I’m sure someone, somewhere observes St. Patrick’s Day without downing a few bevies but I’m not one of them. Personally, I found it a little depressing to be pregnant when I felt like the rest of the world was slurring, “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” so, if you’re like me (code *lush*) then you may feel a little left out this weekend without the drink so I rustled up a few photos to cheer you up.
Friends don’t let friends drive drunk but clearly they have no problem wrapping you up in saranwrap and singing next to your passed out head. I would have lost my damn mind if I woke up like this.
Aw, Pirate Princess Pickle Bunny looks so peaceful sleeping. Sleep well, Pirate Bunny. Sleep well.
I sense that the force is strong with this one.
This is beyond impressive to me. Not just that he remained passed out for this, but impressive that his drunk friends had the stick-with-it-ness to see it through. I totally would have given up and watched Family Guy while eating Hickory Sticks once we got to his neck.
This can’t feel good the next day. At least you know he won’t pee on the carpet.
There’s a Spiderman episode in here somewhere. Perhaps the Attack of the Blue Bacardi Beetle.
You know you have good friends when they carefully place protruding objects in your hair while you sleep it off.
You know you’re a mother when you worry about what would happen if he farted.
This gal gets a standing slow clap from me. Way to carpe the hell out of that diem!
The lesser known off shoot of the blue man group.
This is about 18 varieties of awesome for me that the guy is just trimming the grass around him. No concern. No sympathy. Just doing his job.
I can just hear the muffled “tee hees” as this one was coming together.
This was the shot that Facebook deemed “inappropriate” and removed from my alcohol and breastfeeding update. Well, suck it, Zuckerberg because you can’t touch me here (you know I don’t mean that Mark Master Eye of Sauron). For the record, if I had this girls body I would walk around 24/7 like this – pants around my knees pissing freely like a giddy school girl counting the quarters you could bounce off my ass. I tip my hat to you, young lady.
So don’t feel bad that you can’t light it up this weekend. Feel smug in knowing that you will be the designated drivers that have all the good stories (and blackmail) from the night before, the ones that won’t get in a fist fight with some girl that thinks “she’s all fucking that”, the ones that didn’t throw up in their purse in the cab ride home.
But most of all, my darlings, feel good in knowing that I raise a Guinness to each and every one of you for keeping ‘er dry while you’re cooking the wee bairns.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.