Nothing special for St. Patty’s, obviously since I’m writing this post at a quarter to 10 on St. Patty’s night. It looked like a typical Friday night except everyone had matching outfits and the drunks were really really drunk. There were just less than last year. I swear I’ve never smelled those smells in my life and I’d rather not smell them again. Parts of the street still smelled like vomit but getting a drink at the bar was quite easy. Probably because I’m a local but I wasn’t elbow wrestling the next asshole for a beverage.

I think the only St. Patty’s I’ve had that’s blown harder than this one was the one in Chicago where a friend of mine told me before going out that my ex girlfriend slept with one of my good friends once I moved to Florida. Yeah, that was pretty bad.