How Not to Plan a Trip (or, How to Get Sold into White Slavery)

H: First off, Allie is going to object to the name of this entry.

A: Dear Lord! I am not white . . .

H: Whatever, slavery. Point is, well, that title just about sums up the trip we're about to take.

A: Silly, just because we are ill-prepared. We can figure it out. We still have a week before we head off to London. Plenty of time.

H: Sure. We'll just throw together some plans for how we'll spend 10 as-of-yet undetermined days in Ireland? Oh gee, maybe we could also go find rainbows and leprechauns and magic, flying puppy dogs.

A: Cool! How freaking awesome would that be? Alright then, let's get down to business. This is the amazing blog of Allie and Hannah! I'm between names right now, so we'll call me Allie/Nazli, whichever you prefer ;) I know, aren't emoticons sooooooo cute? Just makes you want to vomit, right? We have a week till we are off and aren't really ready. This is the way to plan, waiting till the last minute. It's when the best plans are found!

H: I find that to be true, actually, despite my grumbling. Or rather, a lack of planning leads to the best stories. That's the point of this blog, unless we get distracted: to record all the fabulously improbable yet improbably dangerous and absolutely ridiculous things that we are going to do. Did I mention England's drinking age? Tell 'em, Allie.

A: Sadly, I don't quite know. All that really matters is that I can booze it up! Woo-hoo! This whole blog thing is a bit new to me, so I'm just gonna wing it. I'm not much of a talker, that's the drunkard who wrote above me. So far, all that's figured out is that we're going to be the obnoxious Americans with hot pink and neon yellow umbrellas. Ooh, and we're going to meet up with Hannah's friends Terrence in London! And booze . . . no pot, sadly. Amsterdam's too far away.

H: I'm a drunkard, am I? At least I'm not an ignoramus! It's 18 (If I'm wrong I will feel much shame). I really hate that umbrella. It's brighter than sunshine through a hangover. But anyways, yeah! Not sure what else there is to say, actually. We leave next sunday. We have yet to pack. We have yet to plan our extra vacation days. We have yet to even tell our RA (thats Resident Advisor, for those not in the know) that we are leaving. I'll drink to that!

A: Most definitely. If only we had beer. Unfortunately, in this sad excuse for a country that we live in, drinking is only possible if we are 21. Even more unfortunate, we are 19, two fucking years till legal drinking and not running away in fear from LexPo (our much beloved police system, dear lord, get a fucking life and try to get actual criminals). Currently, this is the extent of our planning. We want to have a fun blog to record our experiences.

H: GOOD GOD don't get me started on that. I could go for days on our shit-tastic drinking age, as you know, Allie darling. So, to conclude: Wish us luck! We'll need it. I really hope we don't get sold into slavery of any kind.

A: I would also like to meet mermaids and smoke pot. The two instances would probably go together . . .