Editor’s Note: I hate to post a rerun, particularly since it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve written anything for you, but it’s St. Patrick’s Day. And as a guy who’s 25 percent Irish by birth, St. Patrick’s Day has a special place in my heart: it’s the day that some anonymous fuckweed stole my writing and turned it into one of those awful, anonymous funny e-mail chains that insipid people will circulate to their insipid friends on their insipid mailing lists once a year, every year, until long after I’m dead.
Which means that my writing will be immortal, which will comfort me when I’m breathing through a tube and shitting into a bag on my deathbed, lo these long thirty or forty months from now (I’m half a bottle of 12-year-old Jamesons and two packs of Marlboros down today, so when it comes to life expectancy, I’m feeling optimistic).
I don’t feel like writing the whole sordid tale of how my writing joined the e-mail forwarding ranks of Hillary Clinton’s potty mouth (Fuck, at least my potty mouth’s genuine), because I already went into it on Acid Logic a couple years ago. Suffice it to say that, if you’ve enjoyed the reprint below in your inbox or on a message board or on a forum, thanks, but you owe me ten bucks. If you’ve gotten it in your email this week, please feel free to forward it… so long as it’s to Lars Ulrich or any member of the RIAA. Not only will the irony of suing them for copyright infringement keep me warm at night, but it’ll mean I have enough fuck-you money to stop working 70-hour weeks so I can write more for you guys.
—————————————————–
The St. Patrick’s Day Training Manual
By Rob Reuter, originally published 3/1/2000
St. Patrick’s Day: the one day of the year when the 2% of the world’s population that’s Irish gets the other 98% completely shitfaced.
However, while we appreciate that those who aren’t Irish wish to join in celebrating the day St. Patrick (real name: Patrick McPuke) drove the serpents out of Ireland using only the power of God, a quart of Jameson and weapons-grade irradiated cobalt, the way most people observe St. Patrick’s Day is offensive and disrespectful. There’s nothing more pathetic than some fat Polack swilling seven Buds mixed with carcinogenic green dye drunkenly arguing that “INXS is authentic Irish music” just before barfing into a plate of corned beef and cabbage.
Let’s face it: most people are in no condition to handle the all-day drunk of St. Patrick’s Day. However, if you follow this simple blueprint, you can enjoy St. Patrick’s Day with no fear that anyone will think you’re not from the Auld Sod, even if your name is Amhed Al Jihad.
Leg 1: 7 a.m. to 9 a.m.
Rise and shine early. Take a long, hot shower, and liberally use aftershave, perfume, cologne, deodorant and powders afterwards, because by 3 p.m., you will be excreting raw alcohol and other poisons, and without proper preparations, you will smell like a three-day dead cat wrapped in a fraternity carpet.
The bars open at 9, so use this time to prepare. Collect the following supplies and put them in a place where you will easily be able to find it in an impaired condition. We recommend the bathroom floor, between the toilet and the baseboard heater, since that’s where you’ll probably end up.
- 1 quart spring water
- 1 bottle aspirin
- 5 pairs Depends undergarment
- 1 bottle Percocets
- 1 gram morphine sulphate
- 1 oz. human adrenaline extract
- 1 precharged electric defibrillator
- 4 Cardiac needles
- 1 trauma surgeon
Brew a strong pot of coffee. Add 9 ozs. Jameson Irish whiskey, drink. Note that coffee should be drunk liberally throughout the day. There is a reason that the Irish invented “Irish Coffee”; unless you ingest a large volume of artificial stimulants throughout the course of St. Patrick”s Day, you are going to die.
Arrange to be picked up to be taken to the bar by 8:45 a.m. We cannot stress enough that you should not drink and drive. There is no reason to chance losing your license or killing someone in a drunken state when you have plenty of idiot friends willing to take that risk on your behalf.
Leg 2: 9 a.m. to 11 a.m.
Arrive at the bar right when it opens. Make sure this is an Irish bar if at all possible. An Irish bar in Boston is the best alternative, since “Boston” in Gaelic means “West Kilarney.” However, almost every city in America has bars called “The Blarney Stone”, “McSomethings”, or “The Dirty Mick.” Just try to ignore the fact that the bar is probably owned by Koreans.
Secure a barstool and do not leave it under any circumstances. The bar is liable to be packed by noon, and real Irish people do not wait in line for drinks, no matter what the consequences. While we do recommend the use of an adult undergarment to mask unpleasant smells, it really doesn’t matter. By afternoon, you’ll be sopping wet with spilled beer anyway, and your mild urine smell will be completely overpowered by the toxic stench of vomit.
We recommend starting out with a few more Irish Coffees to spike the stimulant level, however, you should not order an “Irish Coffee,” as you will be given a fruity little glass mug topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and some guy named Seamus will call you a yuppie poseur while putting a cigarette out on your neck. Ask for coffee with Jameson or Bushmill and ask the bartender to leave the whipped cream can, as nothing will add spice to your day like the occasional whippet.
Leg 3: 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.
It’s lunchtime! You may not be hungry, but it’s important to eat something, because like the man said in Blazing Saddles: “Man drink like that, without eating, he is going to die.”
If you want to maintain your buzz and not get that hideous, bloated feeling that could slow down your drinking, there are only two options: popcorn or Pop Tarts. Both have the carbohydrates you’ll need to give you energy, both will soak up excess bile in your stomach, and both have names that are hard to slur. If you start slurring your words too early, you’ll hear the most frightening phrase in the English language besides “I’m pregnant”: “You’re shut off.”
By now, you should switch off of coffee drinks to beer. You have only one option here: Guinness stout. You may be tempted to order green beer, but remember: beer doesn’t always turn green because of food coloring.
Leg 3: 2 p.m. to 7 p.m.
By now, the bar is definitely crowded as people take long lunches and bail out of work early to tie one on. If you’re doing your job correctly, the bar should look twice or three times as crowded as it really is.
By now, you may be in conversation with some real Irish people, since the person you came with has likely been taken away by ambulance. Some conversational points to remember when talking to the Irish are:
- “Football” really means “Soccer,” and you should be more passionate about it than your wife or husband.
- The English are all piss-arsed, pig-fucking bastards who should be lined up and kicked into the liffey.
If you remember those two points, as well at least three derogatory names for Margaret Thatcher, you can talk to the Irish for hours.
You should continue to drink Guinness throughout this leg, although you may want to have another Irish Coffee if your heartbeat has become irregular.
The Home Stretch: 7 p.m. to Closing
Your goal, of course, is to be the last person to leave the bar at closing time. This will be impossible, since a blood alcohol content of .50 equals death, and you should be pushing a .35 or .40 by now.
The only way for a true Irishman to leave a bar before closing time with honor is to be hauled away by the police. Throw a punch. It doesn’t matter who you hit or why; no one’s made any sense since 3 o’clock, anyway. You will be beaten mercilessly, since your fine motor control has been gone since the late morning, but it doesn’t matter since you can’t feel anything.
Depending on your community, the police should arrive within fifteen minutes to scrape you off the floor and clap you in irons. The final impression you leave is the most important: as you are being dragged from the bar, begin screaming that you want to take your drink with you. You will be a legend, and by now the friend who took you to the bar should have had his or her stomach pumped, and will be able to bail you out.
By following these simple guidelines, your St. Patrick’s Day experience would be one you would never forget if it weren’t physically and biologically impossible for you to remember any of it. Tune in next month for our next self- help guide: The Pros and Cons of Waking Up Naked In a Dumpster.
[tags]St. Patrick’s Day, Training Manual, copyright infringement, Christ I’m drunk[/tags]
Pingback: The American Jerk Week in Filthy One-Liners – 2009-03-21 « The American Jerk