Irish Pub Weirdness

While doing a little Second Life pub crawling for my next article I came upon a little place called “Irish Harp Pub” (M). There is a description for the place in search but I cannot read it because it is in a different language. This should NEVER deter you from checking out a place on SL. You never know what you might find.

I never thought I would run into the weirdness that was this little Irish pub.

Things started out normally. The “Irish Harp Pub” is a quaint little cottage surrounded by land that was stunning. I’m impressed that I am not bombarded by shopping, advertising, or crap builds. Before I even went into the cottage I was impressed. I had to take a few moments wandering around the yard.


When I went inside everything was still pots of gold & rainbows. I decided to sit down in a booth & survey my surroundings. I am still feeling pretty good about this pub but things are starting to feel a little too good to be true.

Things Feel Too Good To Be True.

I decided that I am probably just being my usual bitch self. Things are looking good. The place is lovely. Maybe I just need a good drink. I decided to move over to the bar for a few pints.

I'll Take A Pint & A Shot Please.

The prim alcohol isn’t doing a thing to make this strange “Something’s Off” vibe go away. I’m starting to wonder what the rest of the building holds for me. There are no signs saying that I cannot walk through the doorway. No warnings. No notecards. No skull & crossbones telling me to stay away. Since the room I am in is so small I decide that it is perfectly acceptable to walk into the next room.

Little did I know what awaits me. Room full of kegs? No! Stack of dead patrons in a corner? No!

What awaited me was a….SEX TENTACLE MONSTER on a wall!!!!


Take a moment to let it all sink in.

Yes. A tentacle monster. With a pose ball that reads “breed”. In the same room is a sex bed with a LOT of different sexual positions in it.

Telling you that the third room holds a traditional cottage kitchen just seems like a total letdown after informing you that this quiet little irish pub has a breeding tentacle monster in one of their rooms.

I give props to the “Irish Harp Pub” for setting up a beautiful cottage on such lovely land. What I don’t get is this tentacle thing that wants to breed with me. Or watch avies have sex on a bed. (Does it even have eyes?)

All I can do is scratch my head & say to myself…

“What The Fuck Is That All About?”

“Tipsy” Cerulean  

For those who feel traumatized by this tentacle monster here is a lovely article on how to avoid tentacle rape.

You’re welcome.


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