Monday, March 19, 2007

Call it Whatcha Wanna Call it

Hey babies,

Maybe this is kind of self-indulgent, but I hope it's cool if I just talk about my weekend. I always wonder: Why is it that, after so many years of imbibing alcohol regularly, it doesn't get old talking about all the crazy crap that happens when everyone is 'faced? Like, remember in high school how it was considered bad-ass to party till you puke? Thankfully that is no longer considered a badge of coolness (unless you are this guy ), but it's still, like, a slightly more classy version of that.

Which brings us to St. Patrick's day--one of the best days of the year, and one of the only days where is it socially O.K. to start drinking the second you wake up, or even to wake up earlier than usual in order to start drinking. It is always a good time in this town, and particularly so this year because it fell on a Saturday. So basically by noon the streets were flowing with vomit. Literally, I stepped in vomit before noon. Me and LL Cool JCL enjoyed quite the day of debauchery--brunch boozing, park boozing, Trax boozing with June and Soccerball Head. Eventually we stumbled upon a t-shirt printing store and walked out with green shirts reading "Suck My Face" (mine) and "Kiss Me I'm a Tranny" (LL Cool JCL's). And so everyone all night to him was like, dude are you really a tranny? they did a really great job. Like, HUH? Some people have no sense of humor.

My shirt was not a joke, however. Anyway, we went into the downtown fray and ended up at a bar--we were instructed to drop the name "Seamus O'Shanahan" for free entry. Apparently we didn't start drinking early enough, cause the second our posse walked in we all felt soo...sober. Because the entire bar was filled with generic drunk people wearing tons of green plastic crap who were SO MUCH MORE drunk than us, and SCREAMING Journey hits so hard they were red and sweaty in the face. Which is enough to somehow erase the effects of 11 hours of boozing in our case. Nonetheless, a good time was had by most (not the puking people, eg, or the arrested people), especially because there was this Irish dude who bought copious shots and drinks for everyone who so much as looked at him. Ausome.

Thanks, Irish people, for being so prolific reproductively. Did y'all know that like 70% of Americans have Irish blood? I can't really substantiate that, but it's something like, really high. For such a small Isle they've really made quite a splash.


To the global community,



Erica said...

I'm gonna get a shirt that says 'my face' and wear it when you wear your shirt. I'm also gonna snippy Lintzy so he doesn't have to live a lie anymore.

Traxxx 4 Eva.

Adam F-Bomb said...

"Seamus O'Shanahan"--is that a real name?

Funny, I ALSO ended up in a bar where drunk folk with green plastic crap sang along to the hits of Journey/Guns 'n Roses/Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. A proud tradition.

TraxxxLove Represent.

Chris said...

YOU SNIP, YOU DIE ERICA. I actually imagine some aweful twist on the standard "cut-your-sisters-hair-while-shes-asleep" trick. HEY F-BOMB WHAT UP! Let me tell y'all that the Irish man Tempist speaks of was amazing, embraced us all (literally and figuratively) and reassured me 12391 times that he "knew when not to go after a man's lady" -- obvi in reference to Tempist herself, who was at this point sucking face with someone else but apparently he didn't think too much of that. GO SHAMROCKS