I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now.
I was looking for a job and then I.... Well, I decided to go to the 'Burgh's St. Patty's Day parade. Perhaps not the best decision, but when your menial job is on the line, you're even having mental breakdowns in your dreams, and you've just won $40 on an instant ticket, you take that as a sign you need to indulge in some alcoholic beverages. Particularly the green variety. And who better to make me feel better about my life than a bunch of drunken yinzers? And they did not disappoint.
Joe Biden, our current vice president, lead the parade with his FBI/ Secret Service cronies. If I had any motivation at all, my new goal in life would be to go into the Secret Service- just so I could have the code name "Kevin Costner." If no one had told me The X-Files wasn't real, I could have been an FBI agent now. None of this "follow your dreams" nonsense.
A few minutes later, the VP of our country was quickly overSHADOWed by a celebrity groundhog. That's right, Pittsburgh got the real thing. Not that second rate, instant ticket scratching rodent. Punxatawny Phil paid us a visit on the lovely 70 degree day so could all laugh in his face at his incorrect prediction at 6 more weeks of winter. Suck it, you little bastard. Suck it hard in the sunshine.
The parade was finally over after about 4 hours (if only I were joking, the Burgh must have a lot of bagpipers and Irish stepdancers who mostly walked). Then it was time for shenanigans in Market Square. It was a glorious afternoon of green beer, drunken old ladies, another Pens victory, getting invited to a wedding, not stepping in puke, not puking, actually remembering the day, Mexican food (but at least I got salsa verde), and Irish Pride(?). Then it was back to the reality of the hell hole, which somehow got so much worse. But I think I still had a little bit of St. Patty's Day fight in me because I was sure ready to deck someone.
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