I woke up one morning a while ago.
I do that pretty often. Once a day usually.
On this weird Dublin morning, though, it felt like someone had suckerpunched me plum in the face in the middle of the night.
If i posessed the marine hairdo and maniacal penchant for long walks akin to Forrest Gump back in Spain, then my transition to Dublin had somehow turned me into Gump's shrimp lickin' compadre, Bubba.
I still don't know what went wrong with my lip that day, but it stayed for two days and kept me indoors for fear of scaring small bloodnut Irish children.

True Story

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