Ire Straits
20. Mar, 2006 
1 Comment
Dublin, Ireland
March 17 – 19, 2006
Dublin doesn’t have much to offer (glad I only went for 2 full days), hispecially in the St Patty’s dept, but if you heart woman that’re hard Corr, love to say ‘cheers’, or ever want to drink yer tits off, than this is the place to become Whobitzor Titsoff. Eh?
Where is my mind?
and my corn?
Maybe my corn is here
Lovely day every 5 seconds
for a Guinness
What a fitting episode to be playin on the telly
for beer is the cause of and the solution
to all of life’s problems
Dublin, the mos sunny
& mos scenic city
EVER
and by ever,
I mean in Ireland!
Ma & Pa were real sports,
even staying up til 2am one night!
and listening to me puke at 5am the next!
Guess what color this horsey’s poo was?
BROWN!
This is a thing called a thing,
at the ye olde Trinity College
Here’s another thing
that used to house a military hospital
but now houses shitty modern art!
Visiting the G-ness Storehouse
is the only tourist attraction
worth attraction
Alec Guinness = Genuine Class
This is what Irish people look like
The girl had never heard of ‘kiss me I’m Irish’ before
so I introduced her to some of our Irish-American customs!
and here’s some more Irish people
older, sure, but heavy drinkers none the less:
1 bottle champagne
1 bottle white wine
1 bottle red wine
1 bottle dessert wine
3 pints per person
I wanted to eat here on name alone
but I knew it would lead to Abradiarrhea
A pint and a fag
two things u don’t often see together
since pints are homophobic
JUNK!
DAIM STRAIGHT, YO!!
Mum’s the word
on Hallmark’s world domination
Heinz everything
but Hellman’s ketchup?
The 7-Up guy lives on!!!
but what, no love for Geoffrey Holder?
‘kills’ in Gaelic means ‘is cool’
and ‘harms you and others around you’ means
‘gets you laid like mad, yo!’
and since Irish cuisine blows yo momma
we had to hit up Wagamama
I don’t think my body can handle these qwik European ghettoways anymo. Last year‘s lil ingestion fest ’05 bender caught up with me in the wurst way the night before I left, and this year, the morning of departure, which in turn led to probably the single wurstest travel day anyone could have experienced. Sure, downing pint after pint of the world’s finest o’ frothy all tweakend long was more blissful than watching Good Morning Miss Bliss, but I coulda done without the endless amounts of vile bile shooting outta my orifices, which oddly enuff looked like pints of Guinness.
