The best holiday has come and gone so fast I couldn't even blink an eye. But while we all live in different areas, Paddys day pretty much happens to us all the same way.
The days leading up to THE BIG DAY are full of excitement, green, and the promises of funneling before 9AM.
And on March 17th everyone is Irish. Except for those fuckers who wear the "kiss me I'm not Irish" shirts. You aren't in the club. Those are the worst.
The day starts out strong. Shots are poured and everything is green. Note: your vomit will look like a lava lamp.
At this point it's only noon....
Life as you know it will never be this wonderful. The luck of the Irish is with you.
Until you get home and see your bed... Or don't see it. At that point you are probably so drunk you could be blind.
March 18th is the worst day of the year.
But then you remember your Irish so you say your prayers and slug one back. We invented hair of the dog