It was a good weekend.
In the Palace, some Temple Bar wastage hole and finally The Globe with the lads on Friday.
Cocktail of stupidity:
1) Eight-ish pints of Guinness.
2) Jameson (mixer optional, Coca Cola in my case)
3) Slippery nipple(s)
4) No food, bar a fistful of Pringles.
My own worst enemy, as 5X put it to me on Saturday.
Saturday: Just 'the two' in The Long Stone with said 5X. The man's a machine - one sup from his first ale and he's "takin' it to the max tonight." Granted, there was some wist in his voice, but I refuse to believe he felt THAT bad about it. I left him to it on George's Street and got the last bus, the residue from the previous night's alement still pulsing in me.
Sunday? To Dakota. Happily Kev rescued me after scant Stella, otherwise it would have become raucous. Made merry at home.
It's Monday now, I'm not long back from town. I bought Pearl Jam 'Live At Benaroya Hall,' Fargo for a tenner, biography of Marlon Brando for four beans - you can't go wrong - Vanilla Sky soundtrack (featuring Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill!) and the new Frames single, which is a bit of a dirge, truth told.
I'm due a bit of yin, I'll take it to the yang on Thursday at a table quiz on Baggot Street. No shots this time.