That was only one of the bits of American wisdom you gave the French and Belgian kids here.
Three French Wwoofers: Edouard, Amelia, and Stephanie–who all conveniently go to the same school in France, but Ed applied separately from the girls.
Two Belgian girls: Karen and my-god-I-can’t-spell-it-but-let’s-call-her ”Streets.”
Two Irish guys: Niel (whom you suspect will be M.I.A. for a while), and Simon, his friend.
One American: you, affectionately known as ”The Yank” and also recently self-titled ”Baking Bitch.”
So what do you do with a house full of twenty-somethings who have loads of trouble understanding each other? Play cards. Lots and lots and lots of cards. Not really a problem, because when is the last time you played cards with five other people? The games you grew up playing are way more fun.
PLUS!!! JESUS CHRIST… you had no idea that Europeans, APPARENTLY, CANNOT SHUFFLE CARDS. Who can’t shuffle cards? You thought it was one of those skills you just had to learn, like tying your shoes. Riiiight? No… NO ONE in the WHOLE HOUSE can shuffle, and there were many inquiries into whether you had ever been to Las Vegas. Ha, you felt like a card shark. Tried to teach them how to shuffle, but you were playing with a weird French deck, in which the cards are extra long and rather unmanageable and the J, Q, and K cards are labelled V, D, and R–what the fuck is up with THAT?
After cards lost their novelty, you decided to teach them a couple drinking games (sans alcohol because Douglas brought out some good old American bourbon the night before, and though you had given him many days worth of warning about your ability to throw the drinks back, I guess he didn’t believe you–now you feel guilty for bombing on the bottle of Woodford Reserve; and the house is somewhat appalled by how much you drank, though you didn’t get beyond the giggles, and no, you didn’t have a fucking hangover because you and bourbon go waaay back, and he just doesn’t treat you that way). So, yeah, drinking games. Kings was a hit–looks like Karen will be bringing that game home to Belgium.
At about two in the morning, you all went upstairs to the attic. Seemed to be giggling like 10-year-olds at a slumber party and could not sleep. So you suggested word association, first in English, then in French. Nice vocabulary builder. Also, intermittently, you explained weird phrases to them.
Things they learned:
1) Anal. Anal retentive. So stressed out, you could shove a lump of coal up his ass and let him crap out a diamond.
2) If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.
3) If you want to be a little annoying, call someone ”Buddy” or ”Chief.” You alright over there, Chief?
4) Three little magic words: ”Fuck me running!”
5) Are you pulling my leg? Pulling my chain? Yanking my crank?
6) Bust a cap in someone’s ass. You should not anger a ‘Gansta,’ lest you wind up with a ‘cap in your ass.’
What YOU learned last night is that you are STEREOTYPICALLY American. They seem to get a kick out of your big and loud mannerisms. Douglas commissioned you to make breakfast a week ago. When you made him scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and toast, he said, ‘My god, an AMERICAN breakfast. Look how BIG it is.” Guy couldn’t finish it. Besides being called The Yank, likened to the Statue of Liberty, and poked fun at for saying the word ”DUDE,” you have also been ‘slagged’ for the way you say ”spoon” and ”butter.” You also get slagged for your never-ending endurance, never-curbing appetite, and way of smashing things. ”Hand that long bar over to America,” Declan (Jane’s husband) said to Ed whilst the three of you were tearing up part of the deck you were building outside to the yoga chalet. You proceeded to deftly demolish the deck, and your own hand by crushing your fingers between the long bar and some protruding nails. You also, earlier that day, put your foot RIGHT THROUGH the deck. Literally, stepped onto a rotten part and crashed through a plank, snapping a board in two. Shin and knees got banged up, bit didn’t slow you down. Declan put you on the phone with Jane, who yelled at you for being a ”dim-witted, daft, American blonde,” who ”better learn to slow down because she’s only got one body!” It wasn’t YOUR fault the deck was rotten.
And so life goes on in Wicklow…