Hump Day

Today is what we consider "Hump Day". Mainly by working America, anyway. The middle of the work week-two days behind us and two days to go. Just to start it all over again. OK, I have been told that my posts are much too cynical and depressing. I am going to start over again and try to make them as upbeat as my life, I suppose. Not saying my life is completely upbeat, but I do have fun, contrary to what is read on this blog.
My Hump Day is decent so far. I am looking forward to the weekend because Saturday is the annual celebration of St. Patrick's Day. I don't celebrate during the week because, well, because I work during the week and if this year is anything like last year-Those birds are sluts! Oh, if you don't get the reference, I dare not explain. Let's just say Suessical The Musical and drinking since 8 in the morning are not a good combination. Whatever, those birds were freaking sluts.

I normally go to a local bar with my father where he meets up with his cousins. We have a 'normal' St. Patty's breakfast consisting of some sort of eggs, some sort of fried meat and maybe some toast thrown in there for good measure. This is followed up with a green beer. I normally don't like my beer green because I tend not to drink the watered down crap of the college years. And in actuality the meal is not followed up with the beer, the beer is followed up with the meal. You start drinking the moment you sit down at a card table with old-style diner chairs. The smell of grease is not one easily missed from the street, let alone from the doorway. You already know this, so you wear something that you are willing to toss in the "wash immediately or will be ruined for life" bin and have an outfit waiting for you on your bed when you return home in the drunken stuppor you are bound to be in. Every two or three beers is followed by a round of Jagger shots (with a bit of red bull for me, thank you). A round of pool is probably played, though the game can't be taken seriously as you are too afraid a ball will go flying from the table on hit someone on the head. Therefore, you opt for the less risky game of virtual bowling. But, again, this can not be taken seriously because everytime you roll the white ball, you almost slip on the floor due to the grease wafting through the air. Regardless how my time is spent at this dive bar, it is spent. And when I leave around 11am or noon the same words are always utter from my lips "Damn! It's light outside!" You some how make it home (thanking dad the whole way for only having coffee and one shot of Jagger) only to crack open a waiting beer at home so as not to loose your buzz and pass out in a drunken comma. Oh, let the day/night commence! I can not wait! I think I may pass out at 9pm as I am running 6 miles on Sunday...Oh who cares, it's only one day a year you are allowed to get drunk BEFORE the sun goes DOWN without being considered an alcoholic.
Here's to Saturday!

Ciao!