Addendum -

I forgot all about this part of Saturday night -

Because karaoke sucked, me and my friend headed over to my one Dutch friend's house since he lives near by and he had said that he'd be drinking with his neighbors.

Anyhow, after meeting the one of them for the second time - she was like, "Oh yeah, we met at the Irish parade, all I remember is this really long conversation about bestiality that I was really into, but I can't remember the details... Wasn't it about horse-fucking or something?", and I realized I didn't remember that at all, but it sounds like me, so I realized I must have been more drunk at the parade than I remember being - me and her boyfriend started talking about ghost stories somehow.

As it turns out, both were raised in houses that had presences -

With him, he used to wake up regularly and there was a man with a top hat sitting on his bed. Once the hatch to the attic that was in the hallway outside his room started thumping up and down violently and woke up him and his sisters, and they ran downstairs to get his dad, who went up and inspected the attic and found nothing.

With her, the ghost would be noisy at night, and walk up and down the stairs, and her dad would ask it to quiet down (it usually would). Sometimes in the kitchen (the entrance to the house they use most is the side-door to the kitchen) utensils fly at unknown people when they enter.