Clowns to the left of me; Jokers to the right

Here I am, stuck in the middle...
This is Bre, Liz, myself, Amy and Christy on the River Liffey in Dublin, Ireland.
This was day 2, so we didn't quite smell like the locals at that point (because they smell like B.O. - it's all the rage in Dublin...).

Ireland was great. Dublin is filthy, but the food was great (lamb & potato soup and Bailey's and Guinness, and roasted potatoes everywhere). The guys were pigs, and we won't discuss them.
Seriously, I wish I could tell you there was more than potatoes and Guinness, but that is all there really was. I'm dead serious.
Of course we went on the Guinness Storehouse tour. At the end of the tour you get to enjoy a "complimentary" pint while sitting in a 360 bar. And thus this picture came in to being.

On Sunday, Bre and I decided to go to Wicklow, because on a flyer we had picked up and (foolishly) belived, it showed Wicklow. Some of the attractions you could see in Wicklow were places where scenes from Braveheart was filmed, Bono's house *cries*, and a cute little town like place. Promises of scenery and the true Irish experience danced in our heads. Well, the tour bus cost 22 euros. But you could catch the train for 14 euro. Awesome. So we hop the train, which drove along the coast. The ride was amazing. Wicklow not so much. Or as we started to call it, Buttmunch, Ireland. There was NOTHING. We thought others were coming to meet us on the bus, so we stayed in Buttmunch for a couple hours. It was raining (surprise, surprise) so we sat in a little restaurant hotel thing that had guys drinking in it (at like 11am on a Sunday. Someone is going to hell.) and amazing coffee. And amusing little packets of sugar that taught you Gailic, much like fortune cookies teach you chinese. Seroiusly, I can say "kiss my butt" in Gailic. You learn something new every day... And a nice man cooking at the hotel gave us free roasted potatoes for lunch. We must have looked pathetic. Or American. Possibly both. When 2pm came and went, so did Bre and I. Having gave up hope on our friends, figuring they were lost to the Irish abyss, we asked the train station operator how to get somewhere that wasn't Wicklow. He asked what we wanted to see, and I am afraid we couldn't think of much more than rocks to climb on and sheep. Needless to say, he laughed at us. He also directed us to Rathdrum, which was (supposedly) 5 minutes from the national park. And as he was saying this, the train arrived. Score! We hopped on and rode down to Rathdrum. Which is where this picture was taken. True to the man's word, we found sheep and even a stone wall I did attempt climbing. We never did find the national park, because all roads appariently lead to Rathdrum. We would walk up one hill and wind up in the exact same place we came from. So the day was filled with pretty scenery and hills like you wouldn't believe. We hiked everywhere, something my back is still not letting me forget, but it was SO worth it. We even found some good mushroom soup and awesome bread for dinner. And that tour bus that we didn't want to spend the extra 8 euros on passed us while walking on the road. Oh the irony of it all.

So no, I did not manage to find Bono's house, but on the behalf he was in America on the Conan O'Brien show that night, I doubt it would have done me much good. But I probably would have taken a chunk out of his front yard and run with it.

Monday was our last day in Ireland, and we went souviner shopping, Christmas shopping, and picture taking. This picture is from St. Patrick's cathedral. I took it because I wanted to take that puppy. Not as cute as Monty, but beggers can't be choosers.

We also visited a castle that some smart one PAINTED the sides of. And not just painted. In the words of Bre "whomever decided to turn this castle into the lego playhouse should be flogged."

Because the (outside) walls were vibrant red, green, blue and yellow. It pains me to think about it still.

And I leave you with the best picture ever. I have to explain to you that Liz hates birds. And the pigeons around here are ratty. This one bird was advancing towards Liz despite her yelling at it to shoo. There was going to be a smackdown at St. Patrick's.