I hope you all enjoyed your short-lived work productivity while the sisterhood of the traveling grannypanties took a breather. Seems like ages since we
Anti-Showers Bezusita and Haymitch Abernathy Marjorie shared anything good with the masses.
Let me indulge you.
Things I learned on the Eurotrip:
1. Philadelphia is not actually the LIAR capital of the Universe, it’s PARIS. Never in my 26 years have I seen so many people M.O.D.H-ing (read: make-out-dry-humping) in public. The city of love is clearly for Honeymooners, hookers (Les Miserables, DUH), and torrid affairs that result in Hermes Kelly Bags.
2. Marge snores.
3. Drinking at 7am is totally normal in Ireland. I’ve never felt so at home. My inner-Ginger danced a jig and all the freckles on my arms multiplied upon our arrival in Dublin. Native soil, I’ll be back.
4. Train stations on Sundays in the city of Luuuurve are not the charming experience we take for granted at GCT back home (Obvs excluding Penn Station, also known as the armpit pathway to the Durty Jerz and Laaawng Eyeeeland) We almost got robbed at Gare Nord due to my inability to put 5 years of French to good use while some juvey punkass scrubs tried to swindle us. Luckily some Chocolat-esc Juliette Binchoe type shooed them away, albeit with breath that smelled like a horse died farting in her mouth.
5. If you spend an excessive amount of time in the company of your peabrain sisters, your conversational skills will suffer with the outside world and you’ll also forget that people are judging you.
Need proof? Overheard on the Festivus Exodus:
That’s Reaaaaal Pret.
Ew, look at the dog’s Bungus.
I’m so sick of hearing about Christian Grey’s Dingus.
The best part of waking up, is Sancerre in your TUMMMMMMM.
I just ate Brain Bologne.
I’m going to beast some fromage and some Shar-Coot.
Where’s the Chard?
I’ll take the Woman Wine.
Je suis desolee que je ne suis pas desolee.
I’m just trying to not get my face eaten.