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About Drogheda

So I tried it once—don’t judge me! Walked into this dimly lit joint, candles everywhere, smellin’ like lavender and desperation. The masseuse—oh, she’s all calm, whisperin’ like she’s in a damn ASMR video. I’m lyin’ there, face down, thinkin’, “Am I supposed to talk? Flirt? What’s the protocol?!” It’s awkward, folks! I’m sweatin’, not from the heat, but ‘cause I’m overthinkin’—is this legal? Am I a creep? Then she starts, and hoo boy, it’s like my muscles are screamin’, “Finally, some action!” Pretty, pretty good, I’ll admit.

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Then, outta nowhere, it started rainin’. Classic Irish weather, right? I ducked into a shop on Church Street. It was one of those quirky little places, full of knick-knacks and random stuff. I found this ridiculous hat. It was bright green with a giant shamrock on it. I had to try it on. I looked like a leprechaun on a bad day. But hey, I bought it. Why not?

No title for Thomastown as Grennan College go down to Roscrea