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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


ohh, ahhh, up the rahhhh

It's hard to fully describe in a blog post the first saturday in March, a day where my town has a parade (2nd biggest in NYC, thank you very much) and gets really, really drunk. Rockaway St. Paddy's Day is amazing. We just have drunk people bundled up in irish sweaters and green rugby shirts and cans of beer obviously poking out of beer coozies.

This was the first year ina very long time I didn't celebrate in The Clubhouse. THe Fisheads, who just sold their clubhouse property, moved the party to the yacht club, which was fun and crazy, but not the same. I never thought I would, but I miss the mud getting on all of my clothes; I miss walking up and down rockaway beach blvd. looking for a bathroom, and finally peeing in David's Deli. I miss having pickles really, really close. After the perenial bagels and beer at my house, and the parade from my corner, we went to the Walshes, who hosted their annual party. The Manhattan Pipers came and played a tune, and Mr. Boden made his amazing sheppard's pie again, and I got to party with adults (which is my favorite thing to do, obviously, because the the beer's always better.) After that, we walked to the Yacht Club, which was already packed with everyone and their mom. Literally. THere was a band in the inside of the club, meant to keep the old people in. Shilelaigh Law played under the big tent in the back, and it was awesome. A DJ played in-between the sets, and before Indaculture, which was good (I think. I don't really remember at that point.) I did so much dancing (by dancing, I mean the jump and pump dance) I was sore the next day. I went and got pizza, and had my mom pick me up. I woke up the next day and thought...that's it? It's over already?

"Spring Break"

I slept a lot. Thankfully.

WSJU's Still Not A Player Event

was amazing.

Real St. Paddy's Day.

Too. Many. People.

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I wonder if my writing has even improved?