Speed dating in the Imperial Hotel this Sunday evening….
Speed dating my arse. Me mates Shazz and Charmaine text me last night to get my lucky knickers on for Sunday night. The Imperial Hotel in Dundalk are holding an event. I don’t have any lucky knickers never mind any decent knickers! All my knickers are five years old or more robbed out of Primark with big smelly brown stains I can’t get out. Even tried Cif but it’s not worth a shite.
Me Ma is even on at me to go get a man. Jesus I have the whole of Barcroft and Derrybeg rid out and I’ve a restraining order preventing me from going near the Meadow so the men are lucky there.
It’s 20 Euro in and I’ve just got enough out of my dole to pay in and order brown lemonade. Better not forget to stash a wee half bottle of vodka in my bag. Dundalk is extortion for drink. Robbing twats.
I’ve nothing fancy in my wardrobe so I’m going to have to do a bit of shop lifting in The Buttercrane this evening. Boots is tough enough to rob out of. I frigging need tan for my corn beef legs. The state of my fanny. It’s starting to resemble Post Malone. I wish men liked hairy women. FML.
Seriously could you be arsed? What the hell do you say to a man sitting in front of you? Yes I like knitting and stamp collecting when in fact you want to tell him I want my fanny clean hammered off me. There’s nothing that would dry my lily quicker than speed dating. I’ll see if I can nab a couple of victims before I have to pay in. If I’m lucky I’ll nip across to the toilets in The Roma for a quick blasting.
Wish me luck folks.