Ugh, what a head on me this morning. Last night I passed out after a case of Guinness. I dreamt I was in a bar fight with Phil Lynott. It was some stupid argument over Dolores O’Riordan. She wanted us both, but Phil wasn’t into a 3-way. Boy does my mouth feel icky.
I hope this St. Patrick’s weekend never ends. This is too much fun.
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