DUBLIN

A long awaited trip to the half motherland. A place where the Guinness and Jameson flow like water. A place not known for their cuisine. A land of freckled red heads that will steal your heart and their brothers will either knuckle you out or pass you a pint. I'm on my way to drinking all the Guinness in Ireland at the moment while avoiding eye contact with the local knuckleheads.  I'm also eating some of the worst food I've ever had, and reminds me of my nana pat's cooking. Everything seems have the same flavor profile and looks like the brown frown.  The Irish have a distinct style I might add, The Dublin uniform as I like to call it.  One consists of either an adidas windbreaker or sweatshirt, accompanied by trainer pants and a pair of runners. I've been staying away, but shit, these are my people. Then you have the neatly dressed bartender in a  white shirt and tie. He's the one you really have to watch out for. He will get you shlammered from the time you wake up til the time the bar closes. So I've heard.?!?!.. The women well..... The women have something that's is quite interesting. I find them attractive, but I'm also attracted to the freckled and pale type.  There are no shortage of watering holes in this dear city, but picking the right one can be a tough challenge. I'm not looking for the yuppie, pass me a pint with your loafers on. I'm looking for the old man chasing his pint with a whiskey at 11am kinda spot. The kinda spot where everyone is yelling and I can't understand a fucking word what anyone is saying even though it's English. Where the beef stew is in a pot at the end of the bar served in a dirty bowl. This is Probably why I have diarrhea, but that's another story. As I write this someone I think someone shit their pants at the bar. Hahahhhh I'm not even kidding. True story. Nasty ass...