Since I don't plan to be sober for the next 58 hours, I'll instead leave you with last year's account of St. Patrick's Day. It's a little more terse than accurately reflecting the fun I had, but I wrote it before I met this brutally hot Irish construction worker on O'Connell Street. Ladies, if you're ever talking with a guy and ask him "so how many tattoos do you have?" and he has to pause to tally... go home with him. Seriously. Don't say I never taught you anything.
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2 comments:
Oh, now THAT is awesome.
Dong ding dong diiiiiiiiiiiing....
One of my favorite lines of conversation usually involves having to tell interested women that I have considerably more tattoos than can be visibly seen, but they can't be shown in mixed company.
The results--well, they never get old. ;)
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