November 2nd, 2005

Back In Black

Man, All Saint's Day sucked.

Woke up with the hangover from hell and a girlfriend pissed off at me for random drunken shit I have no memory of. Spent the day in the doghouse, with a hangover that would make a normal person want to bomb the Guinness brewery.

Then, the fucking wireless died (it sucks when the person you are stealing wireless from goes on vacation - doesn't he know that I have needs?)

While working at the Internet cafe and doing my best to give Rome Girl space so as not to aggravate the situation, the stray kitty pissed and shit all over our bed and Rome Girl was delighted to have to sleep on a bare mattress since there was no way to get laundry change on a Catholic holiday in France.

Finally I ordered us Rome Girl's favorite take out food. I had roughly six bites before I was overcome with the worst stomach cramps in the world. Within an hour or so I was sweating bullets, shitting blood and praying for an elephant to step on me and end my life of misery.

Couldn't sleep at all with the stomach cramps so I ended up watching the first seven episodes of Season One of The Wire on DVD. Is it wrong to have a hangover, stomach cramps, painful shitting and still be able to lust after Black Baltimore Strippers?

Finally redeemed myself this morning.

Rome Girl woke up before I did to wash the sheets. While down there she managed to break the coin machine - which SHUT DOWN THE ENTIRE LAUNDRORMAT!

After several French people yelled at her and explained that the reason the Place de La Comedie exists is so that there is somewhere to behead foreigners who who fuck with French laundry day she came up in the foulest mood ever.

I went down the laundromat and by some act of god was able to use brute force, a coat hanger and prayer to fix the coin machine. If you understand that I am the least mechanical person in the world you will truly understand how amazing this was. I don't know how to change a flat tire for christ sakes!

Not only did I fix the fucking thing - but the machine ended up spitting a shitload of money at me.

I came upstairs, handed Rome Girl the money, told her I had fixed the machine and she gave me a huge kiss and told me she loved me.

So fucking good to know that even in 2005 fixing shit will still get a boy out of the doghouse.


P.S. On Monday the Different Drummer came up to me in Fitzpatrick's and told me he loved the blog. He's leaving for Ireland in a couple weeks and doing a massive musical shindig at Fitz on the 19th. He told me that he really liked the profiles and asked me if I would do one of him. I could not have been more flattered if Britney Spears begged me to let her give me a blumpkin.

I had planned on profiling him in a few weeks, but since he's going and was very, very nice, I'm doing him tomorrow. My one problem is that despite his fabulous punk rock appearence he is a responsible husband and father so I don't really have any drunken weirdness stories about him on hand. If anyone in town knows of any good ones (they can be true or even just slightly close to true) shoot them off to me at Also, I wrote down the name of the big Irish drum he plays but promptly lost the note. Does anyone out there know what you call it?