Short Stories!

I've spent the last few days collecting short stories that are somewhat worth sharing.

On Wednesday we went to the live music thing at a local cafe.  Everybody there was really old, and we had to sit on the floor, but it was still a good time.  We got to talk to the lady singing a bit, turned out she lived in Philadelphia for years.  Also, from my accent, she didn't realize I was American.  Damn.

This morning I went to the library to return some books, and as I was leaving, a random lady chased after me yelling "Excuse me!  Excuse me, miss!"  I stared at her.  "Your braid looks really neat, and I was wondering if you could teach me how to do it?  My daughter has long, straight hair, and we've been trying lots of braids out on her head, and I really like yours but I have no idea how to do it."  I was most happy to oblige, which brings the total number of people I have taught to fishtail up to three or four in both Germany and Portugal.  I wonder if Ambassador of the Fishtail Braid is something you can put on a resume.

Today I went out with Latvian Friend and French Girl.  We had lots of fun at the bar, and even ran into the Czech Girl's boyfriend and his friend, who was sober.  The last time we saw the friend, he was desperately trying to get Claire to show him her boobs.

Afterwards we decided to check out the Irish pub, which is famous for it's fights.  As soon as we arrived I immediately made friends with a gang of soldiers, who, for lack of better names, are now being referred to in my brain as Flamingly Gay One And New Favorite Person Ever, Flamingly Gay One's Boyfriend, Little Adorable Dude, and Sort-of Geordie.  I met them when Flamingly Gay One asked me if I was hiding a baby in my coat.  They bought me lots of drinks, christened me Miss Philadelphia, and told me multiple times how sexy my accent is, which I can't really wrap my head around.  I also discovered what happens when Oasis' "Don't Look Back In Anger" comes on in an Irish pub, namely, that everyone throws an arm around the person next to them, sways back and forth, and screams it at the top of their lungs.  Then somehow the soldier gang wound up convincing me to go to the British club with them, which also proved to be highly entertaining.  They're picking me up tomorrow for a How I Met Your Mother party on the army base, to remedy my being a bad American who's never actually seen that show.

Making friends with the British: apparently, one of my strong suits.

And now it's 3.15 AM, I need to shower, but I'm scared to go downstairs because I heard two loud bangs and the sound of glass breaking.  I don't think it was at our house, but I'm still afraid.

New favorite song!  Because I'm in a British mood.