Dear Readers,

I have had a revelation this weekend.

It all started on Friday when Rad and made plans to bake some brownies. We went to the local grocery store to buy ingredients. We ended up buying a mix, something i would never do back home where i have a fully stocked kitchen which includes cooking implements.

Anyway I suggested to Rad that we make a drinking game out of our baking. She thought it sounded like a good idea so we started spit balling rules.

I came up with one rule, "every time anything is measured we both have to take a shot."

Rad's rule was a bit more direct, "Anytime we know what we're doing we have to take a shot."

Needless to say, we got shitfaced drunk.

And we videotaped the whole thing.

I'll get around to editing that later, it is definitely hilariously embarrassing and too great to keep from the world.

I skyped at some point towards the end of the night with my friends back at Pratt who convinced me to write a blog post in my inebriated state. They always do that and I always listen. When will I learn?

And that is how the wonderfully eloquent and classy blog post under this one came to be.

Almost everything in that post is true, I do miss NYC and my friends there, Radhika is pretty cool and men who are immature do in fact suck, but one thing that sober Chelsea does not agree with is the high caliber and favorable passion with which drunk Chelsea describes Irish Whiskey.

That's a brand by the way, in fact the cheapest brand of whiskey that Rad and I could find.

I'd like to go on record right now saying that it does not rock. In fact part of me is convinced it's the devil. 

Moving onto Saturday, I awoke with a hangover so vicious I wanted nothing more than for my face to melt off. Rad had blacked out most of the evening, and didn't even have a hangover. Lucky girl.

I went home, got into my bed and didn't get out of it all day.

What was particularly funny was when I got home at around 1pm, my roommate was in bed and I asked her how she was, to which she replied, "hungover".

She informed me that her and two of her friends had split a liter of vodka. So our room that day was very quiet and dark, the lights were never turned on and the blinds remained closed all day.

That is until the late evening, when Manon popped out of bed and started getting ready to go out. She asked me if i was staying in to which I replied, "Yes. Are you going out?"

Then she started to explain her "hair of the dog" theory, which, just thinking about, made me gag. I told her she was crazy and she said I was crazy and then I told her to have a goodnight and she left.

I went to sleep at around 2/3 ish and awoke this morning (Sunday) with one hell of a headache. I had forgotten how much my body hates alcohol. Hangover round two? Yes.

So now I can explain my revelation dear readers. I have decided to only drink once a week while here, and when I do drink, to do so in moderation. I can't think about alcohol right now without feeling like throwing up, so I have no idea how soon the next drinking night will be, but one thing I am sure of is that there will be no more drunk blog posts. That's what facebook status updates are for.

I am not making any promises, as I've learned drunk Chelsea tends to have a mind of her own, but i would prefer this blog be about Ireland, and not a running list of Mexican things that I think are cool like nachos and Jenny's mom.

I don't even eat nachos.