I'm not wearing green today. In fact, I'm wearing red. It's not that I don't like St. Patrick's Day, it's just FUCK YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO WEAR. Also, I always look for excuses to get mad at people, so if anyone tries to pinch me I WILL CHOKE THEM. Of course, choking a coworker might get me fired, but according to this study, that might be a good thing. But seriously, coworkers, DO NOT TOUCH ME. Or, like, even talk to me.
I have the day off tomorrow and I was talking to Joe last night about how, just a few years ago, I would have been so excited that I could celebrate St. Patrick's Day without having to work the next day. Hell, even if I DID have to work the next day, I probably would have celebrated. I think it was three years ago that Steve, Heidi, and I got my dad (my dad: "Does this make me an enabler?) to drop us off at Harrigan's on St. Patrick's Day in the middle of the week. We had my dad drop us off because A) we assumed the parking lot would be full and B) we all had to work the next day, so we needed our cars, like, at home. It was brilliant, right? We'd just take a taxi home!
We did not take into account that everyone in Dayton would be taking taxis home, and so when we called for one, there were none available. Like, as in, they told us they might be able to pick us up...at 5 AM. At that point, it was too late to call anyone to pick us up because, duh, they all had to work the next day, too, so we walked. It was only like two and a half miles, so it wasn't THAT crazy, except that Steve had recently had knee surgery and still had a brace, I think? And some weird guys kept trying to convince us to come to their apartment? We were all really hungry, too, because beer needs feeding after a while, and I was getting bored because walking was taking too long, so I ran the last mile ahead of Heidi and Steve, I guess to make food? And to get home faster. Sure.
Heidi and Steve got home to find the front door open and me running around the apartment brushing my teeth. I had also dumped a box of granola bars on top of the stove for them. That was me cooking, I guess? Probably safer than me actually using the oven in that state, so they should be happy they didn't come home to find the apartment on fire.
Anyway, Happy St. Patrick's Day!