Being Irish, Sinead O’Connor gets some extra leeway with her behavoir. We all know those Micks love their booze, and brawls, and extremely long and inappropriate limericks.
But even St. Patrick himself is giving Sinead the “Bitch, you cray cray!” side eye after she decided to debut some new ink. On her face.While performing Friday at the Bestival music festival on Britain’s Isle of Wight, Sinead took the stage and showed off the letters B and Q on each of her cheeks. Having them done in red ink just makes them look even creepier and really drives the “WTF” factor home.
According to a blog post on her website following the show, O’Connor revealed it to be the initials of some dude who apparently broke her heart.
Brendan Quinlan.. “It’s what it is” … Un ange passe ; )
There’s a bottle of Agent Provocateur in someone’s room
that belongs to me.
Now, I had to Google what the hell Agent Provocateur was, and it’s apparently a $30 bottle of perfume. I was thinking it was going to be some booze and not perfume, since from every photograph I have seen, Sinead looks the furthest from feminine.
I was not even sure Sinead showered, let alone cared if she smelled like roses. Maybe she has a lot of French friends and a perfume bath is the closest thing to a wash O’Connor does? And “Un ange passe” translates to “awkward silence,” which is a serious understatement for the entire situation.
Now it seems that no one really knows who this Brendan Quinlan is, but I am pretty sure he’s in hiding somewhere, quite fearful of getting “Misery”ed by O’Connor. I know I would be.
I have no idea what this Quinlan guy could have done that made Sinead go “Oh yea?! Face ink!” but I assume it had to be pretty bad. He probably turned out to be Catholic or said Bono was the best musician ever to come out of Ireland. Poor guy.
A few years ago, Sinead brought out the “uck” factor big time by posting a blog looking for a love attached to a real life peen because cucumbers were starting to look appealing. A few months later she got married out of no where, separated before her next menstrual cycle, and then reunited for some gross naked belly slapping time (which she graciously shared details with on her blog.).
Given her history, I don’t know how anyone who isn’t on an Amy Winehouse level of crack would go near her with a 10- foot pole, but I guess there are still people out there who want to hear her sing “Nothing Compares 2 U” live from behind.