I did it again.
It seems like every time Marcy, me, and any of the girls from the quintet are out, I end up doing something I think I'll regret later, but which seems fun at the time. We ended up meeting here and then going down to this place away out Archer Avenue somewhere (I lost track... Marcy was giving directions). Me, Maureen, Daniel, Jenny and Marcy, and some guy Marcy brought along from the paper named Mike. Anyway, we got out there, and it turns out a lot of people I knew from the papers were there, too, and it was actually pretty festive. They had this Irish band playing, and of course corned beef and cabbage and stew and green beer and plastic derby hats. All those good old "traditional Irish" trappings of the holiday.
It was pretty crowded, and Marcy introduced me to some of the people I didn't know. A few of them had seen the things I'd done a year ago or more and asked me why I wasn't still writing the freelance stuff. I told them basically that I wanted something more long term and didn't like driving all over the place -- which was true at the time, but now that I like driving again, maybe it's not as big a deal). Anyway, I had decided to wear the green dress, and somebody stuck one of those little plastic hats on my head. It was kind of fund just sort of watching the room. I was amazed at how much Bailey's Irish Cream was getting dispensed. I never much liked the stuff, but I guess this one night a year they sell out.
After a while the band stopped playing and they had a piano player instead, and everyone was singing and carrying on. I actually had some of the green beer, which tasted like bad lite beer with green food coloring in it. That was enough of that, so I had some wine instead and spent a lot of the evening with Jenny, quizzing Maureen and Daniel about their torrid affair. They were actually pretty funny about it, and they told us some of the lengths they went to to hide it from us, like one time Daniel had to sneak out the back of Maureen's place and then walk around the block with his horn when they heard us coming up the stairs, just so we'd think he hadn't been there since Friday afternoon. I have no idea why they felt a need to do this.
We left around 11:30, I'd guess, and when I got home after letting everyone else get back to their cars or houses, I looked down at my chest and there was this little green foil shamrock sticker stuck about an inch down in my cleavage! I have no idea how it got there. It's not like some elf (well, a pretty tall elf) was skulking around sticking stickers on the bosoms of tall women. I really have no idea where it came from. That led me to wonder if there were other parts of the evening I didn't remember, and I really have no idea. Bear with me, I'm not zoning out or anything, I just don't remember anyone sticking anything to my chest!
This is a very strange city and this is a very strange holiday. I stuck the shamrock sticker on the bottom corner of my bathroom mirror. Just as a sort of reminder to me to keep track of what happens to my chest in public.
Still a reminder: you can leave comments in my guestbook if you want to. It helps to know what you all think.