St. Patrick's Day 2006

I really don't know how to describe St. Patrick's Day. I will say that I was out for over 10 hours, and I, along with Sharda, was the first one to leave. The whole day was a blur of green and wine and white russians and pizza and dancing and bagpipes and amaretto sours and all the while I was fielding calls from work. Sorry, work.

A guy who looks like what Balmudo from "Grease" would look like 25 years out of high school tried to kiss me.









Steph saw a bagpiper stop in the middle of playing, throw up and then start playing again. Carrie told some girl we don't know that she is going to invent a catheter that empties into a bag that looks like a cute purse so we won't have to wait in line for the bathroom. These are specifics I can remember. I'm going to need some help from my friends for some more details.

I remember this: someone gave me a whistle. That was a bad idea. All day I would blow the whistle when I noticed behavior I didn't like, and Jen would scream out the correct foul. For example, a girl cut in line for the bathroom. I blew the whistle and Jen screamed, "Bathroom foul!!!" Or we saw 2 people TOTALLY making out up against a wall, and I blew the whistle and Jen screamed, "Making out foul!!!!" It was awesome. Another time the whistle came in handy was when Jace would get lovey with other girls. Because Jace is mine.

Let me tell you one of the reasons why I love my sister. She is tough. I wish I was tough like her, but I am scared of everything. When you're scared of everything, it's good to have a sister who's not. Anyway, at one of the bars she was up on a platform dancing (obviously), and this drunk guy kept hitting on her. He was all up in her face being creepy and at first she was being nice and asking him to please leave her alone. Then he was getting more aggressive and started touching her. So she pushed him off the platform onto the ground. Awesome. Unfortunately Creepy McCreeperson got back up and still wouldn't leave her alone. So naturally I went over there and every time he touched her I blew the whistle and smacked his hand away. Over and over and over because HE WOULDN'T STOP. She asked his friend, "Can you do something about your friend? I'd like him to leave me alone." The guy said, "Nope." So she gave the friend the finger then she pushed the creepy guy off the platform again-this time harder. It was seriously the greatest thing I've ever seen in my life. At that point he gave up. It might've been because Drew got up on the platform next to her or because I think Diane actually injured him, but I like to think it was because of my whistle. You really don't want to mess with me and my whistle.

By the way if that guy is reading this: 1-you're lucky my sister only pushed you and didn't resort to using her fists and/or freakishly strong legs and 2-I've put your name on the national sex offender registry.

St Patrick's Day viewed through my outgoing text messages:

To John, 11:01am (3 hours in):
Supbiatch!

To Jace (who was at the same bar), 11:41am:
Come here. we have a good spot.

To Scott, 12:39pm:
Im in ftkannerys. i mis u. tell derek supbiatch.

To Diane (standing nearby), 1:50pm:
Goddammit

To Danielle, 1:55pm:
Ur g hor. chicos here. fng rays ur a hor!!!

To Danielle and to Gerbs, some time between 1:55pm and 2:03pm:



















To Woody, 2:03pm:
Sup biatch. u ned 2 come heqe now.

To Woody, 2:47pm:
Come hfre

To Diane (3 feet away), 3:30pm:
Pizza

To Jace, 3:52pm:
Where r u? were goin to blind pig

To Woody, 4:02pm:



















To Danielle, 4:18pm:
Oops I did it agapin hor

To Steph, 4:20pm:
Where r u [ed. note: we left her in the bathroom at the previous bar]

To Diane, 6:13pm:
I'm dond with this place. Its 2 flashy in my face

To Woody, 6:31pm:
U = lame [ed. note: sorry, Woody. Though it was quite lame of you not to show up.]

To Diane, 7:01pm in the cab ride home:
R u mad I left? i have a headache and a big blister. [ed. note: Yes I called Woody lame and left a half hour later. And yes I had a headache from a same day hangover. And a blister from dancing like a fool in my Nikes.]

Yikes.

P.S. Thoughts on last night's Grey's Anatomy: Dammit, writers. Why do you do it. I was loving the new playful lovesick Alex, and you went and ruined him. He's awful. I mean he really is an ahole. And he needs therapy. Maybe it would help him be not such an ahole. Dammit dammit dammit, writers. We are fighting.