April 29, 2006

So It was good, then.

From a pub review in Totally Dublin, a free weekly (reproduced verbatim, though not in toto):

"I'd heard rumors of rude bouncers informing unfamiliar faces upon their arrival at the door that it was a 'locals only' night before. But I didn't encounter any such thing on my Monday night excursion to this Phibsboro watering hole. At least, I don't recall encountering any such thing...

I should probably say a few words about the pub's music. It was ...good? I honestly don't remember any specific song that was played at any given point in the night, but I certainly don't remember myself or any of my mates complaining. So it was good. No question mark.

There is an old-school, classy feel in terms of the interior decor. A conveniently located antique telephone booth neat the entrance is actually non-functioning --- don't be deceived. No worries, however, it was still a good quiet place to ring my mum from my mobile to wake her and remind her that she is the best mammy I've ever had, ever."

Posted by Diablevert at 03:46 PM | Comments (0)

April 23, 2006

When I Say Dublin is a Small Town, This Is the Type of Thing I Mean

A group of us are at a beer garden for a leaving do. The talk passes from sports to injuries acquired while playing sports, to injuries in general, and one of us confesses that whenever he see someone with an eyepatch, he must stifle an urge to flip it up to see the injury below. That makes J remeber a woman she knew once, a habitue of the same bar she and her friends went to in college, tall, blond, striking, always seen wearing a black patch over her left eye.

S says: Red knows her. Ask Red about her.

Just then Red returns to the table, and when she sits, and hears the woman described, she says:

Red: Her? I know her. A friend of mine dated her brother. Do you want to know how she did it? She was riding in the backseat of a car, her brother was driving, his girlfriend in the front, and they got in an accident. The two in the front seat were fine, but she went flying, bam, right into the gear shaft. That's how she lost her eye. Oh, she's a cunt. Used to be known for giving guys rides in clubs, on the middle of the floor, under the lights and everything. In love with herself. Couldn't have happened to a nicer girl.

Posted by Diablevert at 10:28 AM | Comments (0)