The Time is Nigh

Ah, St. Patrick's Day, a day that is only more loathed than Santacon, when Broadway will become a rippling sea of puke and green plastic beads.

I shall be holed up in my favorite Irish pub, surrounded by expats, wishing drunken passer-bys words that the Irish speak upon this most sacred of Holidays, a wish expressed by them to the rest of the world:

ithe go leor de na leanaí!

Now take these words and speak them, and tell them Auntie Jennie sent you.

Sláinte!

(no subject)

Youd thin in this city where you can get a goddamn humidifier delivered crosstown you could get shoes delivered to a bar on a friday nnight at last call.

i'm not walking in that vomit coated street in my stockings are you kidding me i fucking hate these children these mutherfuckers don't know how to drink