And This little Piggy Cried WEE WEE WEE All The Way Home
Ok, I was never going to share this with anyone, but as it has become a major part of my memory of Ireland - I have a wart. Its on my foot, and apparently it got infected from the nasty ass floor of the pool. Chlorine kills everything, Bullshit! So I had to go to the Doctor. And I don't go to the Doctor unless I am dying. So my foot looks like a potatoe, and I am crying as i am giving the reception people my information, and I have to walk a mile home on the potatoe, limping (and I have drugs.. can't get pain killers because then i will be too drowsy to write the three 3,000 word essays I have due next week). Then it occurs to me. How do I explain to Derek, the supper hot swimming coach, why I can't make it to practice. Because I have a skin infection... no, because I have a wart... no, because my foot looks like a fucking potatoe... no, see those are all bad ways of starting a conversation. ARGGHHHH.