Woman's Perspective: St. Patrick's Day
For women, St. Patrick's Day has turned into the new Halloween. The one night (now the second) a year when young ladies can dress like an aggregate prostitute and no different young ladies can say anything in regards to it. Much obliged to you, Mean Girls.
St. Patty's Day has turned into a day where we spruce up like Slutty Irish Fairies; tutus, knee socks, tiaras, what not.
St. Patrick's Day is the place ladies enjoy their internal identity and wear stickers on their cheeks and sparkle on their eyes.
St. Patrick's Day is the point at which it turns out to be socially satisfactory to wear green nail clean and not be blamed for having a contagious contamination.
St. Patrick's Day is when ladies where shirts with some shabby, yet silly, state on their shirts that makes them seem like their attempting to offer themselves. Oh no.
St. Patrick's Day is when women totally blow their 'Spring Break' workouts and eating regimens to chug down green lager and Irish Car Bombs. The day after St. Patrick's Day is the point at which we bitch about how much weight we picked up on account of that brew, unless we tossed enough of it up.
St. Patrick's Day in Chicago is when ladies really get amped up for nature; seeing the waterway colored green, giving the thumbs up to begin drinking throughout the day.
St. Patrick's Day is when ladies take after the directions on the stick "Kiss Me, I'm Irish"...well just if he's hot. After a couple of shots of bourbon, ladies take after the guidelines on everybody, regardless of the possibility that they aren't wearing the stick.
St. Patrick's Day is the place all ladies need to be with an Irishman. The following morning, their whining he beverages to much and ..."Oh. My. God. He's a ginger."
St. Patrick's Day is the place ladies enjoy their internal identity and wear stickers on their cheeks and sparkle on their eyes.
St. Patrick's Day is the point at which it turns out to be socially satisfactory to wear green nail clean and not be blamed for having a contagious contamination.
St. Patrick's Day is when ladies where shirts with some shabby, yet silly, state on their shirts that makes them seem like their attempting to offer themselves. Oh no.
St. Patrick's Day is when women totally blow their 'Spring Break' workouts and eating regimens to chug down green lager and Irish Car Bombs. The day after St. Patrick's Day is the point at which we bitch about how much weight we picked up on account of that brew, unless we tossed enough of it up.
St. Patrick's Day in Chicago is when ladies really get amped up for nature; seeing the waterway colored green, giving the thumbs up to begin drinking throughout the day.
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| women's Patricks day party |
St. Patrick's Day is when ladies take after the directions on the stick "Kiss Me, I'm Irish"...well just if he's hot. After a couple of shots of bourbon, ladies take after the guidelines on everybody, regardless of the possibility that they aren't wearing the stick.
St. Patrick's Day is the place all ladies need to be with an Irishman. The following morning, their whining he beverages to much and ..."Oh. My. God. He's a ginger."
