St. Patrick's Day was spent at Clancy's here in Omaha. After my brother and I moved a significant amount of stuff in the morning -- we both drive pickups and we filled them to the brim -- it was decided we needed a drink for our efforts. That and a girl he teaches with was complaining that she was at the bar and no one else showed up...
So one green beer led to two, and two led to three, and pretty soon I had to take off my left shoe to use my toes to continue counting. Not because I'm an amputee that has only two fingers, but because after 10 beers, I needed that toe to keep the count going upward from 11.
At some point, I got a bizarre four-leaf clover drawing on my arm from this girl. Some good luck that was. Iowa lost, Creighton lost, I did not get her number. The Golden Sombrero. With a luck charm like that, its a wonder I didn't crash The Colorado or wake up with a horse or something. I mean, jeez.
Plus the damn thing won't come off. I scrubbed for must have been, like 10 seconds this morning in the shower. No dice.
This is irony. One time a girl wrote her number on my hand, and it got washed off before I could transfer it to a more permanent medium. This time, I get a stupid Irish luck charm drawn on my arm by a girl, and its such bad luck but I can't get it off. When you want it to stay, it goes. When you want it to go, it stays. I hate you, Bic.
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