You would be cooler if you were Irish- A Weekend Tale

Saturday, The Boyfriend and I drove into town to attend a friend’s birthday brunch.  This was a friend I haven’t seen in about twelve years. The details as to why we lost touch are pretty complicated so I’m going to just make something up:

We were both kidnapped by aliens, forced into boring and mundane rituals which sadly didn’t include fun things like celebration of birthdays and holidays. We were brainwashed about the evilness of THIS world and were forced to do unsightly things like knock on people’s doors and force our entrance upon them with promises of a new kingdom. Fortunately, we overcame the brainwashing and quietly left, but being that we left without controversy and fanfare…we lost touch with each other.

Recently, she found me on Facebook and we quickly reconnected via texts and phone calls. However, actually getting together proved to be problematic as there have been forces keeping us apart such as bad weather and work schedules.

Finally, this past Saturday, for her birthday…we managed to see each other and celebrate a day we wouldn’t have imagined celebrating 17 years ago. (Although based on this alien doctrine she and I  will not be inheriting the kingdom, but we did inherit a fantastic array of food and a good time that morning.)

After brunch, The Boyfriend and I went to his sister’s house to deliver bananas.* On the way to her house, The Boyfriend started up again about the cost of the electricity bill. The reason he had to lecture on this subject for the 9873682th time is because I had the audacity to ask when had he become a cranky old man?

Well, it turns out, the reasons that he’s a cranky old man are as follows:

  • I suck the life out of him
  • I don’t know how to put his precious blow dryer back in his bathroom
  • I steal his socks
  • I suck the life out of him
  • I forget to go around the house and unplug every electronic device that isn’t being used… like my grandmother used to do when there is a lighting storm. Doesn’t matter that there isn’t a lighting storm…I am ruining his carbon footprint by not unplugging the toaster.
  • I suck the life out of him

We visited with his sister for a few hours and then decided to party it up, IRISH THUG style at an Irish bar, equipped with Irish music and leprechauns. At least, I think there were leprechauns, I can’t be too sure as being in an Irish bar is pretty intense with all the kilts and limerick challenges happening. Instead of a dance off, there was a limerick contest and whoever gets the most applause wins. What does one win, you may be asking yourself. Well, you win a REAL live leprechaun to take home to kiss, hug and love forever and ever. And you’ll name him George. **

One of our friends, a single NICE guy who surprisingly doesn’t have a girlfriend told me I was very intense. The reason I am so tense is because I’m not taking in enough deep breaths and I’m certainly not breathing through my follicles. I am not making this up…I am stressed out because I’m not breathing ‘through my follicles’ 

Smooth lines like that…how is he still single?

text

After we left the Irish bar, we went to a local bar in town and managed to stay an ENTIRE HOUR, mainly to prove how cool and young we are. Then we went to Taco Bell in which I asked for an application… much to The Boyfriend’s embarrassment.

The Boyfriend: You aren’t working at Taco Bell.
Me: Yes, I am.
The Boyfriend: Why?
Me: Because I suck the life out of you and electricity is expensive.


*Whilst we really did bring her bananas that wasn’t the only reason we were visiting. Although what a great story if I wrote an entire blog post about the delivery of bananas and the feelings ones deal with when having to depart from said fruit.

It would be a love story of tragic proportions.

**No one won a leprechaun named George, mainly because there is no such thing.  However, a girlfriend of mine who was very much drunk and pretending to be a bouncer and checking strangers’ ID’s at the front door,  yelled loudly inside the bar that she loves this blog. You know you’ve arrived when a drunk female shouts (but she thinks she’s whispering) that your blog is &*#*ing awesome!  That is pretty much all the validation I need.

Also…shout out to the real estate agent from Arizona who interjected a serious conversation about fiscal conservatism by asking, “So do Christians have threesomes?”

Irish pubs are no joke, people. 

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