eyem not justa piece of meat . . .

finished work BANG! on @ 5 and walked as fast as Vladimir Kanaykin to the bus stop opposite the central bank and waited . . . not very long.  the journey home was pleasant, as pleasant as a Dublin bus journey can be, with no knacks listening to their music, or none of them drinking nor smoking.  the journey didint take so long neither, and the time wasted by reading the Times was enjoyable as i read three reviews of movies eyed like to see;





Arriving home the two bitch faces greet me by the bay window, surprised and bewildered they both howl from inside the house filling moo moo with joy, as they tell her in dog speak that her husband is home from work.  eyem happy too as she opens the door and tells me that my steak is waiting in the kitchen, yum yum!  although it aint cooked? what tha fooks this baby? i don’t say, although i do think itt.  the steak is huge, its larger than the freakin’ frying pan;


needless to say the steak is cutt, into six pieces, two of the smallest ones cooked as in eating in Rustic Stone, the four larger ones go pisssh pisssh on the hott pan, and within ten minutes dinner is cooked and enjoyed with English mustard although Bonnie riding Delaney kinda kills mah appetite. . .


They’re two girls . . . we have lesbian doggs . . .

This entry was posted in Animals, Banking, Dogs, Dublin, dublin bus, Firhouse, Personal injury claims, rock'n'roll and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to eyem not justa piece of meat . . .

  1. Yay, people who know how to cook a steak!

    I have homosexual cats. They get up to their naughty business ON MY BODY at night. What a way to wake up…

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