Prior to connecting with Oreggano for hooley with Plastic Paddies at the local pub, I had to attend a business meeting. The meeting was going just fine until one of the attendees decided to flash a little Irish temper and shouted out, “This is bullshit!” She continued ranting (imagine Linda Blair in The Exorcist) for about 90 seconds, then announced, “I need a break!” For the grand finale, she stormed out of the room and slammed the door. As this transpired, I looked at the cold coffee in my cup I thought, “This is bullshit. I’m mitchin’ this place, heading to Oreggano’s house and getting some good old fashioned Irish coffee.”
Upon arriving I was welcomed by Tree and Irish coffee. Cream of Tartar was busy teasing what was left of his lovely locks so they would stay in place the duration of the festivities. Tree, having “a job, kids and responsibilities,” – something he only started saying since he got a new job and began helping his sister with her kids – only had a cup or two and then had to leave. It was around this time that It’s The Eyes arrived.
It’s The Eyes loves green and was fully equipped with extra clothing, make-up and accessories. Oreggano and I decided to use some of the eye make-up. “I hardly ever wear eye shadow,” I stated. “Me neither,” said Oreggano. “Not me,” said It’s The Eyes with great Irish pride, “I wear it all the time. I love hooker eyes!”
Once we were hook’d up, we started applying temporary shamrock tats and stickers on our faces and wrists. Cream of Tartar, who bore a striking resemblance to Charles Montgomery ‘Monty’ Burns form The Simpsons, joined us and I painted a four-leaf clover on his landing pad. With all of our accessories in place, we started our walk to the train.
While waiting for the train, It’s The Eyes was telling Cream of Tartar he was a man of much luck to be with three beautiful women. “Especially looking like that,” Oreggano said while eying his newly bald head. “I don’t want any pictures with you today.” Another patron waiting for the train looked at his head, then looked at me, and mouthed, “It does look pretty bad.”
As luck would have it, we were able to secure several tables for our group. In the process, I had the privilege of meeting a real live librarian. It was at this point that I knew the luck o’ the Irish was upon me. As It’s The Eyes and I were discussing our luck, she confidently informed me, “It’s the eyes.” She might be on to something.
Several Irish Car Bombs into the craic, Passed The Sniff Test, Dr. BJ, Not A Skirt Chaser, and Bitchin’ Camaro joined us. Cream of Tartar was exercising proper Irish etiquette by ordering rounds for everyone, getting completely bollixed, and not tipping the bar staff. In fact, in addition to not tipping the bar staff, he left the bar without closing or paying his tab; which left Oreggano in a bit of a pickle.
While we were discussing this pickle in the loo, the door to the loo opened, Dr. BJ stopped dead in his tracks, and never looked so surprised, “Oh no, this is the women’s!” Right in the middle of our pickle, in walked another.
The answer to Oreggano’s pickle was simple: soften Cream of Tartar’s cough by leaving the tab unpaid. Once she came to this conclusion, she looked It’s The Eyes and I in our hook’d up eyes and said, “Let’s go ladies. Quick!” Thus, we took care of his unfinished business in the same manner as he, by leaving it.
While making our way home, It’s The Eyes had concerns about our safety. “We are totally going to get hijacked.” “I don’t think one can get hijacked when they’re walking,” I replied. “Right,” Oreggano added. “What are they going to do? Cut off our feet?” A few blocks later, after refueling with food, we weren’t hijacked, but we were propositioned at a stoplight by the passenger in a vehicle full of rat-arsed lads, “Hey, my pants are already down. Do you want to help finish the job?” “What is up with all of this unfinished business?” I asked them. “It’s the eyes,” It’s The Eyes advised.