smileytraveler

Hotel Bar – Dublin, Ireland

Bad wine, good people. There's a wedding today so the place is filled with ruffles, sparkles, organza, and color.

And hats!!!

Oh, the hats are f'n killing me.

We don't have hats like this in the States – not even on the Palm Beach society types. Hats, yes. These hats? I've only ever seen them on the covers of British royals dirt mags in the supermarket checkout line.

Ruffly, wired numbers in flower shapes, pinned to the side of the head. I didn't realize common folk wore them. A-fuckin-dorable! I need to get me wonna those.

And there appears to be two brides? I'm so confused...

The women are so sparkly. I don't ever see sparkles, either. In the States, generally, you only see sparkles at Latino affairs, such as quinceañeras, or at...

Um...

Fuck it. “Lower class” shindigs. Let me put it this way: where I come from, if you are not Latina, there is no acceptable level of sparkle before you're trashy. One fuckin' sparkle is too many sparkles.

Here? I dunno. First time here and know fuck-all about Irish culture.

The women are incredibly beautiful, though and are having a great time.

Speaking of the women. I don't know if it's this family in particular but I can't help but notice how large the women are. Not large in a Midwestern kinda way, but in a linebacker kinda way. Thick and tall. Solid looking.

It works, though. They all have absolutely beautiful faces with killer bone structure.

And the boobs. Oh, lawd. All of 'em, I tell you! Ginormous, luscious, round, puffy, (American) football-shaped boobs, shoe-horned into bodices that make the boobs appear not to be attached to them, but rather are trying to suffocate them.

When I first got here there was a group of little girls playing in one of the booths. One of them looked like she couldn't have been more than eight, but she had this enormous, fully-formed rack. I thought holy shit. It made me uncomfortable to look at her. (The long press-on hooker nails didn't help either. But who am I to judge someone else's culture? We're the prudes.)

I figured it must be something in the food. Maybe like, I dunno, weird hormones in the mass-produced dairy?

But after seeing their moms and aunts it became crystal clear.

It's genetic.