Below is a completely unedited, unaltered stream of thoughts about my day as it unfolds. Some of it will not make sense. I don’t know why I’m documenting this, but here goes.
The clock just passed twelve, and St.Stephen’s Day is over. I’m standing in the Bailey, and I’ve just raised my voice so the woman behind the bar knows I want 3 jaegerbombs. I want three bombs, and cash back. I like the Bailey. I love cream. It’s fitting that Baileys and Cream is a real thing, but I’ve never tried it, so I digress.
I have my three bombs lined up like I’m going to war, and know I’m not coming back. Two fellas next to me think I’ve marbles rolling around in my head. But I don’t. I know the power in this payload, and despite their efforts, these fellas are having none of it. I pick up my bombs like fucking Gatsby with a wine glass and bid them good night.
Half twelve, the bailey is still empty.
One O’clock, still fairly empty. I love it. Three hours of space, and room to move. You could play a fucking five-a-side in the Bailey there’s so much room to manouevre.
At two, it’s off to Hillbillys. I’m inside, and the man behind the counter is looking at me like I want a five chicken tender meal. Not so fast Hill Bill Volume II, I’ll have myself Taco Fries and a Spicy Chilli Cheese wrap. Talk about a la fucking carte dining. 2 minutes later my “rumblies” are being appeased by authentic Mexican delicacies.
By the time I get home I’m fresher than the cold. I’m operating the house alarm like I manufactured the fucking thing. There’s no button smashing here. Oh no. This is red wire-blue wire type precision. With the house done up like fort fucking knox, it’s off to bed.
I’m up the next morning and I must have left the hangover at the door. Head feels like marshmallow. The pink ones-none of that white shit here. My bed is the hot chocolate, and I don’t even care if I’m melting. I’ll be that witch in the wizard of Oz because I’ve got my laptop and three bars of wifi access. You’re not in Kansas anymore Dorothy.
Fresh and ready by two. Time to go to work.
By work I mean into town. There’s a book to be returned. When I go to replace it, I see the new book is half price. Up to the counter I walk like I wrote The Wind in the Willows last weekend. So that’s the new book in the bank and 10 euro coming my way. Cheque please.
10 euro richer on Patrick’s Street feels like I just dropped a new album. Before I know it I’m in Jack and Jones with a 50 euro bonus card from work. They tell me they’ll take the card, I tell them I’ll take 110 euro worth of goods for 53. With the bonus card, I’m only coughing out 3 euro from the bank. Walk out of there like fucking Bradley Cooper in Limitless
By this stage I know I’ve got the motherfucking touch today. I’ve got everything I came for but I almost feel like ad libbing this town venture. Whose to say how many shops I could swindle. The Great Train Robbery Christmas special.
I’m no common fool though, I can Kenny Rogers this and “know when to fold’em”. So I’m off to get me some coffee. Go into Gloria Jeans and there’s white chocolate mocha on the menu. Can’t even fathom any other words they could put in there to make that item better. Coffee in hand I think I’m gonna walk right outta here like Inside Man. But I’m not. Instead I sit there. In ten minutes I’ve got three bestseller book ideas and a belly full of heat. Like Frodo to Sam though; “There’s room for a little more”. So I walk outside into the air with the last of my coffee like I’m gonna find my partner and solve a murder. Instead, I’m walking under a ferris wheel and the city library. I feel like Rockafella with a cup o’legal street high. I built this fucking city.
Running total says I just went into town and came out with a three euro cash surplus. Somewhere in the past, Kyle is balancing a balance sheet in third year business. He smiles. He fucking knows: money.
When I get home I’m told I’m going to see the Hobbit again. I’m feeling so good I think, fuck it, throw me in as the sixth army. With my luck today I’ll have that movie wrapped up in twenty minutes. Meanwhile, it’s time to kick back and watch Harry Potter 3 and write a blog. Oh shit. I am not THAT good am I? This piece just became circular (just like Harry Potter 3). Read the title of the blog: It’s a wonderful life. NO. Sit down. Another circular movie.