The Irishman Speaks and All Shall Listen

screw all yall!

yeah, it has been awhile... so screw off, I was busy. REAL BUSY... where to start... I don't even know. Well, its august now, although its been nice these last two days, the weather still sucks like it did in june, except july was freaking hot from what I remember (I was drunk for most of that month). I'm still irish, I still drink, some people have come and gone, friends and family, and some have done stuff. Wow, that was informative. It is hard to come up with intelligent thoughts when you have a cold in freaking august, so cut me some slack. Maybe I'll just randomly start new paragraphs and hopefully I'll cover the last few months over the next coupla posts. Where to start...

hmmm, so my sister in boston is now Mrs. Gordon. Weddings are freaking awesome. Taking jaggermyster (sp?!) shots with your soon to be brother in law six hours before his wedding was awesome, albeit disgusting after 12 hours of drinking the night before. Banff is cool. Mostly when your wacky cousin who works there knows everyone and can manage to grab a wedding party of 60 enough booze to keep the party going on the saturday night after the reception at 3 in the morning. But on this note, we need to take a moment of silence. In the hustle and bustle of getting 60 people running out of the hotel before the cops showed up, sadly we suffered a casualty. Declan, my reggae singing, trouble student teaching, and bermudian masta had me obtain two bottles of good ol Jammison (irish wiskey) from his trunk to toast the bride and groom in the room. We got about one toast done during my brother's impromptu "jam session" with 4 other guys on the guitar (read: not smart in a hotel at 4 in the morning), before the hotel nazi chick came chasing us off. A warning, then a minute later, forcing the door open with her elbow sandwhich into my oldest sister siobhan(read: 5 foot nothing wimp), which set off a bit of a riot. Anywho, we manage to call cabs and stumble off towards my cousins pad in banff. The tragedy occured when entering a cab, my cousins dumbass friend managed to smash a FULL bottle of jammison againest the cab door. RETARD! To say the least, declan was pissed to all heavens. Not from the waste of money, but the waste of good drinking that was to come! That really is the only bad thing I can think of from that weekend. I know I've said this before, but I have never been that drunk before, and don't plan to be until the next wedding. Oh, one other thing. I set a new record that even impressed my brother, not 1 fisting, or 2 fisting, or even the adventurous 3 fisting beers at the reception. READ: 5 beers at once! I'm so proud I could cry.

WEll, that is the general good times of the wedding, my nose is a hose, so I'm gonna clean the plumbing and grab some grub, then continue with the random stories from the summer. Till than, keep the beer flowing, and the good times rolling....

-they call me c-diddy in the hood

posted by The Irishman @ 10:53 a.m.