Oh man, St. Patty’s Day in Disneyland. There’s definitely something wrong about getting hammered in Disney, but it’s St. Patty’s Day and I didn’t give a fuck. Neither did the million other dbags walking around with green beer and tacky Mardi Gras beads.
The heat got pretty tiring at times, and I found refuge in some shade, where I flirted with some 40 year old hag for a few minutes.
Later, I got some lunch at a bar hosting an awesome duo band. The rhythm guitarist and vocalist was this fat dude who TORE SHIT UP. I was losing my mind singing along to “Wonderwall”. I tried a tasty new IPA by a local Florida brewer and had some awesome calamari. My bartender was a fake titted bleach blonde 45 year old who was most likely a groupie for Poison or Motley Crue back in the day.
This is a really solid vacation so far.
“Marilee had a slight limp and a list to the left, as permanent consequences of her having been pushed down the stairs by an Armenian. But another Armenian was groping her and nuzzling her hair and so on, and had an erection with which you might have smashed coconuts. I like to think we were man and wife. Life itself can be sacramental. The supposition was that we would be leaving the Garden of Eden together, and would cleave to one another in the wilderness through thick and thin.”