St. Patrick’s Day has never been a holiday that I have celebrated in an all-out, green beer slinging way. Part of the reason for this is that, while I have had many crazy drinking nights, I am not a huge drinker. More than two or three alcoholic beverages and I am gone for the night and regretting it the next day. For St. Patty’s Day 2008 I told myself it was going to be different, I was going to have a crazy night.
To prepare for the evening, my sister Heather and I went shopping at Fashion Q. I love Fashion Q! Their clothes are all super cute and usually pretty slutty. At 20 years old I wanted to look very slutty, especially since I was going through one of my ex is now dating other girls so of course now I want him back situations. My sound logic was that if I bought a super hot green ensemble and took super sexy pictures of my outrageously fun night it would make said boy jealous/regretful that he lost me.
I might add that part of my “getting over” this guy process had induced me to cut and dye my hair by myself. The hair cut didn’t come out to bad at all, the dye on the other had was a disaster. I am a natural brunette what has dyed my hair so many colors that I could never disguise myself without somebody recognizing me (there goes my life of crime). This particular time I decided to dye my hair deep black on the top and hot pink on the bottom layers. In order to get my hair hot pink I had to bleach it. It turns out that the bleach didn’t like me much and fried parts of my hair so bad that it fell out immediately. While I was devastated that the hair didn’t come out perfect, I was at least happy that it in some ways looked really bad-assed.
So, as I was saying, I was shopping at Fashion Q, which conveniently color coordinates their clothes so that finding green was a very easy task. I ended up purchasing a skin tight, mini-dress with a neckline that buttoned up. I chose to be classy and leave it unsnapped so that my cleavage was in everybody’s face. To match my hair I wore a pair of about four inch studded, black wooden Candies heels that I had had for years. I probably looked like a prostitute who should have been working Downtown, but I felt hot and that was all that mattered.
My plans for the night were tricky. On one had it was my best friend Hillary’s birthday (great day to be born, right?) and she was doing a dinner thing at Olive Garden. Of course I wanted to be there, but it was all the way down near UNLV and I lived all the way up near the Santa Fe (for anyone not familiar with Las Vegas, depending on traffic this could be a monumentally far distance). On the other hand my sister’s friend Eric was having a party which meant drinking and lots of boys to take pictures with to throw on Myspace (remember Myspace?). Both events started pretty close together in time and I couldn’t possibly be at both of them at the same time. It also didn’t help that Hillary wasn’t really a fan of Eric or that crowd (for good reason though) and would never have wanted to join us at the party afterward.
My sister Heather, my other best friend Kaylyn, and I asked Hillary if we couldn’t move the dinner up a little. She said it was fine so after getting ready for the evening we drove all the way there (I’m talking two highways and plenty of city street driving here!). We get there to find that neither Hillary nor anyone else is there. We text her to say we were there and she said they were running late. Running late was actually Hillary not showing up for an hour. By the time she did show up, my group was all tired of the restaurant, hungry, and irritated. Hillary was pissed at me for being annoyed when it was her birthday because she thought I should have been cool with what she wanted and not with what I wanted. At the time I thought she was being a bitch, but she was right, I was the one being a bitch and a bad friend. We ended up only staying for about a half hour and not even eating anything.
The drive back to our side of town was most bitching about how pissed I was about the dinner debacle and excitedly wondering who was going to show up and what kind of alcohol would be waiting for us at Eric’s. Upon arriving at Eric’s house he had ever so kindly made sure that he had some Smirnoff Ice and Smirnoff Triple Black waiting for me. Yes, I was a bitch beer drinker and proud of it! I got tipsy, danced around to Fergie and Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys (and whatever else I could find on Eric’s ipod that was upbeat and completely annoying to the majority of the people there). I stole a tie (from Eric I’m sure) and his hat, and from the pictures it looks like I stole beads from a kid my youngest sister had dated on and off for a while (you know, like the Mardi Gras kind). I took pictures kissing my guy friends on the cheeks and sitting in their laps and just being stupid.
Looking back, I realize that St. Patty’s day really is just a great excuse for drama. I hurt my best friend’s feelings to go get wasted. That was so immature and shameful of me to do. I should have spent time with her. In the end, her and I are still friends to this day, whereas I grew out of the people who were at the party when I decided that getting drunk every weekend wasn’t a good time. The guy I wanted to make jealous ended up turning out to be crazy and I finally saw one day that I had been so stupid to ever date him to begin with.
This year I will be in NYC for St. Patrick’s Day. I think my slutty dress will have to make a comeback, maybe with the same shoes. There is nobody to cause drama with or over, so maybe this year will be a good time. Or maybe I will look back at this post and say to myself, “Why did I have to outdo myself?”
