So, as you all remember because you read my blog religiously, I mentioned that I was going to Irish Fest in Long Beach, LI Saturday. I did. I also mentioned that I was probably going to be wasted and may or may not get into some fights. I did not. Here's what happened . . .

The train ride to Long Beach was painful. Thankfully, I had a hilarious book to distract me from the recent college grads sitting near us drinking from a paper bag (classy!) and getting increasily louder by the gulp. They were discussing things like how hungover they are from the night before when they puked all over their boyfriend's car. And they were saying things like, "When I was in college I wanted to either do PR in LA or work in an orphanage in Africa." I guessed that they lived in Murray Hill. Or the Upper East Side. But probably Murray Hill. You get the point. They were stupid. And drunk. A bad combination.

Next was the cab ride over to our friends' house. My boyfriend and I were crammed in a taxi van with me riding shotgun and him in the back. After we were all in, I pulled down the passenger-side mirror to make sure there wasn't anything embarrasing going on like some hairs out of place or lipstick on my teeth, when the cabdriver snapped, "Hey! Did I say you could use that!?" I stared, my mouth apage, and as I was deciding whether to spit in his face or apologize, he burst out laughing and then the rest of the passengers, clearly afraid by this mentaly unstable man, began laughing too. He was a comedian. Lucky us. He then proceeded to challenge every other cab driver he was stopped next to at a stop light, to a drag race in an effort, no doubt, to impress us. I was not impressed. And I don't think the old woman in the back remarking that she hoped our driver would be able to get us to our destination safely, was either.

Anyway, we got to our friends' house in one piece and were informed the party was across the street, so we chilled in some of their neighbors' apartments where I had a fascinating conversation with a guy who recently threw one of his tenants down a few flights of stairs resulting in over 100 stitches, and told me about the time he stabbed a man seven times in the back. I know, it doesn't sound charming, but I actually enjoyed talking to this man. I think it was his constant smile and his pretty baby blues.

I only had one beer when we all decided to check out the festival. All right!! Who doesn't love being drunk and eating greasy food while shopping for things like tee-shirts and silk flowers and homemade magnets that you definitely don't need but buy anyway? Especially if you're drunk! Well, imagine my disappointment when I discovered that laws were put into place prohibiting people from drinking in festivals. What the f*ck kind of stupid law is that? Probably some drunk guys (I'm assuming they were men) got too drunk one year, did some stupid sh*t and ruined it for all of us. What's worse is that all the beer was gone by the time we got back to the apartments. And on top of that, Auburn lost. And, on top of that, Taco Bell was closed by the time we got back home.