Happy Saint Paddy’s/ Patty’s Day…my foot

While the debate as to which of these two are correct and should be used, I’m saying another big eff you to another awkwardly dull day. Now, this is by no means a slight towards big St. Pádraig shining over us with his infinite..infinitisim (100% NOT a word), but a grand ‘ol slap in the face to all of those fucktards out there with their fuckery and shenanigans. I swear it, hand to god and everything, that each and every year that St. Patrick’s day rolls around, some weird ass shit happens like clockwork! This glorious 2015 has not been an exception.

Let’s first begin with my accomplice/partner in crime for the evening and indeed in general. She insisted upon buying a green shirt instead of wearing the already perfectly purchased green sweater that she happened to be wearing. No biggie. As she’s dissecting Rue 21’s tops section, she happens to bend over/drop/ who the fuck knows how, but her $400 Oakley shades mysteriously vanish from her body. After realizing that she no longer holds this overpriced and cherished possession, she frantically deconstructs the store in an attempt to locate said possession and thus effectually throwing my post gym buzz straight into the crapper. Thanks bestie. Okay, so this didn’t negatively impact me as much as it did her, but this is my damn story and I’ll be playing the victim thank you very much. After she haphazardly gathered herself enough to come to my place and grumpy gnome up the corner in my room, I took up the remaining bit of time over-primping for a couple of decent brews with my bestie. How naive. We left around 8 something to go downtown and were flabbergasted that the line to our spot was swinging around some makeshift corner. Well damn. Plan B? Hmm… well, she’s never been a planner, so I had to think fast and we headed to the arts district for pizza and maybe a beer or two. And this, my dear sheep (hey, you are following me and all) is where our night took a turn for the foolery. The pizza at this place was edible, but we had a great time people watching and trying to finish our so-called ‘slices’ of pizza that were certainly as large as 1960s Cadillac. After finishing up our fat-fat, we swooped in next door, but not before attempting to help this green lantern cladded rat-mule as he nearly drunkly crashed into us and quite literally demolished a lawn chair with his pitiful attempt to put one foot in front of the other and WALK! We tried to help him and thank St. Patty that green shirt dude sorted his shit the fuck out…or so we thought. We proceeded inside, passed a small group of guys, and headed to the sweet succulent booze. But, pump your breaks, partner; remember I said this story took a turn for the foolery? Say told me that this guy had just dropped his money and it was in front of these guys we just passed. It being noisy in there, I thought she meant it was there. Sigh. I tapped this dude and told him he had dropped it and by the way that he was looking, I knew he was fibbing to me about it. So, being the “aggressive” person I am, I questioned him about it and he gave me some shit about “niggas” this and that…I had to tell him to hold the fuck up, cus I don’t know a thing about that shit he was talking about. He gave me back the money and then tried to skeeze it back out of me by telling me to put it in his pocket. Now, seeing as he’s a 100% random from the street, you wouldn’t catch me putting anything in nobodies, especially not that fools, pocket. Say told me to just drop it in the tip jar. Well now…of course this greedy son bitch wasn’t going to be shaken so lightly and followed us up to the bar where some overzealous bearded drunk starts telling us about the special of the day, while all the while, greedy bastard, apparently, wasn’t going to take the fact that the now discarded (into the damn tip jar!) $10 was gone and kept trying to convince me that the money was indeed his when Say had seen some other guy drop it. Shameful. I just hate that look that people get on their faces when you know their trying to get you. Perhaps it’s the devils face? Who can be sure, but some bartenders were hopefully happy about it later on. Anyway, as we were both severely pissed off, we departed this dreary establishment and headed towards the car to got to…well, we never get that far before getting behind the wheel.

However, before we could make a sound decision, here comes stumbley McGee green lantern shirted drunky boy with key in hand, and booze step in check. Fuck. What do we do? What do we do? We both bug eyedly said allowed. We chose the road less travelled and popped out of the car to try to persuade said shirt boy not to get behind the wheel, which we succeeded in…for a while. But, he went on his merry way and we waited for his next attempt which came promptly 5 minutes later. Don’t fall! Don’t fall! Please don’t fall. Is he getting behind the wheel!?  We again hopped from the car and raced to his side to dissuade him from his life threatening antics once more. He refused to allow one of us to drive him home and freaked whenever we told him we were cops (okay so I’m not, but dammit I didn’t want him to die!) and soon tried to change his tune about his drunken debauchery. Finally, he agreed to allow us to follow his drunk, dumb ass home and let me tell you, he was that drunk because he was driving in circles because he couldn’t find his home! By that time, we were maxed out on his irritating idiocracy and decided to have one last drinky drink at Mr. TAPs’ sons’ place.

This place, as I told Say, I like less and less each time I come to it. There were way too many people in this establishment and it was the hardest thing to order a drink, then actually GET said drink. Ugh. The barflies at the bar acted as if they had a problem that we were standing behind them; I was waiting for him to say something so I could cuss him smooth out. Fucker. He kept that trap of his closed, but kept those colored orbs in his face rolling all over the bar and frequently to our faces. It was a look of a challenge; a look that speaks when no words are ever spoken.

By the end of the night there was nowhere warm to sit so we had to brave the wind outside and attempt to enjoy our stiff drinks in said wind. Quel jour.

 

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