The things you do when you’re Irish and you live in America

Since moving to America I have been craving cheese and onion Tayto. Craving them bad. (I know, I’m such a cliché.) At home, unless it was Christmas and they were flowing like wine, I wouldn’t look twice at a bag of cheese and onion crisps. I like my salty snacks cheap and nasty, like Meanies or Banshee Bones. But here, I cannot stop thinking about Tayto. When I babysat a few months ago, I “borrowed” a bag from the family’s stash. Jesus, the guilt afterwards! Of course you can get Tayto in certain shops over here, and online, but it’s not cheap or easy. For Christmas, we received many, many bags in the post from friends and family at home but when you have a finite supply, every crisp is tinged with sadness and loss, which kind of ruins the whole experience.

Like the new Tayto obsession, last night I did something that I wouldn’t be caught dead at in Dublin: I went to see The Coronas. Now I’m not a music snob by any means (my fondness for Britney, 90s J-Lo and that Like A G6 song is testament to that) but I always thought The Coronas were a bit, well, shite. Still, there was a group going and I’m not in a position to turn down a night out. Plus, they’re Irish, we’re Irish, it would be rude not to.

So, after emptying Milo and sticking him in his new crate (a very worthwhile investment, thank you Walmart.com) we headed into Portland to the Doug Fir, a really cool venue with toilets so trippy I got a little bit scared at one point. After a few Bud Lights in the bar, and getting stamped to within an inch of our lives, we headed downstairs to where an American band, aptly named The Dregs, were playing for what I assume were some close friends and family members. Now they really were shite.

And then The Coronas, who were headlining, came on. All in all I’d say there were about 80 people there which I suppose wasn’t a bad turnout since the band didn’t seem to have any relatives in the audience. Considering I only know one Coronas song (you know it too, it’s about the J1 and it goes “So we sleep all day and we drink blah blah, we are not blahing our blah”) I was surprised and impressed with their performance. The proof is that I started fancying them within minutes. They were changing guitars like it was going out of fashion, playing piano and generally being very entertaining. Nice arms, too. Their set was short but that suited me just fine. I know it’s a cliché, but I’d definitely go see them if they came back, and not just because I’m Irish and I live in America.

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My new obsession: Adele

I’ve been listening to Adele’s new album, 21, non-stop these past few weeks (except on Fridays when I play Rihanna’s Cheers (Drink To That) on repeat). It’s really addictive. She performed Someone Like You at the BRITs the other night and got all choked up at the end (I’m pretty sure everyone at home was weeping into their couches too). Anyway, she said afterwards that the reason she got so upset was because she was imagining her ex-boyfriend at home laughing at her. Now, I think that might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, don’t you? Here’s that performance, for your aural and visual pleasure. You might need a hanky.

Obsessed with Willow Smith

She’s the nine-year-old daughter of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett (neither of whom I consider particularly cool but whatevs) and I’m basically obsessed with her debut single, Whip My Hair. Yes, she probably still has to sit in a car seat but she’s still cooler than I’ll ever be.