So to get in the Christmas spirit, I found my second favorite Christmas commercial shown over here. The first one involves people singing while they go through a McDonald's drive thru to the tune of 12 Days of Christmas.
My second favorite though is the Marks and Spencer singalong. Because really any commercial involving Twiggy, the Bee Gees and overt movie references to classic song and dance movies I am bound to enjoy it.
In other noteworthy news (to a very small population ie. me), I was asked for the second time since I have been here if I'm Polish. Despite my actual Irish heritage, apparently I look Polish. Go figure.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Ice Ice Baby
Nobody does black ice like the Irish. Ireland and the United Kingdom have received a massive amount of snow in the past week and it looks like the Arctic Spell is not going to let up for another week. Edinburgh airport has essentially been shut down for a week. 5000 tonnes of salt have been used on Irish roads. Passengers were stranded on an abandoned train yesterday in West Sussex. Basically, it's a mess.
And one that is not likely to get better anytime soon. Ireland has pre-ordered salt coming in from Turkey and Egypt....but it isn't getting here for another two weeks. As someone big and important said but I can't remember the name "we are not going to salt every road in the country, only those to keep the national network."
I happen to live on one of the so-called unsalted roads. It's as if the Irish motto is "just say no" to walking anywhere safely. So this morning I thought I had class (turns out I didn't but I didn't check my email early enough to find this out). I leave my apartment. Issue 1: I can't get out of the complex. I essentially slide on my sneakers out of the complex and manage to turn before going into the road. Now I know how to walk on ice. I grew up in an area where winter involves ice. I learned though that a sheet of ice on a hill is a whole different ballgame.
I manage to make it down to class by essentially waddling down a hill. It was a good look, I can assure you. I had on sneakers but really when the the ground is a sheet of ice it really doesn't matter what shoes you have on. Although the two Irish girls who had stiletto boots on seemed to be having more trouble than others. They literally were tottering down the hill and grabbing onto windowsills. They were laughing, I was laughing. It was ridiculous but funny. So I make it down to my now-canceled class. Once I realize that class was not going to happen, I decided to get myself a coffee and trek back to the apartment. Coffee+ice+hill = not a good idea.
The walk back to my apartment was treacherous. Absolutely treacherous. Coffee was flying everywhere as I would slip and catch myself. I essentially had to side step up a hill. I was the one now grabbing onto windowsills, bushes, poles, anything I could grab. And then I would fall again as the windowsills would be covered in ice. But I gotta say I had an absolute blast because really where is the fun in being able to just walk to class and not feel like you are participating in an obstacle course?
In other big news, as I'm sure everyone knows, Russia and Qatar are the two next World Cup hosts. We got to see it from the primarily English perspective as that is where our news comes from. As can be imagined, the Brits were not too thrilled about being voted out in the first round. Particularly after they sent Beckham, Cameron and Prince William to speak. Personally I don't see why Russia should get an Olympics and a World Cup within the same decade but that's me.
Anyway while reading my free Irish Times this morning (which had lovely coffee stains on the front page due to the walk back home) there was an article that was funnier that I will ever be at describing the World Cup decision so I decided to enclose it.
SO THEN, D-Day,
Russia v England v Netherlands/Belgium v Spain/Portugal. A decent line-up, it has to be said, pity the poor old Fifa executive committee members who had to choose between the highest bidders. Highest in terms of merit, of course.
It must have been tougher still after they’d witnessed such emotional presentations in the morning. Andrey Arshavin and David Beckham, in particular, yanked Fifa’s heartstrings for all they were worth. The cynics say these presentations count for nowt, but surely they underestimate the Fifa lads’ sensibility?
“I could never ’ave managed what I’ve achieved froo football – I owe my life, everyfing I ’ave to football,” said Beckham, while Arshavin tearfully begged Fifa to believe in Russia, as his coach, when he was a wayward young fella, had believed in him.
“I was not the easiest kid to manage when I was little,” he conceded. (“WAS??” hollered Arsene Wenger in front of his north London telly).
It was Nethergium, though, who kick-started the proceedings, with Johan Cruyff, Ruud Gullit, Guus Hiddink and a blast from the goalkeeping past, Jean-Marie Pfaff (still permed after all these years), as their star line-up. Ruud promised us a green World Cup and two million bikes for fans, enough to earn a standing ovation from Fifa.
Kidding.
Eurosport dragged a Dutch journalist, Edwin Struis, out in to the cold to ask for his verdict on the Nethergium presentation: a chirpy thumbs up. He was particularly impressed by Hiddink’s contribution – which, curiously enough, was accompanied by the Monkees’ I’m a Believer .
“He’s a global trotter,” said Edwin of Guus, “they know him all the world, he’s a famous guy.”
Alas, Edwin was less kind about Spatugal’s effort, reckoning it was “like a tourism advertorial” – “It’s the World Championship of football, not the World Championship of tourism.”
Spanish journalist Francesc Aguilar begged not to differ. “I think it was a disaster,” he sighed, although, in fairness, Spanish executive committee member Angel Maria Villar Llona had, at least, tried to introduce some levity to the proceedings by declaring: “Fifa is a clean institution! Fifa works honestly!”
Hats off to the fella, he had them rolling in the aisles.
Alas, injury prevented Cristiano Ronaldo from travelling to Zurich, but he was good enough to send a message, in which he insisted that “Portugal and Spain are like brothers”. And with that the Iberian peninsula was united in mirth.
Next up, England – William and the two Daves their three lions.
Manchester City community worker Eddie Afekafe did his bit too, but all eyes were on Becks, as they had been at that press conference the day before. One of the more searching questions put to him was: “How do you manage to stay so beautiful?”
It was a fair question, one for which Becks had no answer, but he was far from tongue-tied when putting England’s case.
Russia, too, put up a good show, not least Olympic pole vault champion Yelena Isinbayeva, who credited Sepp Blatter and the boys with boosting the women’s game.
“My message to you, dear gentlemens, is a simple one: thank you,” she purred.
Then Russia’s bid chief had a bit of a go at Sir Winston Churchill, and we were done.
Decision time. “Over to you, Matthew Amroliwala,” said Gabby Logan, presenter of the BBC’s coverage of the shindig.
“Prince William has just arrived and he said ‘fingers crossed’,” Matthew told Gabby.
“Thanks Matthew,” she said.
Finally, out came Sepp.
“This game has a value,” he told the audience, which nodded knowingly. “Football is not only about winning, it is also a school of life where you learn to lose,” he said, his stare drifting a little towards William and the two Daves.
Out with the envelope. Well, that’s a stunner: Russia!
Mind you, if star power did the trick in this type of carry-on, Chicago would be hosting the 2016 Olympic Games.
Just the two votes, then, and one of them from former English FA chairman Geoff Thompson.
The consensus? Panorama should live out its days in the Tower of London.
Oh, not to forget the 2022 bidding contest. Well, it’d hardly be Qatar, deemed “high risk” by the Fifa inspection team.
Over to you Sepp.
“The winner is . . . Qatar!”
Russia and Qatar it is, then. Lovely. Almost 50,000,000 Google hits combined when you tap in “human rights abuses”.
Crikey, what you wouldn’t give for Fifa to be WikiLeaked.
And one that is not likely to get better anytime soon. Ireland has pre-ordered salt coming in from Turkey and Egypt....but it isn't getting here for another two weeks. As someone big and important said but I can't remember the name "we are not going to salt every road in the country, only those to keep the national network."
I happen to live on one of the so-called unsalted roads. It's as if the Irish motto is "just say no" to walking anywhere safely. So this morning I thought I had class (turns out I didn't but I didn't check my email early enough to find this out). I leave my apartment. Issue 1: I can't get out of the complex. I essentially slide on my sneakers out of the complex and manage to turn before going into the road. Now I know how to walk on ice. I grew up in an area where winter involves ice. I learned though that a sheet of ice on a hill is a whole different ballgame.
I manage to make it down to class by essentially waddling down a hill. It was a good look, I can assure you. I had on sneakers but really when the the ground is a sheet of ice it really doesn't matter what shoes you have on. Although the two Irish girls who had stiletto boots on seemed to be having more trouble than others. They literally were tottering down the hill and grabbing onto windowsills. They were laughing, I was laughing. It was ridiculous but funny. So I make it down to my now-canceled class. Once I realize that class was not going to happen, I decided to get myself a coffee and trek back to the apartment. Coffee+ice+hill = not a good idea.
The walk back to my apartment was treacherous. Absolutely treacherous. Coffee was flying everywhere as I would slip and catch myself. I essentially had to side step up a hill. I was the one now grabbing onto windowsills, bushes, poles, anything I could grab. And then I would fall again as the windowsills would be covered in ice. But I gotta say I had an absolute blast because really where is the fun in being able to just walk to class and not feel like you are participating in an obstacle course?
In other big news, as I'm sure everyone knows, Russia and Qatar are the two next World Cup hosts. We got to see it from the primarily English perspective as that is where our news comes from. As can be imagined, the Brits were not too thrilled about being voted out in the first round. Particularly after they sent Beckham, Cameron and Prince William to speak. Personally I don't see why Russia should get an Olympics and a World Cup within the same decade but that's me.
Anyway while reading my free Irish Times this morning (which had lovely coffee stains on the front page due to the walk back home) there was an article that was funnier that I will ever be at describing the World Cup decision so I decided to enclose it.
Three lions but just two votes as Sepp and the boys play it, um, safe
MARY HANNIGAN
WORLD CUP 2018/ 2022 BIDDING: ON THE COUCH: Pity the Fifa committee members who had to choose between the highest bidders. Highest in merit, of courseSO THEN, D-Day,
Russia v England v Netherlands/Belgium v Spain/Portugal. A decent line-up, it has to be said, pity the poor old Fifa executive committee members who had to choose between the highest bidders. Highest in terms of merit, of course.
It must have been tougher still after they’d witnessed such emotional presentations in the morning. Andrey Arshavin and David Beckham, in particular, yanked Fifa’s heartstrings for all they were worth. The cynics say these presentations count for nowt, but surely they underestimate the Fifa lads’ sensibility?
“I could never ’ave managed what I’ve achieved froo football – I owe my life, everyfing I ’ave to football,” said Beckham, while Arshavin tearfully begged Fifa to believe in Russia, as his coach, when he was a wayward young fella, had believed in him.
“I was not the easiest kid to manage when I was little,” he conceded. (“WAS??” hollered Arsene Wenger in front of his north London telly).
It was Nethergium, though, who kick-started the proceedings, with Johan Cruyff, Ruud Gullit, Guus Hiddink and a blast from the goalkeeping past, Jean-Marie Pfaff (still permed after all these years), as their star line-up. Ruud promised us a green World Cup and two million bikes for fans, enough to earn a standing ovation from Fifa.
Kidding.
Eurosport dragged a Dutch journalist, Edwin Struis, out in to the cold to ask for his verdict on the Nethergium presentation: a chirpy thumbs up. He was particularly impressed by Hiddink’s contribution – which, curiously enough, was accompanied by the Monkees’ I’m a Believer .
“He’s a global trotter,” said Edwin of Guus, “they know him all the world, he’s a famous guy.”
Alas, Edwin was less kind about Spatugal’s effort, reckoning it was “like a tourism advertorial” – “It’s the World Championship of football, not the World Championship of tourism.”
Spanish journalist Francesc Aguilar begged not to differ. “I think it was a disaster,” he sighed, although, in fairness, Spanish executive committee member Angel Maria Villar Llona had, at least, tried to introduce some levity to the proceedings by declaring: “Fifa is a clean institution! Fifa works honestly!”
Hats off to the fella, he had them rolling in the aisles.
Alas, injury prevented Cristiano Ronaldo from travelling to Zurich, but he was good enough to send a message, in which he insisted that “Portugal and Spain are like brothers”. And with that the Iberian peninsula was united in mirth.
Next up, England – William and the two Daves their three lions.
Manchester City community worker Eddie Afekafe did his bit too, but all eyes were on Becks, as they had been at that press conference the day before. One of the more searching questions put to him was: “How do you manage to stay so beautiful?”
It was a fair question, one for which Becks had no answer, but he was far from tongue-tied when putting England’s case.
Russia, too, put up a good show, not least Olympic pole vault champion Yelena Isinbayeva, who credited Sepp Blatter and the boys with boosting the women’s game.
“My message to you, dear gentlemens, is a simple one: thank you,” she purred.
Then Russia’s bid chief had a bit of a go at Sir Winston Churchill, and we were done.
Decision time. “Over to you, Matthew Amroliwala,” said Gabby Logan, presenter of the BBC’s coverage of the shindig.
“Prince William has just arrived and he said ‘fingers crossed’,” Matthew told Gabby.
“Thanks Matthew,” she said.
Finally, out came Sepp.
“This game has a value,” he told the audience, which nodded knowingly. “Football is not only about winning, it is also a school of life where you learn to lose,” he said, his stare drifting a little towards William and the two Daves.
Out with the envelope. Well, that’s a stunner: Russia!
Mind you, if star power did the trick in this type of carry-on, Chicago would be hosting the 2016 Olympic Games.
Just the two votes, then, and one of them from former English FA chairman Geoff Thompson.
The consensus? Panorama should live out its days in the Tower of London.
Oh, not to forget the 2022 bidding contest. Well, it’d hardly be Qatar, deemed “high risk” by the Fifa inspection team.
Over to you Sepp.
“The winner is . . . Qatar!”
Russia and Qatar it is, then. Lovely. Almost 50,000,000 Google hits combined when you tap in “human rights abuses”.
Crikey, what you wouldn’t give for Fifa to be WikiLeaked.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Not a "Stairway" to Heaven
Every once in a while I have these grand plans to learn one new thing every day. Usually these grand plans fail relatively quickly but every once in a while I go in learning spurts. Like since I've been in Ireland, I've learned how to make a turkey, how to pack for a weekend in just a backpack, how to pronounce Irish names and the rules of Gaelic Football to name just a few.
But part of learning new things is trial by error. Sometimes in order to learn, you may fail in the process.
And today failure happened....
with the StairMaster.
Yes, that same StairMaster that is ubiquitous in gyms around the world.
During one of my rare bouts of exercise enthusiasm, I went to the gym today. Now as previously discussed I'm not a huge fan of gyms and so I'm a bit behind the curve when it comes to gym equipment. For example, the treadmill. Seemingly simple, right? Not when you are an outside runner by experience and so when you turn to talk to your friend, you forget that the machine is still running beneath you and you may or may not have flown off several times.
But finally I felt comfortable enough with the treadmill, I was a pro at the bikes and I could mostly figure out the weight situation. It was time to master the Stair Master. First problem, the machine asked for my weight...in kilograms. I've been writing papers for days and my fried brain could not compute conversions. I did a random guess. No idea if it was correct or not.
So I got on the machine and I tried walking up and down. It's a machine that is supposed to mimic stairs, how hard could this be? And then that moment that I fear in the gyms happens. When you are trying to look confident on this contraption, some person who works at the gym kindly walks up to you and gently asks "has anyone showed you how to to work this machine?" So she attempted to show me, and said a bunch of stuff about compression and to take baby steps and don't lift my feet off the pedals (which is incredibly difficult for runners). I was told to loosen my hips and knees and then she stood there watching. While it was a necessary intervention, I still felt awkward. I tried my best and finally she was satisfied enough that she left. So okay, I think I have the hang of this. I supposedly have walked up 7 floors and am averaging a floor a minute. Sweet. Yay, gym success! .... Then the machine kept thinking that I wasn't on it anymore and kept asking me to resume the routine while I'm attempting to walk. Finally the beeping noise every 30 seconds was making me feel self-conscious and declared defeat. On the plus side, I was a bike fiend today. Not enough that the Tour De France will happen but maybe I can find a niche at gyms.
So in conclusion, I may or may not go back to the Stairmaster. I'm sure there is some other contraption in the gym I could try...
But part of learning new things is trial by error. Sometimes in order to learn, you may fail in the process.
And today failure happened....
with the StairMaster.
Yes, that same StairMaster that is ubiquitous in gyms around the world.
During one of my rare bouts of exercise enthusiasm, I went to the gym today. Now as previously discussed I'm not a huge fan of gyms and so I'm a bit behind the curve when it comes to gym equipment. For example, the treadmill. Seemingly simple, right? Not when you are an outside runner by experience and so when you turn to talk to your friend, you forget that the machine is still running beneath you and you may or may not have flown off several times.
But finally I felt comfortable enough with the treadmill, I was a pro at the bikes and I could mostly figure out the weight situation. It was time to master the Stair Master. First problem, the machine asked for my weight...in kilograms. I've been writing papers for days and my fried brain could not compute conversions. I did a random guess. No idea if it was correct or not.
So I got on the machine and I tried walking up and down. It's a machine that is supposed to mimic stairs, how hard could this be? And then that moment that I fear in the gyms happens. When you are trying to look confident on this contraption, some person who works at the gym kindly walks up to you and gently asks "has anyone showed you how to to work this machine?" So she attempted to show me, and said a bunch of stuff about compression and to take baby steps and don't lift my feet off the pedals (which is incredibly difficult for runners). I was told to loosen my hips and knees and then she stood there watching. While it was a necessary intervention, I still felt awkward. I tried my best and finally she was satisfied enough that she left. So okay, I think I have the hang of this. I supposedly have walked up 7 floors and am averaging a floor a minute. Sweet. Yay, gym success! .... Then the machine kept thinking that I wasn't on it anymore and kept asking me to resume the routine while I'm attempting to walk. Finally the beeping noise every 30 seconds was making me feel self-conscious and declared defeat. On the plus side, I was a bike fiend today. Not enough that the Tour De France will happen but maybe I can find a niche at gyms.
So in conclusion, I may or may not go back to the Stairmaster. I'm sure there is some other contraption in the gym I could try...
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Snow In Ireland
Now I know that several of the entries have focused on the weather...but today it actually snowed. In Cork. Granted it was for forty-five minutes (all of which I was in class for but that is the benefits of windows) but the entire campus was having a blast/waddling on ice. The total accumulation - rough estimate but approximately 1/4 of an inch. However I saw multiple snowball fights and one ambitious house on the way home even had a little snowman. The campus was beautiful. I took a picture about three hours afterward and a lot of the snow had melted but you can still see a little. This is the Quadrangle which my roommate affectionately calls, "the Harry Potter Quad" because it looks like some place where Quidditch is played.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Winter Has Come To Cork
So the frost and potential for snow has set in although compared to the rest of Ireland, Cork still remains a pretty snow-less city. However schools were closed in Dublin, as was the airport in Edinburgh and the Garda has warned citizens to stay off roads as much as possible.
Slight note: I enjoy how the police are called the Gardai or the official name is An Garda Siochana. It is just more fun to say.
I have been on a few "invigorating" walks these past few days. Despite the presence of heavy gloves, my hands are starting to match the Cork City colors of red and white due to the various levels of freezing and defrosting. I managed to get out on Friday night to Jackie Lennox for some chicken and chips. So my chicken and chips (ie. fries) are wrapped in brown paper and I am at the cashier getting ready to pay. Sidenote: Corkonians talk very quickly and in a sing-song manner so the words tend to run together to an un-trained ear. So I think the cashier asks me if I want a drink, I shake my head no. Then he asks me something else, I say "What?" and after about two more times of this "What is it? - What?" interchange, I finally figure out he is asking what I got. I proceed to apologize and make some line about zoning out or not being with it. The man just goes "oh it's alright, it was Thanksgiving yesterday, you are probably still hungover." It's 6:30 pm the next day. I just laughed though because really it was a very quick line on his part.
This weekend was pretty quiet. I got some Christmas shopping done. The city is decorated with lights hanging across the streets and the stores blaring Christmas music. Now with the expected snow, all you really need is Santa. From the looks of it though, Santa appears in the main city park at various times. None of this wimpy indoor mall Santas for the Irish, we like our Santas to have rosy red cheeks due to the weather.
On a different note, I think I may have mentioned that I get like seven channels. One of which features Skynews which is filmed out of London. Not offense to the British press corps but I think Skynews overuses the expression: "breaking news." Two days ago breaking news was that President Obama received 12 stitches during a pickup basketball game....Seriously, this is breaking news? Their Irish neighbor just received a huge bailout, the entire British Isles is freezing and North Korea attacked South Korea but Obama getting an elbow to the mouth warrants breaking news. I guess his lip was busted open so something did break in the whole experience but still I don't think Skynews was intending on using the word "breaking" literally.
Regardless, I will miss the television. Particularly the fascination with soap operas and the X Factor. Although having watched the X Factor, I can understand the obsession.
Slight note: I enjoy how the police are called the Gardai or the official name is An Garda Siochana. It is just more fun to say.
I have been on a few "invigorating" walks these past few days. Despite the presence of heavy gloves, my hands are starting to match the Cork City colors of red and white due to the various levels of freezing and defrosting. I managed to get out on Friday night to Jackie Lennox for some chicken and chips. So my chicken and chips (ie. fries) are wrapped in brown paper and I am at the cashier getting ready to pay. Sidenote: Corkonians talk very quickly and in a sing-song manner so the words tend to run together to an un-trained ear. So I think the cashier asks me if I want a drink, I shake my head no. Then he asks me something else, I say "What?" and after about two more times of this "What is it? - What?" interchange, I finally figure out he is asking what I got. I proceed to apologize and make some line about zoning out or not being with it. The man just goes "oh it's alright, it was Thanksgiving yesterday, you are probably still hungover." It's 6:30 pm the next day. I just laughed though because really it was a very quick line on his part.
This weekend was pretty quiet. I got some Christmas shopping done. The city is decorated with lights hanging across the streets and the stores blaring Christmas music. Now with the expected snow, all you really need is Santa. From the looks of it though, Santa appears in the main city park at various times. None of this wimpy indoor mall Santas for the Irish, we like our Santas to have rosy red cheeks due to the weather.
On a different note, I think I may have mentioned that I get like seven channels. One of which features Skynews which is filmed out of London. Not offense to the British press corps but I think Skynews overuses the expression: "breaking news." Two days ago breaking news was that President Obama received 12 stitches during a pickup basketball game....Seriously, this is breaking news? Their Irish neighbor just received a huge bailout, the entire British Isles is freezing and North Korea attacked South Korea but Obama getting an elbow to the mouth warrants breaking news. I guess his lip was busted open so something did break in the whole experience but still I don't think Skynews was intending on using the word "breaking" literally.
Regardless, I will miss the television. Particularly the fascination with soap operas and the X Factor. Although having watched the X Factor, I can understand the obsession.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Thanksgiving Dinner
This year was my first experience cooking Thanksgiving Dinner. And I chose to kind of take responsibility over the turkey. Because really what is better for someone who doesn't have any cooking experience but to tackle the main centerpiece of the biggest holiday relating to food? It's like tackling the English Channel when your only swimming experience has been passing the swim test at the local pool.
So the big turkey experience actually started the night before when we got the turkey. Slight issue number 1: the usage of kilograms in Ireland BUT I had prepared for this (spent too much time looking up conversions) and had a handy little chart ready for me at the local supermarket. Success 1: The roommates and I purchased a turkey and got it back to our apartment.
Slight issue number 2: Defrosting. Since we got it the night before, according to the handy websites I consulted it was wayy too late to consider using the traditional refrigerator method. So we left it in the fridge until the next morning when we were going to do option 2: defrost by cold water. At 7:30 I was up and got the turkey out of the fridge and then realized we had another issue. Slight issue 3: the size of an 11 lb turkey. We had no kind of cooler or large bowls. I was not going to be deterred however and found...a plastic bucket in our bathroom. You know the kind that usually collects water or you put mops in. I washed the bucket out and put the turkey in. And who knew turkeys float? Sooo I balanced a plate on top of the turkey to weigh it down.
THE CONTRAPTION
Now the handy cooking website advised me that I had to replace the cold water on the half hour. Which I did...for five hours. At 12:45, the turkey I believed was defrosted but I really had no idea. I got one of my roommates into the kitchen and we opened the turkey from the wrapper. And then this happened....
FALSE. But it would have been great if it did. No, but we did play with the turkey for a while. We may or may not have moved it's wings and talked to each other in turkey voices. Anyway we realized that it was not all fun and games and there was giblets that needed to be removed.
Except we weren't quite sure what a giblet consisted of. We looked it up on Google, and there was a lovely picture involving all possible turkey giblets. So I took one for the team and stuck my hand up that turkey and pulled out some organ or another. And we thought we were good, until we realized that the long thing was a neck and needed to come out. Conversation: "It looks like a bone, you wouldn't remove a bone right?" "I dunno, it looks like it is that long thing in the giblet picture." We ended up pouring like five cups of steaming water into the turkey. And I tried and tried to get that neck out but it wasn't coming out.
And then all of sudden, there was the shrieking girls moment as my roommate pulled the neck out. "Oh my god, oh my god, what do I do?!?" "Ahh I dunno, okay, okay, you pull the trash over and I'll throw it in" "Oh my god, this is so gross!!" And I whipped the trash can over and we threw it in there and shut the lid really quickly and shuddered for a couple of minutes. She never really got over it. And it gave my other roommate a lovely surprise when she opened the trash can later that day.
We had one more giblet removing experience. After this, I convinced another roommate to baste it. I was still recovering from the whole giblet experience. I kept repeating that my hands were so cold and I could feel turkey innards, like it was a traumatic experience. We got the turkey into the oven and managed to cook the thing. (My one roommate had suggested naming it....until she was the one who pulled the neck out.)
We had a full thanksgiving dinner with turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots and string beans, stuffing, apple pie (homemade) and the traditional brownies. And you know what, it was really good.
After we sufficiently recovered from our turkey coma, one of the bars on campus was showing the Saints-Cowboys game so we all went down for a half. I then attempted to explain to our German friend how American football was played. I also got to talk with the fam back home as well. Overall, not a bad Thanksgiving.
So the big turkey experience actually started the night before when we got the turkey. Slight issue number 1: the usage of kilograms in Ireland BUT I had prepared for this (spent too much time looking up conversions) and had a handy little chart ready for me at the local supermarket. Success 1: The roommates and I purchased a turkey and got it back to our apartment.
Slight issue number 2: Defrosting. Since we got it the night before, according to the handy websites I consulted it was wayy too late to consider using the traditional refrigerator method. So we left it in the fridge until the next morning when we were going to do option 2: defrost by cold water. At 7:30 I was up and got the turkey out of the fridge and then realized we had another issue. Slight issue 3: the size of an 11 lb turkey. We had no kind of cooler or large bowls. I was not going to be deterred however and found...a plastic bucket in our bathroom. You know the kind that usually collects water or you put mops in. I washed the bucket out and put the turkey in. And who knew turkeys float? Sooo I balanced a plate on top of the turkey to weigh it down.
Now the handy cooking website advised me that I had to replace the cold water on the half hour. Which I did...for five hours. At 12:45, the turkey I believed was defrosted but I really had no idea. I got one of my roommates into the kitchen and we opened the turkey from the wrapper. And then this happened....
FALSE. But it would have been great if it did. No, but we did play with the turkey for a while. We may or may not have moved it's wings and talked to each other in turkey voices. Anyway we realized that it was not all fun and games and there was giblets that needed to be removed.
Except we weren't quite sure what a giblet consisted of. We looked it up on Google, and there was a lovely picture involving all possible turkey giblets. So I took one for the team and stuck my hand up that turkey and pulled out some organ or another. And we thought we were good, until we realized that the long thing was a neck and needed to come out. Conversation: "It looks like a bone, you wouldn't remove a bone right?" "I dunno, it looks like it is that long thing in the giblet picture." We ended up pouring like five cups of steaming water into the turkey. And I tried and tried to get that neck out but it wasn't coming out.
And then all of sudden, there was the shrieking girls moment as my roommate pulled the neck out. "Oh my god, oh my god, what do I do?!?" "Ahh I dunno, okay, okay, you pull the trash over and I'll throw it in" "Oh my god, this is so gross!!" And I whipped the trash can over and we threw it in there and shut the lid really quickly and shuddered for a couple of minutes. She never really got over it. And it gave my other roommate a lovely surprise when she opened the trash can later that day.
We had one more giblet removing experience. After this, I convinced another roommate to baste it. I was still recovering from the whole giblet experience. I kept repeating that my hands were so cold and I could feel turkey innards, like it was a traumatic experience. We got the turkey into the oven and managed to cook the thing. (My one roommate had suggested naming it....until she was the one who pulled the neck out.)
We had a full thanksgiving dinner with turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots and string beans, stuffing, apple pie (homemade) and the traditional brownies. And you know what, it was really good.
After we sufficiently recovered from our turkey coma, one of the bars on campus was showing the Saints-Cowboys game so we all went down for a half. I then attempted to explain to our German friend how American football was played. I also got to talk with the fam back home as well. Overall, not a bad Thanksgiving.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Interesting Law
So I haven't been able to get this verified but it's supposedly a law that at Trinity College in Dublin you can shoot a Catholic with a bow and arrow on Sunday as long as they remain in the college grounds. I hear it hasn't been repealed either.
Another interesting thing I read in class was MnM v. CM which is a family law case and one member of the couple was trying to get a Judicial Separation Decree (basically you are relieved of your rights to cohabit but are still married to each other and the clock starts ticking for divorce because you need something like 4-5 years of separation for divorce.) Anyway in this case, one of the members of the couple were trying to prove that what was going on was not normal behavior for marriage and accused the other one of excessive drinking, violence anddd setting off of cattle... I'm not sure what that entails but it isn't normal apparently. The Judge told them to pray to St. Francis for guidance.
Another interesting thing I read in class was MnM v. CM which is a family law case and one member of the couple was trying to get a Judicial Separation Decree (basically you are relieved of your rights to cohabit but are still married to each other and the clock starts ticking for divorce because you need something like 4-5 years of separation for divorce.) Anyway in this case, one of the members of the couple were trying to prove that what was going on was not normal behavior for marriage and accused the other one of excessive drinking, violence anddd setting off of cattle... I'm not sure what that entails but it isn't normal apparently. The Judge told them to pray to St. Francis for guidance.
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