Wednesday, March 12, 2008

st. patrick's an asshole

My relationship with St. Patty’s Day in Dallas has been a rocky and tumultuous one and I just never know how Patty is going to treat me. The St. Patty's Day Parade and Block Party is one of the only things that Dallas does right and every year I've managed to get shit all over. Everyone crowds around lower Greenville, invading friends' houses who only invested in their real estate because of the close proximity to the annual event. Breakfast tacos are made, bloody marys are mixed and the jovial party generally begins around 8:30 a.m. The parade is usually around 10 or 11 but no one ever goes, and the people who do go are unable to recall it the next day. After the parade, street vendors pass out beer and corn dogs to event-goers who are already in "late night" stage at noon. Local business along the streets are filled to the brim with people wearing wrist-bands and green halter tops. All in all, it's general merriment - except for yours truly.

One year I was in Austin and couldn't attend the event. However, everyone else I knew did and had a good time. However, my boyfriend (now Ex) dropped his phone in a porta-potty full of poo and piss. Don't you worry, he reached in and pulled it out. Then put it back in his pocket. Then set it out in the sun at his friends house to "dry it out", sprayed it with Lysol and continued to use it for, well, ever.

The next year I was out of town for work because I kind-of sort-of lived in San Antonio at the time. That was an especially fun year because everyone kept calling me on my cell to drunkenly slur how much they missed me. Sweet sentiment? Yes. Completely depressing? Yes. A little annoying? Totally. Especially when you're sitting all alone in your hotel room at the Residence Inn.

The next year I finally got to experience it in all its glory. Unfortunately, that's when a drunk girl splashed a little vomit on my flip-flopped feet and we got locked out of my friend's house and I ended up peeing in his backyard. That's also when the Ex and I had our infamous conversation that went a little something like this:

me: "I really want to move to Austin someday. These drunken Dallas whores wearing heels and shorts to a block-party get on my very last nerve. Especially when they splash their vomit on my flip-flopped feet."

him: "You're one of those people who are never going to be happy in life. No matter what you have, you'll always want something different."

Awesome. Thanks for saying something that will haunt me every day for the next two years (and counting...).

Last year my job hit rock-bottom (thanks to a boss who never learned how to say no to his clients) I had to go sell telecom services in a PetsMart parking lot in Frisco (Dallas suburb). When I finally headed back to civilization I couldn’t get into the block party because it was too crowded and the fire marshalls were riding around on their horses, telling people they couldn't come in. I ended up drinking a beer in a back alley by myself, sitting on a cinder block like a homeless person. Not kidding. When I finally managed to talk to my friends (cell service doesn't work because of the swarms of people), they were all hammered and coming back to my friend's house to take naps. I picked up the guy I was seeing (now Boyfriend) as he was walking down the street and the first thing out of his mouth was "Katherine's friend Lacey totally wants to fuck me."

Awesome. Yet again.

Now that I think about it, it’s almost masochistic of me to attend this event and continue to try to date St. Patty. No thanks, “St.” Patrick my ass… keep your hands to yourself, please.

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