Poor John Travolta. Probably thinks I'm hitting on him just like the priest from Ecuador.
So I was walking around these churches. Jesus flipping Christ - Oh... there you are.
If we didn't believe in God, would we really build these ridiculously expensive monuments everywhere? Now, believe in him! DO IT.
This journal is coming from the heart, man. Too bad compared to most people's hearts mine is more like a smoker's lung. After he has been killed by cigarettes.
"Or we could go back to the Irish Pub" was a wild goose chase. I knew that elderly couple was trying to knock me off my trail. Luckily by backtracking from the church recommended by the potential child molester priest, I made it to "Old Marconi" pub, a.k.a. Patty O'Brien's. I'm going back to the church tomorrow so this was inevitable.
I didn't have to eat here. In fact, I only needed to use the bathroom. Luckily Patty O'B is a firm follower of the "toilet seats are for pussies" doctrine. The wager is thus: "Gather 4 out of 5 participants at Patty O'B's at the same time and Anton will drink for the good old times."
Woke up in cold sweat last night and remembered I lost all my chess.com games. Get a load of this guy!
There's nothing quite like giving directions in a city I don't live in a language I don't speak
Forse - maybe.
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