(Bad) Luck Of The Irish: Greenfield, CA

(Bad) Luck Of The Irish

You got bad, bad luck.

I have no words for this. This is completely disgusting. I can deal with a lot of harsh truths – believe me, I can – but THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE.

This was worse than the day that I realized that pro wrestling was fake and that Bret “Hitman” Hart and the British Bulldog weren’t really bitter enemies attempting to severely injure each other, and that they were actually brothers-in-law in real life.

This was worse than the day that my 11th grade Chemistry teacher (hi, Mrs. Bedell!) told me – in the middle of a class lecture, no less – that I was never going to be a professional baseball player, no matter how many times I took steroids hard I tried.

This goes beyond Santa Claus having the exact same handwriting as my mother, and this trumps the Easter Bunny knowing that I like sour candy and not milk chocolate.

I’m sorry to report that there is, indeed, NO pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

I have unfortunate photographic evidence of this. I didn’t Photoshop this picture (well, yes I did, but only to bring out the contrast a little bit so you can actually see the rainbow), this is most certainly the end of the rainbow. Not only does the rainbow NOT end in a pot of gold, it ends in some nondescript fallow farmland in the rural Salinas Valley.

This was the day that the world stood still for me. This was the day that everything fell apart. This news absolutely devastated me, and put a dark cloud over my entire trip from Santa Cruz back to L.A. last December. I’ve only recently recovered enough from this terrible realization to write about it now.

All of the Lucky Charms cereal I’ve eaten in my lifetime (all 3 boxes)? Magically delicious, but a complete waste of time.

Every time I’ve cheered for Notre Dame football (one time a year when they play USC)? Never again.

All of the four-leaf clovers I’ve collected in my lifetime (never found a single one)? Worthless.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go listen to some Social Distortion, oil up my baseball mitt, and put on a pair of Hitman shades.

Posted on March 1, 2013, in Day & Age and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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