high level humor at the southside irish parade

i've been way busy lately, so i'm still trying to catch up with stuff that happened over the past month.

my cousin came to visit for the southside parade last month. we met up with some friends and had a pretty good time, in spite of the droves of drunken teenagers with shamefully horrible brogues and "fuck me, i'm irish!" t-shirts.

the weather was surprisingly warm and sunny for chicago in mid-march (i wasn't even wearing a coat), which was pretty nice... except that i was fairly sunburned from my trip to california, and the unusually clement weather exacerbated the situation.

we were waiting at a bathroom line when my cousin waved and said he had to tell me something. i asked what he wanted, and he kept telling me to come closer.

given our long, long history of inflicting physical/psychological discomfort on each other for entertainment, this should have been my first clue that something was wrong. unfortunately, it had been a long night/day and i went over anyway.

"what the hell is it?" i asked.

"i just wanted to tell you that now you're standing in puke," he said.

delightful.