The juice of happiness

Some of the shit that's happened so far in Belfast is so bizarre/stupid/crazy I couldn't even make it up.

Last night after my lovely shopping day with Rachael and a great homemade stir-fry dinner, I got gussied up and headed down to Scholars Bar to meet up with everyone. Had a few beers there and headed to the main event of the night: international party at Grant House.

We're talking a small, smelly room filled with people drinking and speaking in a ton of languages. Hilarious, really. At this point we've got a shoe-less lesbian and an Indian following our pack to the party (as if we weren't eclectic enough). Sean and I were sharing a bottle of wine out of a tiny coffee cup that Polish Michael was kind enough to wash out for us.

So there's this guy that every single international student probably knows. We're talking like 400+ students from 40 or so countries. He is tiny and horny and hilarious. We probably just went to the party to see him and his crazy antics. The absolute highlight of the night was to hear him describe the pronunciation of his name to some asian girls who were looking terrified. He just kept saying, "it's like, juice, of happiness...you know....juice...of happiness" Bizarre and hilarious. We cracked up for about an hour over the thing.

Knowing that nothing else could top that we just went to Sopranos and had kebabs, as usual. Great night.