But this time, in the color green. Yes, yes, yesterday was St. Patrick's day, and so the Fiddler, the Hamsterfish and I, along with our old pal Ian, decided to visit Parasol's for the festivities. Well, may I say that these Irish people are a whacked group indeed! But they do love to drink, so I've got to give them that.
We drove there in the Fiddler's new Range Rover. Quite a machine!
Torso. Mucho Torso. Me like.
The Hamsterfish was in a bit of a bind. Seems that the only two women he has dated in the last 9 months were there, about three feet from one another. Even after we went to the Bulldog, the same thing happened.
One of them was named Joyce, and somebody had vomited on the side of her face. Her silly friend Amanda had a similar affliciton. Nobody seemed to mind, though, which was weird. They kept referring to it as face paint, but I knew better.
Later in the evening, I met another woman named Amanda (seems I have a problem meeting women with this name.) I was so taken by her beauty that I offered to immediately fly the two of to Aruba where we would frolick, drink mimosas and "don't bother knockin' if the hotel room's a' rockin'" but alas, she left me for a quiet evening at home. Such is the life of an Ostrich in the big city these days.
10 years ago