MY trip to Ireland. Because I blog sexy.
A couple weeks ago, I went to Ireland. It was a very fantasia place, with lots of Highlanders. They cut off each others' heads, because there can be only one. Eric was there too, but he was bitten by a leprechaun, so probably won't be posting about it, because leprechauns are a very shameful thing to be bitten by. Don't tell him I told you about the leprechaun. Anyways, they had a bunch of fish in Ireland, and drowned chinese babies. It was fun. One time an irish guy fought me with a sword because I made fun of his kilt, and he cut off my arm. I am now a cripple. I hope to get better soon though. In Ireland I found a kid selling a strange food called Haggis. It is apparently all the guts of a goat, contained within the delicious stomach of a goat. After the first bite, I shook it up and poured it on a villager, it was great fun and we all had a good laugh before they tied me to a stick in the center of town to think on my transgressions.
One of the days I was there I saw the Loch Ness monster. It shot atomic death-rays at my boat, but then my tour guide called up Braveheart and they beat the monster then went on to take over Britain, but we gave it back after a couple hours because they just kept asking if we wanted tea and if they could "bum a fag" from us. I hate britain. It is cold there and the people are ugly. It makes me feel like I'm back in the Orphanage, where they would always steal your blanket and touch you even though they were really ridiculously bad looking. On that matter, Eric's wallet was stolen by the British. I guess that's what they meant by "bum a fag". I told him not to let them, but he never listens to me because he's a jew, and now he's a jew without a wallet.
As we were trying to leave Ireland, a plane smashed into ours. It made me sad. Why would a plane smashed into ours? It made me sad. Eric took pictures, but not of me. I was very unhappy. I got out of the plane and was all, "What would your mother say if she saw you hitting other kids with fully grown planes?" at the pilot of the other plane. We made a layover in Britain. The second time I was there, it was fun! I left a bag of explosives there, tied to the corpse of a muslim that I found. Also I found out that those guards that supposedly don't move ever will move if you start pouring lighter fluid on them. Then we came home. I brought back a souvenir to prove I went to Ireland and British: a dead rat. It smells salty and like goat intestines, and everyone knows the only place to get salty is britain and the only place to get goat intestines is Ireland.
DISCLAIMER 1: Eric did not take any pictures of me in Ireland. Egotistical bastard.
DISCLAIMER 2: There is a distinct possibility I did not go to Ireland.
P.S. Eric is getting mad because I keep acting like things he does is things I do and like he does stuff that he doesn't really.
One of the days I was there I saw the Loch Ness monster. It shot atomic death-rays at my boat, but then my tour guide called up Braveheart and they beat the monster then went on to take over Britain, but we gave it back after a couple hours because they just kept asking if we wanted tea and if they could "bum a fag" from us. I hate britain. It is cold there and the people are ugly. It makes me feel like I'm back in the Orphanage, where they would always steal your blanket and touch you even though they were really ridiculously bad looking. On that matter, Eric's wallet was stolen by the British. I guess that's what they meant by "bum a fag". I told him not to let them, but he never listens to me because he's a jew, and now he's a jew without a wallet.
As we were trying to leave Ireland, a plane smashed into ours. It made me sad. Why would a plane smashed into ours? It made me sad. Eric took pictures, but not of me. I was very unhappy. I got out of the plane and was all, "What would your mother say if she saw you hitting other kids with fully grown planes?" at the pilot of the other plane. We made a layover in Britain. The second time I was there, it was fun! I left a bag of explosives there, tied to the corpse of a muslim that I found. Also I found out that those guards that supposedly don't move ever will move if you start pouring lighter fluid on them. Then we came home. I brought back a souvenir to prove I went to Ireland and British: a dead rat. It smells salty and like goat intestines, and everyone knows the only place to get salty is britain and the only place to get goat intestines is Ireland.
DISCLAIMER 1: Eric did not take any pictures of me in Ireland. Egotistical bastard.
DISCLAIMER 2: There is a distinct possibility I did not go to Ireland.
P.S. Eric is getting mad because I keep acting like things he does is things I do and like he does stuff that he doesn't really.
posted by ☭CRUSH you. at 1:11 PM
3 Comments:
Well, I was crippled, but I'm much better now. It's been a few hours since I wrote that you see.
Nah, the rays came from the beast's mouth. They didn't call it Lochy, or at least the tour guide didn't, he called it "British harbor patrol". I thought that was a weird name for the loch ness monster, but hey, he was Irish, he probably didn't know english very well anyways.
Loch Ness is in Scotland, and so is Haggis...
But I totally believe you went to Ireland because 'suspension of belief' theory...it's the same theory I use when I listen to politicians...
I went to Ireland once. It was on a pilgrimage. I crawled up wet, soggy hills on my knees, got to the top, saw a shrine to Mary, and asked the monk next to me, "Is that all there is?" And he said in a thick brogue, "No. There's beer, too." So, we got drunk. That's what you do in Ireland.
Yeah, technically I think Braveheart might have been in Scotland too. Maybe I went to Scotland? I dunno, I wasn't paying much attention really, I was mostly preoccuppied with the fact that a bunch of guys were wearing skirts and I was like "Are you a guy, or a girl?" and they were like "smash your face!" and I was like "ow."
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