.

So no pictures of Big Ben or the Tower of London, we simply could'nt be arsed. Here's Pat and I. Katie for whatever reason failed to get picture with Bing. Damn cider!





Don't go anywhere folks, we are not done with our journey just yet. Katie is off to St. Martin next month with her sister and I'm away to make some money in Richmond VA, yeefuckinghaww!

-Posted by Tracy