10 Years to 30

OKay so sorry I haven't written in a while.

But I will try to start again and write retroactively..


So this is about my birthday. I am 20. No longer a teenager. Bloody hell. Only 10 years to 30. Quarter life crisis. What am I going to do with my life? I'm a 20-something.

All these and more were running through my head on Dec 3. So I decided to drink them away.

The day started fabulously with Chris coming over at 9:30 (the first time I woke up before noon all semester) and making me RUM pancakes!!!


mmmm yuuum.

I left the kitchen a mess, becuase, hey it was my birthday and I come from self-indulgent, narcissitic North America where the day of your birth is free rein for everything.

I don't think that cultural difference transfered over.

Then I went to Biblical Hebrew vocab lesson.


I pronounced the name of G-d in a way that Jews do when they don't want to pronounce the full thing (changing one letter, its really subtle) and the prof actually NOTICED and asked me if it was for 'religious reasons'.

Oh and side note: I have a mini crush on the German guy in my Hebrew class. Basically because he looks like Harry Potter and speaks english with a British accent. And know that he knows I'm Jewish, he always gives me these like private glances in class. or always looks my way when the prof like says something about Christians. And then he'll raise his hand after I ask a question about Christinaty or something and be like "But that would be different if your not Chrisitan" like he's looking out for me. its cute. hes cute. lets get it on! Well actually I will probably never see him since I just had my last class :(

Oh well.


soooo back to birthday.

Then me and Have You Got Italian went shopping for our birthday snacks. I expected to buy some chips and coke and be done with it. But apparantly, when Italians are invited to a party before 10:00 they expect to be fed. So I ended up spending so much money on like....actually food. And like because of the communication problems (she speaks crappy english) I couldn't be like 'nooo just chipps" because she wouldn't get it.

Oh well.but yea its really annoying when ppl don't speak the langugae properly. If they only know a little communication is so hard beyond like 'where is the train station'. I try to ask her a question 3 times, becaus the answer will always be different.

I call her "have you got Italian" because when she is asking for someting that is what she says. Direct translations don't work! like in french ..."tu as poulet?" really means : Have you chicken?

But in English it is "Do you have chicken"

k so after we bought the stuff her italian friend went home to cook it at her house. I went to buy the alchocl. B/c apparntly that is important. I also cheaped out on paper plates which drove her nuts and she went out later to get more. But commmooon.

So I got ready and all the Canadian boys came over early which I loved. Then I got drunk. I didn't realize that I was drunk, but when I saw the empty 24 of Vodka the next morning I ralized that ...oh wait...I was!

It was really cute, the Belgians made us do this thing where they gave us a bowl of animal crackers and every time the song said "Bicycle" we had to eat one. It was that song..ya know...well....it says Bicycle A LOT. And then we got presents which included a plate, a glass, socks and choclate.

And I'm sooo happy that people bought presents! I am also surprised. I got champagne,alcohol chocolates (this guy that I didn't even know from Iraq bought me Leoniada chocolate that are actually heavenly),


My Canadian friends were getting along well with the Italians (wink wink nudge nudge)

Then we decided to go to the Seven Oaks since it was a monday and we didn't want to wake up anyone. So I hopped on the back of this Hungarian guys bicycle and rode there. I didn't know him, but what better way to make friends?


There, I had a few shots of Jenever. don't ask me what this is. I still don't know. But it is alcoholic.

At the Seven Oaks were Sinter Klauss and Black Pete!!(See above pic) I kinda started dancing on Sinter Klauss's pole. Until he told me that he was 42. Then I ran away.

I think I must have fallen like....7 times. It was not good. At one point I was dancing on a barrell. But hey...like i said before..it was my birthday! Immunity from judgement!

At one point this Italian guy handed me a joint on the dancefloor. But it was def. not Canadian weeed and mixed with tabbaco. All Italians are shocked that we don't mix. Mixing is so gross though.

So then I went home early at about 4 am. And I actually made it to class the next day!!!!!!! At 11 am!! But I was still drunk....