As most of you know, St. Patrick's Day was yesterday. That is the only day that I fully accept my name and heritage to its fullest. I was in bed with the Interpreter (I'll explain that later) when I got a phone call from my friend Erika. She has previously mentioned possibly working for her during the parade, but the phone call at 8 am was a little rough. I had to walk about a mile and the parade wasn't supposed to start for another couple of hours. Immediately, I was offered a cherry bomb. Woo. What a way to start off a day before 10 am. I was working a beer tub with giant 24 oz beers. I was instructed to make them green.


It turns out there is a trick. Poke a hole in the food coloring so you don't get it all over your hands. These are my hands after several hundred times washing my hands. They were bright green last night.

I was definitely drunk by 11 am. They kept giving me alcohol and jello shots and green beer. And I kept drinking them. I was standing on top of a crate screaming jello shots and PBR to try to get people to come buy them from me. It mostly worked. I was fairly busy all day. I don't really remember seeing the parade. I think I noticed it at one point. It was fifteen feet in front of me anyway. Who wouldn't have missed it? I got so drunk that I almost fell off of my crate. It was pretty ridiculous. I got several numbers from girls pawning out their hot gay friends. Apparently, I was approved for dating these boys. I thought they were hitting on me until they gave me their boy's numbers. I pretty much had a great time and was hungover by 8 pm. It was a bizarre day and my first St. Patty's Day Parade ever. I will definitely be going back. I lost my voice from screaming all day. I was pretty much wasted in many forms of the word.

The Interpreter. I went home with him Friday night after he told me how hot I was and how he had a crush on me since the day he met me. So, seeing as how I was drunk and my roommate was gone, I decided what the hell. Let me set up the entire scenerio. I was supposed to go out with my co-worker, Ava. She got locked out of her apartment and didn't have money or her ID. We went to Amp and then I left her at the Diner so I could go to Novaks. He was at Novaks, drunk as shit I might add. We started making out and he invited me home.

After inviting me home, a fight broke out and I almost got in the middle of it not doing anything. I gave Ava my key and she drove me to his apartment where I was meeting him. He picked me up and took me to Del Taco (talk about worst fast food ever). The car behind us got out of line or something and then tried to get in front of us. A truck behind us started honking and yelling. It basically looked like a fight was breaking out because everyone was getting out of their cars and yelling and kicking the vehicles. The Interpreter called 911 because it was getting intense. After that fiasco, we went back to his apartment and made out some more and then went to bed. He has a waterbed. How 1980 is that? That is basically the end of the story because he passed out. We cuddled naked and I got the phone call in the morning so we didn't even fool around in the morning. I left him a note telling him to give me a call. He has not yet. Oh well. It was interesting to say the least.

Happy St. Patrick's Day. Live green.



P.S.--Who doesn't love the new blog design? This was exactly what I asked for. I love it.