I love Irish Car Bombs...
... and bombed Irishmen. It's pretty clear to me now what you get when you mix a realistic looking red wig, a fake name, and an actual redhead named Patrick at your side… you get really trashed. This weekend was Chicago’s big St Patrick’s Day celebration. We decided to take in the Saturday festivities downtown and although I thought it would be very low-key (relative to Sunday’s Southside party), we still managed to find our way into every rowdy Irish crowd/bar/trunk ina three mile radius. Since we were oozing an authentic old-country look and not just a couple kids getting wasted before noon, the old timers ate this shit up and we were catered to… I was pretty well out of control by about 4:30 or so and passed out by 7 PM… which, luckily (pun intended), gave me ample time to recover for the next day, or what I like to call “Round II”.
posted by Nicole @ 12:48 PM
2 Comments:
At 3/13/2006 6:13 PM,
The Big Cheese said…
The same thing happened to me. Only it was at a Chinese buffet. And it was eggrolls instead of booze. I hate myself.
At 3/14/2006 8:38 AM,
Alex said…
Isn't St. Patrick's Day this weekend? I'm Irish and i'm pretty sure it is. I've actually only ever been out on St. Patrick's Day once and that was in 2004. Seriously - the reason I don't like going out is that I end up in bar with a bunch of guys wearing trucker hats unironically and the tables are full of half empty glasses of Guinness. They don't even finish them! Assholes. Then their girlfriends start doing any shooters that are remotely green and the jig dancing starts, and well - after that I just get angry. I want to drink Guinness and be left alone - is that so much to ask? At least i'm not bitter.
Fucking trucker hats.
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