Sunday Funday

I bought a Dr. Pepper from the store the other day in honor of Alicia. I told her about it. Today I cracked it open to drink it. That was NOT Dr. Pepper. It was a straight up Northern Ireland sugar water bastardization with their brand name. I was almost pissed. The rest was thrown out in disgust.

As I’m typing this Aoife, Ciara, and Aine are staring at me. They tell me they don’t know anyone who can type as fast as me. I feel accomplished. “You know horses, but I know how to type freakishly fast!” Right. Cause that’s comparable. I told them I’d trade.

Today is a relaxation day. Earlier we were sitting outside talking about stud horses and other things. The conversation turned to American tourists and cultural stereotypes. Apparently lots of Americans come to Kilkenny to see leprechauns. Yeah, I didn’t think that leprechauns exist either, but a lot of American tourists do. God. My fellow countrymen buy the “Irish clothing” and walk around wearing tweed and caps. Unbeknownst to them, they provide a huge laugh for the locals. Some of Ciara’s ginger friends dressed like leprechauns one time and offered to show a group of tourists where the fairy rings are. The tourists believed them. Good lord. I was ashamed. Their American tourists sound like our Asian tourists.

I asked Aoife if I fit any American stereotypes. She said there was one that she noticed right off the bat. A common stereotype for Americans around here is that they’re not very expressive. Aoife told me that she couldn’t really read me or determine how I was feeling or what I was thinking until she knew me a little better. She says that it’s still hard because I don’t express myself with my hands or big laughs or anything like they do. Needless to say I was pretty freaking surprised. Fellow Americans have told me that I’m very expressive. I told Aoife and Ciara that and they laughed. They had a very Irish, very crude friend named Donal over the other day. He was what we would think of as the stereotypical Irishman. Aoife and Ciara told me they were surprised that I didn’t react negatively to the racist things he was saying. I told them that first of all, I couldn’t understand half of what he was going on about. Secondly, I’m used to crude and/or jokingly racist comments, so it didn’t faze me when he said scandalizing things. They accepted that. They keep thinking I’m going to be scandalized. I don’t know if I should be proud or worried that I continue to surprise them.

Maybe when the next big ginger Irish guy comes around spewing obscenities, I’ll make a scene and be like “WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD HOW DARE HE SPEAK THUSLY IN FRONT OF ME?!?!”

They probably wouldn’t believe it at this point though. Dammit.