The Luck of the Irish

Aww. Man. Don't even want to get outta bed today. Last night started out well. In theory.

Let me set the scene. St. Patrick's Day. Tuesday. East Village. I'm out having a few drinks with my roommate and his date. They're having dinner, I'm next door downing a few pints of Guinness. They join me awhile later.

I'm a little buzzed...nothing serious. They have a few drinks with me. I decide to shift gears and GET THIS PARTY STARTED! ...uhhh. My stomach. OK. So I order a couple of shots. Let's get into the spirit of things, huh people?

Well...not sure of much what followed. Apparently I was running up and down 2nd Ave singing old Irish chanteys and kissing complete strangers. The rest of the night is a blur.

This morning...all I can say is I've had better days.

Oh no. That treatment is due tomorrow! Shit. Oh man...My head.
















P.S. I'm not even going to attempt a rebuttal to one of my readers who suggested I be more "considerate" and walk out of the room before "ripping a smelly one" (in that readers words). Do you think this is something I'm proud of?

But yes. I guess I could be more considerate.