Just a Few
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God only knows.
Welcome to the furious tornado that is the return to Real Life after 10 days of immature galavanting. I hate this part. Anyway, I'm all tied up, but I thought I'd at least give you a few brief looks at what you may or may not find in this space in the coming days and weeks.
I dropped £42 playing poker during the trip, in two £20+1 SnGs at the Cincinnati Club in Glasgow. The best hand I was dealt during roughly 100 hands was 88, which ran into TT. I am officially card dead on two continents...I met a player who achieved Supernova status at Poker Stars, meaning I know TWO of that very exclusive fraternity. Of course, I had to find out if The Tank knows The Nerd and he responded (good-naturedly) to my query with, "I own The Venetian!" Cocky Scots...Back-water, dip-shit tourists from Alabama arguing exchange rates with condescending Asian money-changers is pure comedy fucking gold...Driving Irish backroads is a harrowing experience, even as well as Donny managed it...I met people, actually living, breathing Irish people, who refer to Guinness as "cheap beer" and consider Budweiser a delicacy...I missed my flight from Scotland to Ireland. It totally wasn't my fault. In fact, I'm almost certain I was simply a faceless pawn in a global racketeering scam, a faceless pawn who got to spend an extra hundred bucks to fly to an airport not of his choosing...There are a few mouthy youths in the village of Broadford, Ireland who are fortunate Kool Breeze and I posses requisite amounts of self-restraint as we were both quite willing to, in the immortal words of Tom Araya, "spill the blood." If, by some quirk of fate, you kids are reading this right now, allow me to use an Irish expression I picked up, "Mind yerselves"...I may have a gambling problem based on the fact I was making blackjack prop bets with The Tank at 4 a.m. for stakes 500% higher than those we were betting on the cards...Schott's new wife is beautiful and gregarious and treated me as if we'd known each other our whole lives even though we'd only just met. She's also a good listener and I really appreciate it, D, even if I can't quite remember what I said, only that I said a lot...I learned Donny's three rules for finding the right woman. Only one of them contains the word "fuck"...The women in Scotland and Ireland seem "fresher" to me. Less make-up, less haughty attitude. I've been in LA too long...Despite paying €99 per at my reasonably posh hotel, I spent two nights sleeping on a coach fully dressed...Picking up your room key at 10 the next morning while still wearing a rumpled suit tends to give you a reputation at small town lodges...I had one of the most beautiful, heart-breaking experiences of my life during the week, which, frankly, I'm not sure I can even talk about yet and no, it's not anything like what you might think...Won't you remember, won't you remember, won't you remember me?
8 Comments:
So you're dropping these £ and € things, instead of just coverting to good old American $, eh?
Is Ireland in Europe? If it is, you are officially Eurotrash. IsoP
Welcome back!! Sounds like you've got about a score of posts pent up inside, each weighing in at over 4 stone. Can't wait for the gripping narrative in typical Speak-speak.
But seriously - Guinness = cheap beer and Bud = delicacy? I'm calling BS on that one, man...
Welcome back.
While you were gone it was like one big fucking orgy. Chicks were getting naked everywhere and just throwing themselves at dudes. Alcohol was provided free of charge for a 4 day span and television stations played nothing but tittie flicks and sports.
Everyone hit the lotto at least once and I was dealt high pocket pairs virtually every other hand for days on end.
Or something like that.
I was there and find this interesting. Good job, Sweet Ned
Did you eat the haggis? Or see it eaten?
Welcome Back.
I must have slept while you were gone.
I totaly don't remember the past weeks the same as huge junk!?
I always miss out!
There is nothing sadder than seeing apparently sane Irish people drinking Budweiser. While I was over there I also discovered Smithwick's, which is fantastic. My then-girlfriend (Irish) and all her mates called it "old man's beer". "Old man's awesome beer," I used to correct them.
Smithwicks is old man's beer. Guinness is dirty water, although a lot of my fellow countrymen seem quite partial to it. No BS.
Budweiser is "love-in-a-canoe" beer - surely I don't have to explain that?
For me, give me apples, give me sweet cider. Bulmers in Ireland, Magners in England... It's the same thing, the nectar of the Gods.
Jim G (real live Irishman)
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