Nothing Special, Really

Monday, April 14, 2008

Remembering The Good Times

God bless the Irish & their explosive devices.

Friday night, I went out with Wac & some friends for a birthday celebration. Just me and four ladies. Keepin it gangsta.

I didn't really intend to drink that much Friday night, but isn't that how it always goes?

It was probably bad form that I waited until after I left the Irish pub that I ordered an Irish Car Bomb, but since we left so quickly, it was really the first opportunity I had.

When I was in Dublin, I couldn't resist asking the bartender about Irish Car Bombs. It looked like I was probably the 400th tourist to ask him about that. He said that they did without the Baileys, and just called them Belfast Bombers. Makes sense I guess. The name part, that is. I won't do without the Baileys.

Anyways, back to Friday night.

The first car bomb was so good, I needed a second one. Immediately. Combined with the Harp I had at Conor Byrne's earlier, I was feeling quite dandy. But I needed more.

I switched it up & went with a Trout Slayer. How can you resist a beer with a name like that?

We left a short time later, and I ran into a familiar friend on the side walk. A construction sign.

Constructions signs & drunken Matt have fond memories. Like the time after the Nine Inch Nails concert where I went running down the street, arms spread out, knocking down sign after sign (on a badly sprained ankle, I might add).

Or the time I stole valet cones & placed them all outside my roommate's bedroom door.

Or the time I stole a folding no parking sign and took pictures with it all the way home, then kept it in my apartment for 6 months for no apparent reason.

Some people are violent drunks. Some people are sloppy drunks, some people are lovable drunks.

Me, I'm just someone who likes to partake in harmless vandalism.

After literally walking over each sign I saw (4 in total, I think), I had to pee.

When I was in Dublin, I was at a bar with Rachel when I had to head back to the hostel for some reason, I think it was for my jacket. Halfway there, I had to piss so bad my balls were going to explode, which is crazy because your balls have nothing to do with pissing. But it was that bad. Even just a block away from the hostel, I couldn't hold it any longer, so I had to piss in a doorway.

Friday night, I didn't have to pee as bad, but knowing that we were taking the bus home, peeing in the doorway was again the best idea.

I've been on this kick the past couple of months where I've been in a sort of depression. I promise to talk more about that some other time. I can assure you all that I'm doing fine now, but for a while, I was having a difficult time enjoying life the way I did the few nights I stayed in Dublin. Friday night was a reminder of how to find that enjoyment once again. Just a half pint of Guinness, some Baileys, some Irish Whiskey, a couple of friends, and some construction signs are all it takes.

(keep your eyes out for an update to this post with pics once certain friends of mine get around to sending pics from Friday night)


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