Happy (late) St. Patrick's Day!
Yesterday, I had quite the day, so I thought I would just tell you all about it...but we'll just fast forward to after work, shall we? T and I were walking to our cars as usual, and we had just passed the last overhang when I felt a drop on my head. Instantly, I knew what had happened. I turned to T, "I just got shit on, didn't I?!" She looked at my head, and started cracking up, "Yes!" I proceeded to exclaim, "Get it off! Get it off!" like a bird myself, flapping my arms all panick-stricken like a 5-year old who just, well, got shit on. She went into the closest store and got a paper towel from the clerk who then said to T, "Tell her shit happens." (HA! REAL original lady! Do you have shit in your hair? I don't think so! Keep selling really expensive outdoor clothing so rich preppies can look like they just stepped off a rock face on their way to their Mercedes SUV, sipping their lattes!) She was able to get the majority of the nasty poo (no, it wasn't green for St. Patty's Day) out of my hair and I avoided touching that area of my head for the rest of the commute home.
But then I got to thinking that old folklore says getting pooped on by a bird is good luck. Then I realized it was St. Patrick's Day, and that means it was double the luck! So from now on, you can be sure to only expect uplifting, positive posts from yours truly.*
I would like to say that starting right away I did things like win the lottery or lose the pounds I've gained being depressed the last 3 months, but no, I didn't...but at least I now have the faith they might happen, even if shit was what it took to get there. I did, however, have a wonderful night with some incredible women, and I ran into two of the most wonderful people I have met in this city in the bar later that night, who I hadn't seen in months. THEN was awoken at 5 a.m. by a phone call from an anonymous number that later turned out to be a very sexy man (on the west coast - hence, the 5 a.m. call) who I had dated for few months last year just calling to, "Wish me a happy st. patty's, and that he was thinking about me."
So overall, I would say my luck has turned around. Or, I can just say my night was pretty damn good for this sort-of-Irish-woman. But I'll keep you posted. Because the past has shown this doesn't usually last.
*This does not, however, make me exempt from the usual bitchy-complaining-hate-the-world posts that you have come to know quite well. I mean, afterall, I did GET SHIT ON.