Now I have spoken highly of my favorite Australian mate Laura who brings such fun to the group. Plus I continuously thrive off all things Australian. This week's Australian lesson: FOOTIE. Yep, that's Australian for football. Which is neither soccer nor American football. More like every sport rolled into one. The ball is a cross between a rugby ball and a football. You have to dribble like basketball and kick like soccer. And you can tackle like football and fight like hockey. All with no pads or helmets. Talk about brutality. I'm sorry but American athletes just look like wimps after this.
After another group meeting and class and a group meeting, we met to head into the city centre on the Dub Bus. We got off and found our way thanks to Laura's navigation. I took a day off from leading the pack, and Stacy was a little frightened when I didn't assume directional control. No worries, we saw the Foster's sign and we knew we'd arrived at the Woolshed. Playing a repeat of the Footie game between Carlton and Richmond (or like we like to call them: Carl and Rich). After convincing the doorman to find us a table and get the TV to play the Aussie Rules game for us (in large part to the fact that he could tell I was an American Sorority girl from my DZ rain jacket), we sat down and ordered some dinner. We were starving. We enjoyed all the Australian references on the menu (like Chook...which is their word for Chicken?).
Laura could barely wait for us to finish ordering to start explaining the rules to us. Most important, she showed off the fine looking tan Australian men. Hmm... we all decided we've been in Ireland too long because the Australians were looking awfully good. Land of Gerald Butlers is a big fat lie, and all we see is pale boys who wear nothing but sweatpants. All the time. It seems that the concept of jeans and a casual tee was lost upon these boys. Instead they rock the track suit look and shirts that scream things like "What Woman Want". Now I'm not sure what woman said THAT was what she wanted, but if you are declaring it, I'm not believing it. Anyway, upon the confirmation of the tan and well shaped bods of the Australians, we began to plan our future trips to Australia. Now our saving for this trip will begin in small ways. Saving 20 cents on bus rides for example. Small steps.
Like I explained before, Footie is intense. Getting tackled, flying through the air, all with no pads of ANY kind on. And little shorty shorts on. After enjoying our BLTs we continued to watch the game intensely and try to figure out the rules of the game. We also noted how the referee looked like he should be working at Burger King, he was surely dressed for it. Mostly paying attention to things like how the one captain got suspended for "gauging someone's eyes" or streaking through the local casino in Melbourne. Ah Australia, how we love thee already. Except for one thing. Well maybe two. Dredlocks, don't get them, never will. But more importantly, VEGEMITE. Now this place we were at was an attempt to be an Australian Bar...and from the Foster's signs everywhere, very authentic (not). So on the menu, was vegemite and toast. Now I've never seen Laura so excited. When it came, it looked like tar. Even after seeing Stevie's face of disgust, I decided to try a bit. When I said it looked like tar, I mean it actually tasted like tar as well. Like REALLY, what is that stuff?!!? And Laura she eats it when she's not feeling well....I think that would make me more nauseous. I'll stick to my saltines and ginger ale, thank you very much.
We were having a great time and Claire, Kristina, and Carolyn stopped by. It had turned out to be a rainy Dublin night, perfect for barstooling it. We felt bad that we were occupying prime real estate, so when we saw a girl walk by with a pitcher of something fruity and frothy looking, we considered a little Thursday Happy Hour. Interested in what the woman had, Stevie did what any normal Dubliner would do, she went up and asked the woman. Within 2 minutes, I'm pretty sure Stevie had her and her husband/boyfriend/brother?!?'s life story and they offered her a taste of the drink. She chatted it up with them for a few minutes upon which I glanced over a few times, only to have the guy wink at me. Ah Dublin, how the people always surprise you. We ended up ordering this drink in pitcher form (a Foster's pitcher no less) after debating all the Woop Woop Drinks and "Shit on the Grass" shots. Some type of "Sex on the Byron Beach" mostly peach, cranberry, and orange juice I think. Pure sugar for sure. It only made us laugh harder when we discovered the place started to "smell like Berlin"...the fragrance of sewage we'd come to find in the streets of Berlin.
The footie game finished and given it was Thursday night, the Wicked Wolf in Blackrock was calling our name. We made our way in the rain to the bus stop to catch the 4 from the city centre to the Wicked Wolf. As we sat on the bus, Laura talked about her experience with America and her joyous time in Fairbury, Illinois where she "stayed in the basement all day and watched a CSI marathon" and "went to the Dairy Queen a lot". Upon asking what WE do in our free time in Illinois, we said well umm... that. CSI marathons and Dairy Queen. Not quite porcupine/kangaroo hybrids. She did ask about crop circles and bears. Umm we have neither in Champaign but good try?
And on to the Wicked Wolf. Stevie had yet to experience the joy. And she picked a good night to experience the rough side of hanging out at a local Irish establishment. The place was hopping when we arrived at 10. Now it's usually a little slow get started, but not tonight. Brock started the night out with an early dedication to Stacy, reminicising on last week, and belted out "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room" again. Wonderful. Going to be a good night already. The locals were ready to rock, and when I mean rock, I mean 4 Oasis songs in a row. We knew it was going to be a good night when some locals convinced their friend (or grandpa) Jim to get on stage and sing. Now Jim was rather drunk, like out of consciousness drunk, and he literally stumbled to the stage. His grandson basically had to hold him up there while he sang Return to Sender. Now his voice was good, but he kept messing up the words which is hard to do given they are on a screen in front of your face. It was almost painful to watch. At one point, I was afraid he was going to fall over, because he was leaning down, and I swear he was going to topple over. He did not. He returned to his seat and then I'm pretty sure Eugene called him a cab.
The locals were tearing it up (not in a good way...in a butchering "Living On A Prayer" way) and I kept looking to Brock with the "umm come on now" face. When we turned in our song slips, he moved them towards the front. He called us to the stage as his "favorite 4 girls from America" (Laura quickly corrected him) and we rocked it out to none other than Wannabe by the Spice Girls. A crowd favorite for sure, and soon all of the girls joined us on stage.The stage was flooded and we belted out "I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna really wanna zigga zigga ah". Brock put on "Oops I Did It Again" (the 2nd time I've sang that song in the Wicked Wolf) and Lauren and her flash dance ways were loving on it and us and swaying back and forth with me. She told me how brilliant it was and gave me a hug. We even got Allistar (THE X FACTOR HIMSELF) to join in with us. We definitely started the party.
Then Stevie slowed it down for a bit with some Whitney. I Will Always Love You. As one of the locals said to me "it's like watching the Bodyguard". We were slow dancing and waving our arms and singing along in support. And then Allistar got on stage and sang the one, the only, Michael Jackson "You Are Not Alone". The song I got confused with "Will You Be There?" as the Free Willy anthem. Such a jam. Both me and Brock were snapping it out and loving it. Then Allistar's love Sam got up in her combat boots and did one heck of a rendition of Beautiful by Akon. She put my rapping skills to shame. We made friends with this Australian guy who loved Stevie's voice. And then he was up, singing the one and only "I Come From The Land Down Under". Yep, we got up and danced and sang along in this little pub to "The Land Down Under" with our Aussie Mate in Dublin. It was ridiculous. We were out on the dance floor dancing, Australian style.
Maybe the follow up to the Land Down Under was even better. Barbie Girl by Aqua. Sam, Lauren, and their friend got up there and rocked it out. Ah America.
Before we knew it, it was almost 12 and Eugene was flicking the "last call" lights. Brock had promised Stacy that he would sing "The End of The Road" for her. Maybe more embarrassing (or awesome) is that Brock caught onto our X factor symbol that me and Stacy had been quick to throw up whenever necessary. And a few times we caught him doing it too. He recruited Allistar to the stage and they duetted to the End of the Road. We jammed out on the floor, belting it out.
Closing time, and we stuck around to talk with Brock. We told him about our semesters at UCD and how we are going to miss him when we go back to Chicago. He told us about his company and how maybe he will make it to Chicago one day. We promised him we would promote his future music endeavors. Then we told him about our trip to Paris next weekend but that'd we'd return the following week. Groupies for sure.
It was time for Supermac's. The late night Thursday tradition. Embarrassing that the guys working there recognized us and our good time ways. I had an ice cream cone, still full from dinner and my throat a little sore from the cold I'm fighting off and the belting of the songs. Our friends from karaoke walked in and we laughed at the fact that we know are friends with the local Thursday night karaoke goers. More or less embarrassing than the Supermac guys recognizing us? We finished our food (except for Stacy's fries, which Stevie told her to save for tomorrow??!) , and we managed to keep most of the ketchup in the appropriate places. Laura on the other hand acquired some type of "mole" on her neck and I was quick to point it out, while Stevie and Stacy thought it was an actual mole and that I was just blatantly rude.
We got into a cab (after the supermac's guy-- we should really find out his name--offered to call one for us). The guy was super friendly and we told him all about the Wicked Wolf. He wasn't familiar. He dropped us off at the Foster's Ave Gate and we walked (in that beautiful Dublin rain) to our apartments. And then all the reasons I love Laura became apparent. She found a wrapped piece of chocolate on the sidewalk (in the rain) and picked it up. We all yelled GROSS and she threw it away, but she was tempted. Someone who loves chocolate more than me, I'm not sure it's possible.
Exhausted, I crawled into bed. Another successful Dublin Night. Thursday Nights at the Wicked Wolf just make life seem so easy.
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