Saturday: Woke up at 7ish begrudgenly. At some sweet eggs and rolls via Ellen. Had a Guinness, while we waited for Helen/Eric/Beth to show up. Made rum and coke for the train ride, and headed out to the Metro stop. Rode train into Union Station, and made our way through to the street. Located the nearest booze vendor, acquired car bombs, Jager shots, and coffee drinks while laughing at marathoners. Ellen guilt-tripped herself into actually helping her work people with the balloon in the parade, so she splintered off around 10.
As often happens on the day of the Irish, the rest is blurry. Thanks to modern technology, I took some random pictures.
Rachel found the Guitar Army, but they decided to bring sousaphones and shit. Why they were wearing helmets, I have no idea. They apprently ignored Rachel as well.
At some point, I put a lit cigar in my mouth. The lit end. It sucked. No pictures of that, thank God.
Umm... Green egg breakfast burrito. Many random drunken text messages and mid-morning drunk dials.
Looking at my sent text log, I see this I sent to Jimmy at 1pm:
"fannit some pluts from kansas but in front of me"
Which should have actually said, "Dammit, some sluts from Kansas cut in front of me". Porta potty lines were borderline retarded after 11am. I do recall my bling-bling brass knuckles ("Cash Money") kept the hoes at bay though, and I retained my spot in the pee line. Actually, they were so drunk I just cut back in front of them.
Um, some lady was carrying around a bulldog with a little hat.
The parade wrapped up around 2 I think, then we had to wait for Ellen to make the trek back from the end of the route, which sucked since it was snowing at that point. Being awesome, we made our way to Panama Red's instead of Maggie O'Briens due to probably insanity. Drank more beer and had much corned beef products. Mosey'd back to the train and made our way back to the land of the IL.
Jim managed to secure a trophy from one of the original vendors on our way back to train:
Having no real use for it, it's now a staple of the Kingston garage/bar.Mandated naptime occured while we watched Accepted with varying levels of conciousness. Rallied the troops around 8 for Taco Bell and more drinking. Rachel and Becky stayed at home due to pain and suffering (puking), while everyone else went to Hurricanes where the drinks were strong, and the hookers were slutty and drunken and gyrate-y. The jukebox of love continues to be more lovely.
Due to packed-ness we departed from Hurricanes around 11 and made our way back to the garage where more drinking was drank. Hung out in the garage for a while with Jim and the Lowns, then decided to make our way to the jacuzzi. Eventually Jim bowed out, then Ellen, leaving myself and the Lowns to drunkenly philosiphize(??) until about 5am. Stupid beer.
Sunday: Woke up around 10? 9? Dunno. Dragged the troops to Spring Garden for the wicked-smaaat omlets and hashbrowns and oraguntans. Or something. Good food, lots of State Troopers. Guests left around noon, Ellen and I slept from noon till 5. Ordered Dominos (the new garlic bread pizza is hellishly awesome but so dense). Watched TV and the Pick of Destiny (awesome) till around 830 or so, then went back to bed at 9.
Whew. Oddly, I suffered no ill consequence from my revelry throughout the weekend (no hangover to speak of). Current theory is that my body doesn't know what hit it.
Stats:
Hours spent drinking Saturday through Sunday Morning:
-16 (holy shit)
Number of Marboloro Ultra Lights smoked
-15 (my throat hurts)
Number of times we screamed at people to spin balloons during the parade:
-93
Number of times we were granted with a spinning balloon:
-3
Number of times retarded hooker at Hurricanes with the nice boobies in the tube top but the "hot chick entitlement" issues screamed "Wooo" whenever "her" song came on:
-8
Number of awesomeness happy good times had with awesome friends and way too much booze:
-uhh...a lot.
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