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Whiskey Junctions and Cabooze

Friday night was interesting. When I first heard about the St Patrick's Day warm-up at Whisky Junction, I was more than enthusiastic. I am 100% Irish, and celebrate it like the Jews do Hanukkah, with multiple days of festivities (and face it, one can never really fully be warmed up for St. Paddy's Day).

Anyway, I decided to to go this, even though it was in a dicey part of town. When we got there, they were handing out free Killians because it was the owner of the bar's birthday . I'm not a huge beer fan, but I wont turn down free booze. I'm a pragmatist like that. Unfortunately, other than a shittyIrish band, that had an asshole PROUDLY playing a recorder straight out of third grade, it had none of good times I look for in mySt. Patricks day celebration. Adding to the atmosphere of mcdoucheyness, was the fact that everyone there was boring, old, and homely. Not a winning combination We were shocked they charged a cover for this; hell, they should be paying us for improving the place with our presence.

So we decided to walk to a bar nearby, The Cabooze. Even the name inspires interest. It was there that I met my fat twin. Seriously, she looked exactly like me, but 45 lbs heavier. At least now I know I would still be sorta' cute if I hardcore packed on the pounds.



The band playing was a cross between Linkin' Park and keep-your-fucking-day-job. But, being drunk we danced anyway. That'swhen the trouble started (I blame the dude in the band wearing aCosby sweater, that forced me to follow him when he got offstage to tell him he was pimping out that Cosby sweater pretty good for a white guy). There was this cute little blonde chick that INSISTED on grinding me. Being the polite person I am, I obliged. Once the making out started, her boyfriend got pissed and dragged her away. She of course came back, and then there was the inevitable groping. He looked like he wanted to hit me. Good thing I had the Puppetmasterwith me (I call him that because of how he was holding me up at times because of my extreme inebriation), who is not a shrimpy guy like blondechick's boyfriend. Hey, it's not my fault your inadequacies make your girlfriend want to dyke out.

The Puppetmaster could tell I was one drink away from FUBAR and made me go to Taco Bell to get some burritos to soak it up. I will admit to to not feeling my best the next day.

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