There isn't much to be done here in Limerick 'sides washing the clothes, watching the news and, well, supping the da's whiskey. That's her. That's all, really.
Tonight I did the unforgivable and went looking over my older entries.
Followed up a weekend of utmost non-activeness with merry, merry pissedyness on Tuesday night. The 25th is gonna be a dinger, we'll take Milan and rip 'em a new panino. For sure. Wednesday was more boozishness by way of Grogans - it's built out of spit, I'm sure of it - so last night saw me eschew the possibility of pints with rogue trader Nick Leeson. I would've been there, but I felt my brain and soul had gone numb, and my leg was wicked sore.
Jesus wallpapered!
At least one thing is certain. I'll never go all 'one from the archives' on your unsuspecting faces. What a steaming pile of wank that would be.
11 comments:
I really like the Grogan's being built out of spit idea.
(And did you just blog about blogging - again?)
I think there's also some bits of toasted specials holding it up.
That ruins my plans for a "one from the archives" series.
For sure
built out of spit and poets.
I'm watching you
Meadow - A little bit, yeah. Is this what a funk is?
Holemaster - In the foundations.
Maxi - I've spied your archives, they're utterly superior to my own.
Niamh B - ...to be sure.
Red - And toasted specials.
AG - Chilling, but at least it's contact.
There's a pattern - weekend, Limerick, again. And buses too?
Conan - Yep. Bus down. Slept through it.
You just did the equivalent of a Simpsons 'clip-show'.
What a swizz!
5X - No money back.
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