Comedy of Errors

Since I arrived in Dublin I feel like my life has sort of become a sitcom, not as touchy feely as Full House or as edgy as Curb Your Enthusiam, but a sitcom nonetheless.

It began the moment my plane landed on the Emerald Isle, and I had to concern myself with dragging two 70+ lb. suitcases, a back pack, and a lap top through the streets of Dublin. The first person I spoke to was kind enough to ask if I needed help with my bags, and then rude enough to as if it was true that all American girls were easy (I carried my bags myself). The second person wanted to know how familiar I was with the drug culture in America. *Sigh* The ever-comical Accomodation Advisory Service soon followed, which always opened late, closed early, and did little advising or serving. Then it was the Great Flat Hunt, i.e. the worst fucking week of my life, where I spent loads of money carting my arse all over the city looking at shitty flats that smelled of curry and house shares that wanted nothing to do with an American (thank you, Dubya). By the end of the week, however, I met Ann, a girl from Ohio with on the most infectious laughs I have ever heard. We became partners in crime, apartment hunting all hours of the day and night, and bitching about Trinity over pints of Guinness. Our hard work eventually paid off and we found the perfect flat... ofcourse it was only after we moved in that we found our landlords underwear under the sink and realized that we live a few blocks from a prison- funny the details that get left out of the open house.

Things have been settling down a bit with the start of classes, though I found myself wondering daily if Ireland is the new stage for Larry David's latest work. There was the financial aid officer who has been hiding my loan check, and the old man on the street who pulled me aside and said, "For fucks sake you dont need a mobile- the whole city of Dublin can hear you." Where do these people come from?!?

With material like this, who needs the tele?