We did make a Guinness cake here yesterday (Guinness is there to enhance the chocolate, apparently, not for actually making the cake taste like Guinness, unfortunately). The icing actually had Bailey's in it too, which is absurd, but awesome. Of course, that just made the icing "sweat" or whatever it's called (that's the terminology I heard from the resident bakers in the group).
I also realized over the weekend in having two pints of Guinness in London (the first pints since Dublin) that it still pales in comparison to Guinness in Dublin. So if you like USA Guinness, you will absolutely fall in love with Dublin Guinness. Depending on the person, you may sell all your assets and move to Dublin to marry Guinness. Tales are told about Irish guys who don't marry because they feel like that would be cheating on their true life partner, their Guinness. OK, I made that last bit up, but I seriously would not doubt that happening at some point.
Classes end in two full weeks (aka two weeks after this week). The last week will be terrible because there will be no incentive to go. Also, my sister will be here (HUZZAH!) and so why should I go to class when I can take her places? Yep, I guess I'm not going to class on Monday...we'll see about Thursday and Friday, after she leaves.
To end with two funny stories (or rather, jokes) that I happened upon, which may or may not translate as text. They're "story" jokes which means the payoff is later...sort of like my favorite comedian of the moment, Aziz Ansari:
I took this class concerning economic development, and yes, poverty is a big issue and all, but the thing about it is that you have to give it to the right people. So they have to use the census to do so, and go around and make sure people are poor before helping them out. My teacher said that there are definite reasons for those near but not in poverty to make themselves look like they're in poverty to be able to rake in the benefits after the census people come by. So I couldn't help but think of this: "Hey, José, it's me, Diego. How's it going, man? Oh, your house got repossessed? That's a bummer, man. Listen, I need your help tomorrow. Those census people are coming by tomorrow to see if I'm poor, so I need you to hold some stuff for me. Like my TVs, my computers, my refrigerator, the floorboards in our house, and hey, take the toilet and the sink, too. And if you want, you can take the Rolls out for a spin tomorrow. Oh, and can I borrow some of your kids? I need to them so I look poorer to those guys. Thanks, man, I appreciate it."
I was in a class regarding politics and development and we were talking about AIDS and how it effects development. And naturally, we got off topic, and so it de-evolved into a bunch of talk as to whether or not AIDS has social stigma attached to it. You know, like the whole "You have AIDS? Shunnnnnnnn" sort of deal. Somehow, we got to talking about the culture of the Zulu in southern Africa, and one of the guys in my class said it's one of those things that's not talked about, because to them you'd rather have AIDS and have a lot of kids and keep the whole AIDS thing secret. He said it's not like they go out for beers and talk about this. Really, man? You think they would? I mean, how would that go? "Hey man, what's happening?" "Oh, not too much." "You got AIDS?" "Hell yeah, man, it sucks. Flared up yesterday." "Dude, me too, I got it from my wife two years back. Fuck that noize, right?" "Dude, yeah, fuck that shit." "Cheers, dude...cheers to that."
NP: Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks - Real Emotional Trash
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