I've realised something: with the way I've been sharing my exploits with you, droogs, if I were to, say, have a complete mental breakdown, start dressing in chinos, start drinking Faygo and listening to Yani, and decided to confide this in you, reach out for support, you wouldn't know whether or not to believe me. So I've decided to give you a little test - I'm going to run a few tales past you, let's see if you can tell which, if any, are true. Here we go. Two weeks before I came over here, I was walking down the street and someone dropped a can of Coke out a window which hit me on the head and sent me on an amazing journey of discovery. There's a video in existence featuring me in a trench coat, a green wig and snake contact lenses dancing to Mr Saxobeat. I ate a burger in Marrakesh called the 'Kamikaze Colon' which caused me to shit myself thin and gave me stomach problems for the rest of my days since. I once accidentally signed up to join the Ku Klux Klan - I thought it was a joke, but it turned out not to be and to this day I've never gotten round to terminating my membership.
How'd you do? Onwards! When Nancy got home, I'd already done a whole lot involving a lot of arse scratching, reading DVD cases and covering John Cage's song '4'33', but I was soon to be doing a whole lot more - we were going to Irish pubs. But first, a stop at #3 to let her smoke and to pick up the other half of our party squad. Reckon it'll catch on?
Quick stop at Zia to grab two of me favourite films to educate these cretins - also grabbed a grab bag, which is ten totally random CDs in a bag for you to buy and open. These are some of the bands whose CDs I got, and I'm not making any of these up: Rest In Pain; Reptilicus; Soundtrack Mind; The Reptile Palace Orchestra. My luck was clearly not in.
At O'Briens, I was suitably impressed. It was twice the size of our pubs, there was no drunk in the doorway and people were smiling, but aside from all that it could've been a pub of ours. Seems everywhere I go though Guinness is overpriced and those paid jukeboxes don't even play your songs. It had a smoking area too, which was literally one step from non-smoking.
We tried to go to Seamus McAffrey's, but no luck with parking. So, we got Chinese, drinks and that and went back to base. I forget what was on, but we had our silly little discussion on God knows what and then went home. There I did my usual eating myself into oblivion and we stuck on one of the best films ever. Ni!
"No matter where I go, there I am"
In a bit.