st. fatface day

bar two. at this point i’m sort of on my second wind but also realizing how super sick super fast i’d become. we plowed through some wings, saw a guy fall on his ass, another fight, annoying non-stop drunk cackling woman behind us and like, why do we go out for this? next time i’m having a party, the gaggle of losers everywhere was just overwhelming. worse than last year even. i stole that green sash from the first pub we went to.

big Z was in town, crashed on the couch. good times. the zing of the nite was dick fart and lick more-anus, rick moranis’ pornstar alter-ego moniker. oh yeah and these chicks totally scamming on everyone posing as fake missionaries approached us asking for money to paint green shit on our faces. i said you’re missionaries, can i have proof of that please and the chick just nervously laughed, ok bye then. moved on to another table of suckers. um if you’re a missionary from guatemala and africa why are you in a bar past midnite on st. patrick’s day? don’t you do your work during the day? yes, you would IF you were actually a missionary and not a scam artist opportunist. funny thing that guy selling flowers shows up one minute later.

nicely lubed.

a little wasted maybe yeah i’ll admit.

oh jembe. we (i) ripped on the fact that fil didn’t change out of his after work pub warrior yuppie shirt. IT’S DOLCE&GABBANA. ok ok, sorry.

fil and alex were seriously star-struck for the caterpillar eyebrows guy. they know him from when they were 18, total groupies. steve was just pretending. i was like ok lets go kids my ass is hanging out too much for these leer-bags and you didn’t give me a chance to go home and change. plus i got cocked too fast on jameson’s.

gross potato scoops.

aw look at these nerds, same drink, same meal. it never ends.

gahaha.