St. Patrick’s Day 2006

I took the day off of work and went down­town for some beers and the parade. I did­n’t have any­one to go with, so I did it on my own. I also rode my bike, which was­n’t as bad of an idea as I’d feared.

I stopped by Flan­nery’s, which appeared to have a much younger and wilder crowd than in past years. It almost remind­ed me of Panini’s down the street, with the frat-quo­tient. After 15 min­utes I actu­al­ly made it to the bar and I decid­ed that I need­ed to get all of my alco­hol right away, since I would be unlike­ly to make it back until next year.

I drank my Irish Car Bomb and then had anoth­er Guin­ness and wan­dered around town until the parade start­ed. The entire set of pho­tos can be found here.

While the parade was going by, a girl start­ed flirt­ing with me who looked just like what Jes­si­ca Simp­son would look like if Jes­si­ca Simp­son was­n’t a fig­ment of Amer­i­can pop cul­ture’s col­lec­tive imag­i­na­tion. Except she thank­ful­ly had small­er breasts, was less orange, and had plen­ty of synaps­es to rub togeth­er. I think she was just enjoy­ing her­self, but when she real­ized I thought she was flirt­ing, she insin­u­at­ed that she was mar­ried quite quick­ly.

Why the hell did she ask to get on my shoul­ders then?