For future reference, if I ever say something like, "hey! I think a shot of Irish Whiskey would be quite yummy right about now," I want you to slap me. Strike that! I want you to pummel me into a drooling mess. You have my permission, I won't press charges, and trust me, you'll be doing the world a favor.
I awoke this morning with a taste in my mouth that was suspiciously similar to the taste of a bathroom floor in a Belfast oil refinery (just don't ask me to explain how I know what an oil-refinery restroom tastes like, okay?). And, to make matters worse, everything I put into my mouth continued to taste a hell of a lot like cheap Irish whiskey. Coffee? It tasted like Irish coffee (not bad). Orange juice? It tasted like Irish orange juice (very bad). Toothpaste, mouthwash, battery acid: everything I put in my head served only to remind me what a damn stupid fool I was the previous night.
The good news is that I had a LOT of fun, apparently. I remember a conversation with a school-teacher. She asked why I was more tan than my pasty twin brother who I dragged along with me kicking and screaming. I told her something about being in the porn industry, and the scary thing is, I think she believed me.
Then, the ubiquitous angry boyfriend wanted to pound some much-needed sense into my head. And, when he came over to tell me that he wanted to put some lumps on my noggin for staring at his lady-friend, I had to explain that though his girlfriend is really attractive, and that he's probably a pretty lucky guy, the reason that I was staring at her had little to do with her delicate beauty, but rather, I found myself fascinated by the huge gravity-defying booger dangling from her nose. And, the more I explained, the more he seemed fascinated by it too. Who says I have trouble making friends? We even sealed our new-found friendship in a drunken pact involving Kleenex and even more bad whiskey.
Anyway, I seemed to have survived another St. Paddy's day. I don't tend to tear it up on many holidays, but this one's always fun. So is Arbor Day, but that's another story.
See ya,
Dan
Dan, don't you know the dangling booger is the Irish equivalent of the worm in Mexican tequila? You're supposed to let that nasty thing fall to the bottom of the whiskey glass and slug it down like some tasty tapioca. As for your breakfast, next year try a bowl of Lucky Charms bathed in Bailey's Irish Cream. Did you find any strange clogs parked by your bed this morning?
ReplyDeleteHow old are you....... about 5?
ReplyDeleteThis is disgusting and the person who added her comment is even worse.
Have you no respect or dignity???
Thanks but no thanks.......... I will no longer read your journal...
Ohhhhkris, I really wish you would come back. You are the perfect barometer to let me know that what I've written has come across to the reader as I intended.
ReplyDeleteHere's the difference between you and I...I was also eating when I read Dan's entry. Only, unlike you, I laughed so hard, it came out my nose, and ya know what? It tasted just as good the second time.
umm dear dan, umm...(can't stop thining about that bugger!)
ReplyDeletedrat! umm..(boing) you have atwin???? nawwwwwwwwww
not You Dan! lol
natalie