Fuck Me, I'm Irish! Well, I'm Drunk. Same Thing.

"You wanna put your WHAT in my
mouth?! Because "St. Patrick
was the patron saint of fellatio?" Well, if you're sure..."

"Airlines are now considering charging for reclining seats. Also, your scrotum is now considered a carry-on bag."


~ Stephen Colbert

Well, I always say, if you can't offend an entire nationality with one blog post title, you aren't worth your weight in green beer, shamrocks and vomit.


With that in mind, I would like to apologize to all of my Irish readers, for shamelessly capitalizing on this demeaning stereotype.

"God, my boobs look big in this top."

I've been missing in action from Bloggerland for almost a whole week now. I suppose I could explain myself, but I didn't actually have time to come up with a juicy story. So, you know. Piss off. Heh heh. How bout instead, you just use your dirty imaginations to conjure up a tawdry pornographic scenario? Then find a way to make it three times dirtier, throw in a pants-less Henry Rollins and an inflatable goat, and we'll just say that that's where I've been for the past week.

"Oh, snap...my boobs look even bigger
when I'm all pensive and thoughtful."

Anyway, as you can see, I have not returned empty handed - I have finally brought you updated pictures of my tattoos, as requested. (The fact that my boobs and my make-up also look phenomenal in these pics is entirely coincidental. So again, you know...piss off. Haha!)

"Oh Christ, I've left the iron on."

Last night, I headed down to the Marquee Room in downtown Calgary to watch two awesome bands, The Deadmen and The Suppliers, at a fundraising gig for the local techie college. Both bands played wikked sets, but the best part of the night was when the bass player from The Deadmen did this:

Ally-up!

Now ride that bass! Yeah. Slap it. It's
a naughty bass. No wait, I mean, I'M a
naughty bass! Slap ME.

Yeah, that's him standing on his bass, while continuing to play. Isn't that fucking wild? It was so awesome, I almost threw my panties onto the stage, right then and there. Except they were too hard to remove without first taking off my jeans, and besides that, I wasn't wearing any. But if I had been, that bass player would have been eating them. I mean, how does he keep playing?!?! That's fucking amazing. I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time.

T'was a grand night, all in all.

And today, as I am sure you are all aware, is St. Patrick's Day. Once again, there is a Stephen Lynch song for that (there's a Stephen Lynch song for being a Nazi, for Christ's sake). I leave you now with this beautiful Irish hymn to share with your family, and also, a subtle reminder that tomorrow is an important day too - your favorite leprechaun and mine, Sugar Free, is celebrating her 18th birthday! Drop by and say hello!

Oh, and if you can swing it, she really wants a pony, too.