love love love, phoebe marie

The rest of Phoebe’s other St. Patrick’s Dia de los Dunnys that we had for sale in our ToyCyte Store have SOLD OUT! Congrats to those who got ‘em. Thanks to Phoebe for a spirited custoMONDAY!

Hang tight through the weekend til Monday when another custoMONDAY is coming your way.

xx

It was one of the great days that I looked forward to all year, St. Patrick’s day March 17th. However, like many others around the world my St. Paddy’s day began 4 hours earlier than the actual day. It was Sunday night and I sat at a round table with 7 of my closest friends in my parent’s garage, who had by now reached the casino they had been planning to visit all week. Sitting in front of us were 7 lucky bottles of Remy Martin VSOP and yes you guessed it 2 dozen Irish Car Bombs. Knowing that all of the alcohol could not be consumed I took it upon myself to invite a few more friends over to pre-game with us. So being the friendly guy I am I invited 5 more people, which turned into 11, which turned into 18, and so on. Before I knew it I had quite the amount of guest in my small home just a couple of blocks down from the Fire Department. So the drinking began and everyone was enjoying themselves, 1 hour passed, then 2 hours, the 3 hours, and it was already 11:00PM, just one more hour before the actual celebration of a beloved Saint could begin. Four Irish car bombs, 12 shots of Remy, and 4 shots of Heem found their way into my throat and worked their way into my dying liver. I decided that rather than just treating myself to some lovely alcohol, why not some fresh air! So I sat outside on the curb in front of the closed garage (don’t ask me how I got there, I can’t exactly remember) and laid on the grass that accompanied the concrete and helped myself to a little nap.

2 Hours later…

I wake up to the sound of angry voices in the distant backround and my cell phone ringing with the name “MotherBear” flashing on the cell phone’s screen. I ignore the call but I couldn’t ignore the voices, and I look to my left and down the street 3 of my guest had found they’re way into a neighbors bush and decided to take a piss, they found it amusing however the cops did not. All I heard was “What party did you boys come from?” and in scared, timid little voices I heard “Our friend Lo’s, he lives in that house over there” All I could think to myself was “some friends you guys are” so I ran inside told everyone to Shut the F*ck up and turned off the music and lights. Everyone was quite and still until we heard the knocking on the front door and the sound of my 3 “friends” talking outside. Coming to my senses knowing that I could potentially be in deep sh*t, I instantly woke my little cousin Monique up who had been sleeping in my parent’s bedroom and told her exactly how to act and what to say. So my 11 year old savior walked to the front door made of wood and the inner part made of some type of glass and she slowly opened it with a disturbed face as though she had been awaken from a 1000 year slumber. The police department asked her “Are you home by yourself young girl? We got complaints of a party at this address” and Monique answered “Officer why did you wake me up? I thought my uncle and auntie were home” (in the cutest little voice) and the Police apologized and went away. The drinking continued for another hour or so but the music no longer played, until it was 2:00AM and everyone decided to leave and head for their homes….I walked into my parents bedroom and thanked my cousin for bailing me out of the problem (not the first time she had done such a thing) and promising her a great day of shopping in San Francisco the next weekend. Monique responded with “that’ll be $50 and icecream thank you very much, now let me get some sleep please” so being drunk at the time I took it as a joke and as soon as I got the door leading to the hallway I stood in my tracks, and the outline of 2 bodies stood in the dark hallway and all I heard was…”No Angelo, how about you give me $500 dollars and some icecream, and clean all of this sh*t in our house…”

So after a few hours of sleep I spent the remaining hours of the Day cleaning the house and getting whatever my icecream my mother and father, and little cousin wanted to indulge in….Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, haha yeah riiighhtt.

Hope you enjoyed my story, this wasn’t the craziest but it was by far the most entertaining to me at least.

Awesome customs! Thanks for the contest.

i get to the bar, to discover the libations are already flowing, and the party’s already begun. 2 beers, 1 shot and an HOUR later, i tottle to the exchange and buy not only a green shirt, but a green feathered boa, a glittering green bowler, and a green fake hair moustache. i also reek of hootch, so all the staff at the place were giving me the harry eyeball as i had been entering and exiting the dressing rooms in various stages of dress and miss-dress: thing like green dresses from the 70’s that were reminiscent of mrs. roeper. green hooker heels, and of course the green feather boa, and the glittering green bowler hat.

by the time i’d made my purchases and waved goodbye to the poor staff who no doubt called the authorities to make certain to monitor my saunter home -mostly to be sure i wouldn’t be getting behind the wheel of any cars, as i was clearly housed…. the party back at the bar was on full-swing. at 1 in the afternoon.

the afternoon went forward with many drinks, me stealing some dude’s pants -him resorting to wearing an apron (underwear-less) when i wouldn’t return them, the obligatory passing around of the feather boa, and glittering bowler, shots, pints, and then apparently me falling off the bar while trying to do a shot on the bar.

i honestly don’t recall what all occurred, since all i woke up with was part of my soul missing, a shirt that was ripped to shreds, my underwear not ONLY backwards, but also inside out, and the words “I found the pot of gold” written on my butt cheek in green magic marker with a phone number beneath it.

Right.

So we went to the dinner and were served wonderful, albeit non-Irish fare (it was Cuban) and given several free glasses of hurricanes. After all, its better to see spirits if you have some spirits in ya.

The owners led us to the basement that used to serve as the morgue. They cheesed up the place with unnecessary props like a fake coffin and gothic candelabras. *oooooooo*

A psychic passed out divining rods and other questionable ghost hunting tools. We had a grand time watching the patrons drunkenly pacing the dark basement, accidentally poking each other with the dowsing rods and going into hysterics when their EMF (electro mag. frequency) readers lit up near the circuit breaker boxes, thinking they found a ghost!

Needless to say, no ghosts made themselves known to us. I’m pretty sure, though, they appreciated the drunken antics done in their honor.

I feel lucky as a leprechaun – I just caused a turn-around for our sad economy by buying Phoebe Marie’s St. Patty’s Day of the Dead Dunny. For the price of a meal out I gained a POT of GOLD at the END of a RAINBOW! Phoebe Marie is awesome! Even if she wasn’t my kid …

A few years back I started seeing a new guy. I was truly bananas about him. On St. Patrick’s Day we REALLY tied one on. He suggested we go back to his house but on the ride, all the beers, shots, and margaritas caught up with me. It took EVERY ounce of strength I had NOT to wet my drawers.

We get back to his place and I race into the bathroom. Sadly, I’m wearing a belt that tied and I COULDN’T GET IT UNDONE!!! I was shaking like crazy, trying to hold it in, and working on this belt when FINALLY I got the knot undone! I breathed a sigh of relief and pissed like a race horse. I had never been happier in my entire life.

Until I realized that I pulled my PANTS down but NOT my underwear.

So I had just pissed 5 hours of alcohol all over my panties at my new dude’s house…and died a little inside.

HAPPY ST. PATTY’S DAY!