St. Patrick's Day Miracle

Saturday I woke at 7 am, still drunk.

I went into the bathroom and as I was pulling down my pants noticed I had a small hole in the waistband of my underpants. After finishing up, instead of pulling up my pants I just pulled up my underwear and looked in the mirror to see how big of a hole RickRubin put in my drawers when giving me a wedgie.

Sure enough, right under the waistband, there was the dime sized hole that I could feel. What I hadn't noticed, but was now clearly visible in the mirror was that below the dime sized was a small swatch of cloth...below the cloth was my pimply white ass. The entire ass of my underpants was completely blown out.

I was so hung-over, and still drunk, and just couldn't deal with it. I pulled up my pants, threw on some boots, and went out front to shovel...blown out ass and all.

I came in about an hour later much worse for the ware. Mrs. Flick came downstairs and had no mercy. She immediately started outlining the activities for the day. The itinerary was as follows:
* Drive down to Conestoga
* Pick up 4 year old daughter
* drive daughter over to Wal_Mart
* shop for birthday presents
* Take kid to 4 year old birthday party

I started to protest then thought better. I was a dead man either way, I might as well take my lumps.

Due to the weather and my condition, it took me an hour to get to Conestoga. Up, Down, Left, Right, Swish, Swish, Swish. I had the mini-van rocking and by the time I got there I was green as a leprechaun. I tossed the girl in the car and started my way out of the river hills...Up, Down, Left, Right, Swish, Swish, Swish.

When we got to Wal-Mart I was done. There was absolutely no way I was going to make it. I was sick, I was tired, my head was ready to explode. I couldn't see any way to shop, let alone go to a party.

Now I'm not a religious person....generally speaking, I don't believe in miracles or divine intervention...but the series of events that occurred next have lead me to reconsider my position. What occurred next made me think that St. Patrick himself stepped up and directed the holy spirit to have mercy on my soul. They say that it takes 3 miracles to make a saint and as far as I'm concerned, St. Pat made his bones with me.

#1 - As we pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot I saw my daughters head slump forward and she fell asleep. I gingerly pulled into a spot so as not to disturb her. Her sleeping bag from her sleepover sat in the passengers seat next to me. I leaned over and placed my head on it and immediately went out. I think I only slept for about 15 minutes, but it was all the difference in the world. It gave me the boost I needed and I went in, bought some " My Little Pony" crap. Got some cards and gift bags and was on my way.

#2 - We got to the parking lot of the party. I put the gifts in the bag, stuffed it full of paper, and got the cards ready. The party was for twins, so I had to identify which present was for which kid. The problem was, when I left for the party my wife gave me explicit instructions which included the names of the girls who's party it was. Pretty much that was the ONLY thing I was supposed to remember. Now I was sitting outside of the party and had no idea.

I asked my daughter, " what are your friends names ?"...." they're twins daddy."..."yeah, but what are their names ?"..." um, I don't remember."...." how can you NOT remember...the girls in the class that are twins..come on"...." Daddy, you're being mean..you're going to make me cry"...." no, no, no.....don't cry...cause Daddy's going to start crying in about two seconds"

Just then the door of the party placed opened. Out walked a teenaged girl carrying a sandwich-board sign. She put the sign down, pulled out a big felt tipped marker, and wrote in giant letters that I could see from the parking lot. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAGARETTE AND ISABELLA. Bingo !

Miracle #3 - I was doing a little better but I was not out of the woods. I still was going to have to endure 1 and 1/2 hours of screaming kids and birthday folly. We went into the party and the mother of the girls walked up to me...." Thanks for bringing your daughter, see you in a while."

Huh ?! I thought I might still be drunk and getting delusional.

She must have seen the confusion on my face... "You don't need to hang out with all us women, if you'd like to go, just come back in about an hour. We're good here."

Stunned, I walked out front into the cold air figuring I'd just sleep in the van for a while. Then I looked up and saw it....I don't know how I had missed it earlier...I was standing across the street from the off track betting parlor.

Instead of doing the hokey-pokey and singing "happy birthday" out of tune.....I spent the next hour eating a big lunch, drinking a gallon of coke, and resting quietly in a dark corner. I also hit the 3 - 5 - 8 trifecta for a dollar boxed in the 4th race at Tampa and walked out of the place with more money than I walked in with.

Like I said... a Saint Patrick’s Day Miracle.