Well, I got the hangover I set out to achieve, and all of Sunday was spent eating junk food, wearing pajamas and watching DVDs from the makeshift bed I created on the sofa. We had a good time at Molly Malone's, and continued to party until ...about 11pm at home. Look, I know it doesn't sound too wild, but I'm rusty. J seemed little worse for the wear the next day, but that's young, Irish men for you.
This Saturday is going to be crazy in terms of Irish merry-making. It's St Patrick's Day AND Ireland are playing England in the rugby. I am kicking J out the door to meet his friends at the pub - he'll protest and say he needs to help with the kids, but he will benefit from a proper lad's session. Plus, I can store up the brownie points and spend them when the right opportunity presents itself.
Isn't love selfless?
I'll be honest, I have very little to talk about today. WHAT'S NEW, I hear you cry, you snide bastards. I'm thinking of ordering some spicy noodles for dinner because I don't want to cook. The news was more depressing than usual tonight - a rogue American soldier killed sixteen women and children, execution-style in Afghanistan, Israel is bombing schoolboys in Gaza, we're all going to die of greenhouse gas emissions. I should stop watching the news. If being well informed means being suicidally depressed as well, FORGET IT.
On that cheery note, dinner time!
I am positively depressed, since I just found out this morning that BBC America has been televising the 6 Nations Rugby-and I had no idea!! I will catch the game on Saturday, but still-all those lovely rugby men that went unwatched in my house. BBC America just sent me an email this morning letting me know, I have basically given up on that channel, it is all Top Gear and Gordon Ramsay.
ReplyDeleteIs it wrong I enjoyed being called a snide bastard?