What in the name of jaysus happened there?

For 4 nights in a row I drank till I dropped. On two occasions I crashed with an unfinished glass of whiskey, got up the next day and finished it before breakfast. 3 naggins, two bottles and a rake of cans have fallen at my feet and all without the corrupting, diluting influence of a mixer. Whiskey and ice, the worlds greatest partnership.

I have only one regret: his name is Captain Morgan and, although I’ve said on manys an occasion that he is welcome to call the shots on my ship anyday, he let me down badly yesterday. Someone entrusted me with carrying the Captain as we searched for a way into Outside Lands, when they asked for it back I could only give them a smile. Bad move, he was a big bottle, Rua was in a state. That cost me work this morning, memories last night, and a lot of the fun I would’ve had otherwise because I was just too drunk to have as much fun as everyone else. Also, after four days of hard drinking my dehydrated piss has assumed the colour and consistancy of snot. I’ve lost about a stone in weight and my stomach hates me. Still the craic was fuckin’90! I haven’t had a bender like that in ages.

Cocktails tonight?

Cheeky Chancer

Walking into a club last night the bouncer looked at my passport and said ‘just barely legal’ I turned around and said to her ‘ye, its the first time I’ve used a real one all summer’

Lesson Learnt

A few days ago AAF showed up from work with a big bag of legal weed. I resisted temptation up until last night when I had a spliff to get rid of my hangover. Really, I shouldn’t be smoking at all-I’ve already suffered enough at its hands-but I reckoned that one couldn’t hurt. How wrong I was….

First off, I put far more into it than I meant to. Secondly, it was way stronger than I thought it was. Thirdly, I had the worst night ever. It was fucking terrible. My bedroom was full of open coffins, all women and all pleading-some screaming-for help! They were everywhere I looked, it was like we were all floating down the river Styx-black flames exploding up the walls and screams, lots of screams. I couldn’t look any of them in the eye because they all looked so desperate. Then in the corner of the room, set apart from the rest, were three mens decapitated heads rolling around on the floor moaning and groaning. I couldn’t close my eyes either because then my brain had nothing to reference and things got really weird.

It got even worse though. Because I’ve been doing little or no exercise in the last month my conditioning has gone to shit-obviously enough. That’s fine, but the problem is that when my muscle tone drops below a certain level my shoulders start dislocating really easily. Both went at various times last night as I tossed and turned, I think I eventually ended up sleeping on the right with it still hanging out. My back and shoulders feel absolutely terrible today, a mix of dehydration and being completely fucked inside out.

But the worst came this morning. AAF woke up to find me choking in my sleep, he had to turn me over and shit, I don’t even remember it. I was looking in the mirror this morning and have red blood spots all over my neck-I’m a little freaked out to be honest.

This is the cost of one spliff? One fucking spliff, I’m done with this, don’t even like weed that much.

I do witty ye?

My mate from home sent me a text saying ‘Yo, whats up?’…..I wrote back: “yer ma’s dick!”

I am sooo cool

regarding bald bastards and nappies

My sole companion and I left the house in fairly determined mood last night-we were gonna  crack open the nightlife in this city even if it meant forgoing food for the next three days. $40 on taxis later and I’m fucking starving.

Our searches took us all around the city. We had heard good things about Mission so we decided to give it a lash. We do our shopping in mission and it seems like a nice neighbourhood during the day, its a real latino part of town, great buzz off it. We hopped off the BART and strolled half a block down the main road-it was full, and I mean full, of junkies and bums-we turned around and got back on the train.

Then it was off to my new favourite pub ‘Sutter Street Station’(known locally as gutter station). Apparently its considered a complete dive-I think its fucking wonderful. During an internet search for somewhere I can watch GAA I found review after review about how dodgy sutter is but they all seemed to be written by the type of people you don’t want to have to talk to on a night out, therfore, sutter scares off gobshites, therefore, sutter is a gobshite free zone, therfore, I really like Sutter. I’ve been there twice and on both occassions have had absolutely no problem striking up a conversation with complete strangers. To describe the clientelle-this is where we were told how ‘great’ mission was. Also, AAF is the only other white peron I’ve seen in there.

As we’d already been to most of the pubs around that area we decided to go long and check out Fishermans Warf, logic being that the notorious tourist trap would surely offer up something. The logic was flawed, we ended up sitting at the end of the bar talking shite with the barman and this girl on her break from hooters who just “didn’t get it”.

Such an airhead I have never in my life met. She asked me, among other gems, if England was a city or a state. I think we only put up with her for so long because we were a little pissed and she was so unbelievably man-cripplingly hot. Also, we had nowhere else to go and the barman was bang on. He introduced me to some Canadian whiskey which is AMAZING. I think its called royal something, its fucking awesome either way.

We left the pub and made our way to Geary via scumbag taxi driver. Geary is only a few blocks from the Warf but this bastard managed to squeeze $20 out of us whilst coming out with a level of racist mysogeny that even made me uncomfortable-and that takes some doing. Thats what you get for flagging one down with a forign accent in a tourist area, cunt.

Off we went to the Abbey Arms anyway which was as empty as a Mussolini memorial mass. But it was good fun, the barmaid was from the Blanch and a bit of craic. She was probably delighted to see us because everyone else there was hammered….well….more hammered.

And in that drunken rabble, as in all drunken rabbles, there was one true chief. I don’t know his name but I know he’s from Cork and “wisha, hoive got a lot of tiiiiime for Dublin folk”. Here is his story, transcribed because its not funny without the delivery.

The Corkonian(TC): och I……fuckin…New York, y’know?

Rua, AAF and Barmaid in unison: wha?

TC: nah I lived there for years, in… New York, tell ye a story…fuckin..

Barmaid, somewhat disbelievingly: go on

TC: oi used be gettin taxis……PISHED ha ha…..fuckin…….fall asleep in de cab rishe an’dey can’t tushhhh ye so dey take ya to a hoshpital and drop y’off

—-pause—-

Rua: they take ye to hospital

TC: Yup, an ye don’t have to pay for the Taxi! ha ha

Rua: ok

TC: nah bu’I be doing dish whole time righ? an wakin’up in hoshpi’al…..and not paying for de taxiii

AAF: ha, ye…

TC: all the time like and dey knew me in der. An one time, wake up and….see they put ya in a nappy……and I woke up….and all my closhes and stuff were…

Rua: they put you in a nappy?

TC: ye, and all closhes’n’ stuff in d’other room and I knew where I was only few blocksh from home so I could run it.

Rua: they put you in a nappy?

TC: ye and you know wha’I dij? I jush fucking ran all de waysh homes

Rua: in a nappy?

TC, straight faced with no sense of irony whatsoever: ye nappy en all, fuckin’nuts innit?