Happy St Patrick’s Day

Well it is that day of the year where we all rush out to celebrate St. Patrick ’s Day by drinking green beer and pinching all the ladies on the ass (or where ever you feel you can get away with it at) who are not wearing something green.

I always love this day each year as it is a simple excuse to leave work early and head to a bar (or home) to get completely fucking shitfaced.

If you are not new to my blog then you are aware of how the 10 % Theory seems to always cause me to have some kind of a major fuck up in my life at times. If are you new to my blog please go read all my posts with the tag for the 10% Theory and you will see what I mean on how my life screws up sometimes.

And the tale I am about to tell is no different than any of the other tales I tell, this one is a very real true story.

So a few years back on St Patty’s day a bunch of my friends decided that they would all meet up after work at a local Sherlock’s Pub for drinks and to watch this local band play. Since I didn’t have my kids that night I was game for some green day shenanigans to say the least.

I left work a little bit late and headed out for the 30 minute drive to the Sherlock’s Pub that we normally hang out at. When I got there the parking lot was beyond crowded so I had to park across the street.
 
I fought my way inside the overly crowded bar (which I am sure was WAY over the fire departments limit for that building) trying to get near the bar to get myself a pint of the green beer. It took over half an hour to get ONE DAMN BEER. Did I mention that this joint was crowded? Because I think I forgot to mention that the bar was crowded.

I bought myself TWO PINTS of beer because I knew Jesus would be back on earth quicker than I could get more beer from the bar.

Once I had beer in hand I set out to try and find my friends inside the bar. I texted a couple of them and they said that they were near the stage. It took me about 20 minutes to squeeze my ass through the crowd to get near the stage. After running the gauntlet to get to the stage I now knew what those babies went through for all of those months inside the octo-mom. Did I mention that it was crowded yet?

After standing there trying to look and see where my friends were at without success, I began texting them to ask once again where they were. They all responded that they were standing in front of the stage. I then climbed onto the stage (the band had not yet started playing) and started looking around the crowd still not seeing them.

I then did the smart thing and called one of my friends while still standing on the stage. I asked again where the hell they were at with the same response, “in front of the stage”. I told my friend, “I am standing on the fucking stage, can you see me?” They responded, “No there is no one standing on the stage.”

Then it dawned on me, I am at the wrong fucking Sherlock’s Pub location. All of my friends were at the location 10 miles up the road.

I got off of the stage and fought the crowd to get outside to the patio where I could people watch, drink my beer, and smoke my sorrows away. Good times.

I mean who goes the wrong fucking bar? I do apparently.

I finished my beer and headed home without even trying to go to the other location because I was so pissed at myself for being a dumbass. When I got home I checked the evite thingy and yep I had misread it and gone to the wrong location. At least I had got to have me some green beer.

So think of me while you are drinking your green beer today and make sure that you go to the right bar to celebrate if you are meeting your friends.