Dear Saint Patty's Day... Truce?

Dear Saint Patrick,
Every year in your honor since I learned to drink I have spent a day in March completely forsaking all that is good in this world in order to wear unflattering bright green t-shirts with slogans like "Drink Til You're Irish" on the back, chug car bombs when normally I cannot chug a regular beer, and wander the streets in aimless chaos at 10am posing for never-ending pictures with friends and any random stranger who looks particularly Irish, or just happens to be in my line of vision for longer than 3 seconds. The amount of bystanders in my pictures quadruples on a Parade Day. (Obviously probably posting ALL OF THESE in black and white with green shirts colored in later.)

So, while my fellow bloggers Craw and Dub J have continued the tradition of obliteration like champs this year, I finally had to stop and say enough is enough. In Parade and Saint Patty's Days past have lost my license, my green parade horn, friends, relationships, and overall quality of life. Meanwhile all of this is worsened by the fact that an entire city, be it Boston or Scranton, has gone completely to some green hell leaving me with no viable escape options. So this year I am waving the white flag and giving up. I promise to have one casual Irish drink and behave like a lady, if you promise not to ruin my life? I don't know why I'm behind a bunch of random cardboard boxes, or why that towel looks like it's actually underwear or a washcloth, but it is what it is. I'm too defeated to care.

You win, Saint Patrick. You win.

P.S. Don't be too proud of this. You were Italian anyway.