Pay no attention to the zit on his leg, but you may not want to look directly into the eye of Betty, the hot chick displayed in this tattoo. Ten extra credit points for knowing where this is from (prior to further reading).

Why would I begin a photo essay with a tattoo on a hairy leg, you ask? Because, it begins the freakish tale I will tell that concluded with a St. Patrick’s Day Parade that took place 8 days late due to tornadoes and winter storms in the Springtime. The Midwest is fun, no?

Ken and I attended a going away party for Dave and Mary and didn’t know anyone there besides….well, Dave and Mary. However, this tattoo made for a great ice breaker. As I was discussing the state of education with a lovely gal named Penny, Ken beckoned me to the kitchen with his jaw open and his eyes wide to say, “Hey, Kelly! Come look at this!”

Sometimes, that’s followed by someone mooning me, but this was a pleasant surprise. This guy (whose name escapes me because I was so fascinated by ogling his bare leg) was such a fan of The X-Files that he had this forever imprinted on his leg.

That was pretty much the highlight of this party, except for the fact that Mary offered to sell me her treadmill and Ken got my hopes up to buy it and then waited until the next day to say we didn’t have any room for it. He insists we keep Mallory’s room for her even though she lives in it for barely 2 months out of the year. (Dear God, please don’t let her read that.)

Then we went to the St. Patrick’s Day Parade that was so cold IT MADE ME DROP AT LEAST 12 F-BOMBS IN COMPLAINTS. I did get a kick out of this gal who really decked out her golf cart and zoomed through the parade, not stopping to throw beads or candy or anything. Granny had someplace to go.
Oh, yeah. This was my adorable hair (not done by me) prior to the parade. I like the hair. I hate the forehead. Officially, this is the First Good Hair Day of 2006. Kind of pathetic it took until March to happen.
Luckily, we ran into an old friend of Ken’s (Seriously. We ran. It was cold.) and had a blast chatting with him and catching up with the theme of Where Has The Time Gone. Joe was three sheets to the wind by the time we saw him.

He got that way from the Pub On Wheels that was the most popular float in all the parade. Can you see it behind him?
Here. This is a better picture of it. My hands were nearly frozen and I dropped another F-bomb here:
I should at least mention why we go to this parade. Mason plays trumpet for his school band. First chair, too. Think he cares? Not a bit. Doesn’t even practice. He’s so good it’s annoying.
For some reason, after a few Guiness, these guys were HILARIOUS. (”Is the plural of Guiness ‘Guinessessssess?” note: not the best question to ask when drunk early on a Saturday morning.)
By the end, I was beaded up, all cussed out, and my hair was straight. STRAIGHT. And still with the forehead. Geez. But the highlights, they look good, no?