Hair of the Dog That Bit You

Oh Bloody Hell. I do believe this is the worst hangover I've ever had. I followed Holly to Dublin and then headed South and caught up to her yesterday in a little pub in Wicklow. We had words over her slipping out like that back in New Orleans. She yelled at me for following her. I had to kiss her to shut her up. Of course that didn't really work. We went back and forth about what the hell she's up to but she refuses to tell me anything. Since it was St. Paddy's Day and there was many a night I had to help a slightly inebriated Holly up the stairs, I suggested we drink. I thought if I got her a little tipsy she might be more forthcoming about whatever she's up to. We drank and flirted and drank and argued and drank and kissed and drank and drank some more. At some point I remember us getting a room. I can even remember us falling on to the bed. Then it's all a blank.

Did you slip me a micky or am I just getting old and unable to hold my liquor? When and where did you learn to drink like that? Do I even want to know?

I miss you, Holly. I'm off to drink this hangover away.