That Outfit Is Asking A Lot Of Jesus
This is what happens when your "difficult brown" is once again left lonely and bereft. Sinead O'Conner rolled up to a television appearance in Dublin looking like me on a Monday morning. Roll the fuck out of bed and hope the shit on the floor that you're putting on is clean. If I end up in a Jesus hoodie, unflattering trashbag pants, a woven Rasta belt, and Amy Winehouse's "weekend" ballet flats from the estate sale - so be it.
Sinead's marriage might have ended(?) due to her search for wedding night drugs.
(What was the big fucking hassle for her husband anyways? I'm getting married next fall and I would much rather visit a crack shack on my wedding night then having to do other "traditional" wedding activities. Such as explaining to that willful cunt Aunt Florence that I've banned the Chicken Dance from my reception.)
And her face might be puffed up from the anti-psychotics. But she keeps on pluggin'. I admire her ass. I was briefly touched when I figured that the messages to herself that she had written on her feet were perhaps to keep calm during a plane ride. Many people have a fear of flying. Then I realized she lives in Ireland and took a cab to the studio. And then I realized those messages were probably actually meant for her feet because she anthropomorphizes them or they're instructions for herself when her brown is being transformed from "difficult" to "easy."