October 30, 1998

Sometimes I make a bit of a fool of myself.

Last night I was at this bar, talking to this pretty Irish girl just off the boat from Limerick. She'd been drinking. I'd been drinking. She was flirting. I was flirting.

A night of meaningless sex was starting to take shape!

"Do ya fook wid yer stomach?" she asked.

"Do I fuck with my stomach?" I replied in disbelief. Before she could say anything, I went on. "No, I've never fucked with my stomach. I'm not sure I even know what that means. But if you'd like me to fuck with my stomach, I certainly will."

"I said," she began in slow, clear, stern English, "'Did it fuck with your stomach?!'"

She was pointing to the shot of tequila I'd just done.

Then her Irish accent returned: "Yer a real fookin arse!"

That, I understood.

 

Broadway Jim Jenkins