4. Hangover food is built in. I get wasted a lot, and it’s sometimes a task to find just the right greasy, salty mess that’s gonna soak up the poison in my gut. But all these pubs have got their corned beef and potato specials going, and when I’m already hurtin’ at 5PM after starting with Guinness in my Cheerios, you best believe that Irish food is just what mama needs to get her second wind.
3. You can punch someone and not get into trouble. St. Patty’s Day has got an automatic pass for physical violence: everyone starts punching each other at some point, and with so many bar fights, who can keep track? Keep that in mind when you’re suppressing your rage at that coworker and save it for March 17. You’ll both get blackout drunk and the bitch fight will ensue, but no one’s gonna call the cops, ‘cause they’re too busy with DUIs. With a little luck, you’ll wake up near your apartment instead of in jail, and she’ll have a black eye, but will have no idea how it happened.
2. Acceptable Sluttiness. Let’s face it, no one likes those awkward moments when you’re trying to get your bone on, but you gotta be all like, polite and such. St. Patrick’s Day throws all that out the window. Like beads on Mardi Gras or mistletoe on Christmas, the “Kiss Me I’m Irish” t-shirt is a hook-up GOLDMINE. Remember, everyone’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day … and EVERYONE is getting ass.
1. It’s the one day a year it’s socially acceptable to behave like I do everyday. I like being unique and all, but when you take the train and you see a red-faced dude sipping what’s gotta be an Irish coffee at 9AM, and the toilets are packed with people already desperate to take a piss, and random housewives on the street are booting in the recycling bin in front of Whole Foods … well, it’s just beautiful.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go spike the company coffee. Suck my Shamrock, Lucille.
