I Married a Mick

Tonight was Irish Heritage night at the Giants. I went with Chief. We wore native costumes. It was fun.


My beanie was the gift with purchase. True to my Irish heritage, I got too drunk to remember the game. No, not really. That was a cheap racist joke at the expense of a silenced and oppressed people. Sorry. Thank God they're all too drunk to read this. Especially because a drunk Irishman has a wicked temper!

Woohoo! I must still be a little high from all the whiskey fumes around me in the bleachers. Those half naked dudes with the Irish flags painted on their chests and heads were just sweating out the hard stuff!

Comestibles we ingested:

• garlic fries
• cheese steak
• turkey burger
• bud lites
• margaritas
• irish coffees

Resisted:

• Churros
• Ice cream on a stick
• Hot dogs
  
• More margaritas
• The inexplicable draw of orange tank tops with "SF Giants" emblazoned across the tits

Also, the pussy pitcher from Washington walked Barry all night. We were there to see history, not to watch you chicken out. Thanks for trying to ruin everyone's night. Pussy. You're just lucky we still have the best park.