Weekend Winks – Luck of the Irish My Ass

My St. Patty’s Day weekend proved I’ve become a leprechaun in reverse with no overflowing gold in my pot.

No gold? No problem. Let’s party!

Ever have multiple seconds turn into minutes that roll into hours and then days that make you wanna pull your hair out strand by strand?

Friday morning started with this lovely event…

All aired out in less than two minutes flat.

A second punctured tire in the last three months requiring me to purchase yet another brand new fucking piece of rubber. Thank you streets of Nashville.

Luck of the Irish my ass.

While I was quite the damsel in distress (let’s remember my nails are “jewels not tools” so no I don’t know, nor care to know how to change a flat tire), I luckily work in a warehouse full of knights in shining armor.

My hero to the rescue!

Adding to my mounting car frustration was the fact that I just spent $1000 on brakes last weekend. So between dropping a cool thou enabling my car to halt and throwing another $250 into the wind for a new tire I thought about to pushing my car into oncoming traffic.

Then I remembered I’m not done paying for it.

And I need transportation to and from work in order to pay for my piece of shit vehicle.

Knowing I just drained my entire year’s worth of spending money in two weeks on a hunk of metal about sent me over the edge…all before noon on a Friday. But the fellas at the warehouse know how to take care of an edgy gal – with endless compliments (your day sucks but you look really nice!) and a cigarette (if I’m smoking, it’s bad as I smoke one cigarette every 1,789 days).

Thankful for nicotine, my resident tire expert and the coat he let me borrow.

In order to get my heart rate, blood pressure and sanity back in order, I drove across town to visit Ted, the little fur ball love of my life.

Just what the doctor ordered.

Why is my beloved on vacation from yours truly?  Because New Cat, the stray we opened our home to in January is sick (and pretty pathetic looking in his cone).

Wallowing in the window pane.

Saturday fun was all about New Cat visiting the vet where we found out his eye is not only worse, he’s somehow developed an ear infection, which means another week away from my precious Ted and $100 less grocery money for moi. I feel like the appropriate name for New Cat is now Money Pit.

Poor, pitiful, pink-eyed pussy.

Finding out that my nephew is a mini LeBron James lifted my saggy Saturday spirits.

Palming it in Iowa.

Seriously. Check out his biceps with an easy slam dunk.

What made me want to do happy cartwheels around my mini manse? Seeing a photo of my niece, a budding shoe hoarder….

Yep. My niece for sure.

The final act in turning my frown upside down included the main squeeze in my liquor loving life. Captain Morgan.

Doing an Irish jig for my Skinny Pirates.

Who needs rainbows and leprechauns when you have rum?

Turning my pissy pants into party pants was complete with my concoction of green holiday treats.

Filling my pot with Jell-O shots, naturally.

With a little hitch in my kick, I’m happy to say this Nashville gal has the leprechaun spirit in overabundance today.

Luck ‘o the Irish breakfast…and lunch…and dinner.

Here’s hoping some Irish luck finds you, making this a very happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Cheers!