Well, here’s to seeing if Blogger has gotten the Carson Daly out of its system yet. *pokes with a sword*

So, um. Irish food is, uh. Irishy. I’m trying to work up enthusiasm, cause my parents are all “Yay, Ireland!” and my brother’s fave restraunt is Irish, as is his girlfriend, but, um. Honestly? Don’t care. Now, I find the culture deeply interesting, and I love the accent, and what images I’ve seen of the place. And the first person I ever fell in love with was Irish, born and raised (to this day, I get happies over the way he says my name. “Cah-tee” is so much better than “Cathy”…which is a nickname I always despised anyways). But the food? I’d rather have a nice stir-fry, thanks all the same.

But its my brother’s birthday. And he loves An Poitin Stil. So we went. And exchanged gifties, since my b-day dinner had been called on account of a sick mother, and an extremely tired self. And Immers seemed pleased with his gifts. Sheets and DVDs and an R.L. Burnside CD. And I’m madly in love with my pressies. El Hazard. The bastich got me El Hazard! ^_____________^

Volumes 1 & 3 to be sure, but El Hazard! The original OAV series, which I totally have not seen, and fracking EL HAZARD! *does a dance* I’m so pleased that I’m actually amused by the Dragonball Z bag he put them in, and I’m quietly, grinningly erasing the fact that the card he got me had a chimpanzee on it. El Hazard! *chortles* I actually hugged Erin. She seemed startled but kind of pleased. I guess its the first real affection I’ve shown her. Which kind of sucks, cause, she’s really nice, and she’s got a good sense of humor, and she handles our family well, and I like the way she looks at my brother. Its just that she’s a Fish.

sounds like aikawa nanase, “bitch”