Ireland pt. 2

Pat, what is this vile sludge ye be spewin' on our wall, chap? Ganky Hoebag. Anyways, shit. Shit be poppin' up in this little island right here, I'll tell ye what. The cab drivers really do have the gift o gab, that's for sure. After meeting every person, I keep tellin' meself, "now that there's one of the funniest guys I ever met." Seriously. The bartenders, too. They're all hilarious. What's that about? New Year's eve was tight. Right at midnight I was at a bar called Farrington's ordering a guinness. It was pretty cool except I know I would've enjoyed meself much more if I had some friends wit me. Sheeit. A little after midnight, we wandered down this area called "Temple Bar," which is basically Dublin's French Quarter. We were dancing and walking behind a band of Hari Krishna's which were causing quite the stir. Tonight we're going on a literary pub crawl, where motherfuckers are going to be acting out scenes from different Irish novels like Ulysses and Picture of Dorian Grey and shit. Should be poppin'. Catch ye. Fructose munch.