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Erin Go Home

Erin Go Home

Barring stupid leap years, I’m completely oblivious to my Irish heritage for 364 days a year. For one day a year, I’m completely embarrassed, ashamed, and humiliated by it. I hate St. Patrick’s Day. Even though I have Irish roots and personally profit from the day greatly, I’d love to cancel the whole f ’n thing.

 

It’s the time of year when dudes that normally drink shitty beer, get adventurous and drink shitty Irish beer for awhile, then go on a strong 20 bottle binge of Miller Lite to cap the day. It’s like a younger New Year’s Day crowd, with much more cultural embarrassment. The great writers in history couldn’t adequately describe my hatred of St. Patrick’s Day in under 600 words, so I probably can’t either. I’ll just give you an idea of what drives me the craziest.

THE LEGEND.

St. Patrick is celebrated because he banished all of the snakes out of a country scientifically proven to never have snakes. Now that those National Geographic nerds busted that myth, can everyone begin to cool out? This “religious” holiday turns Center City Philadelphia into a Jersey Shore episode. Does he even really deserve that big of a day? I’m sure he was a nice guy and all, but is he really worth getting roofied over? Maybe you should pretend you’re Irish for a day and spend the day at church or a dog track.

IRISH CAR BOMBS.

For those of you proud Irish Americans that look forward to drinking your weight in these things every year, you should know that’s there is a small group of people that find them kinda offensive – every single person on the island of Ireland. Funny thing about real-life Irish Car Bombs is that they’ve killed hundreds of Irish people. Throwing one up through your nose seems tacky at best.

GREEN BEER.

I can’t even…

“KISS ME I’M IRISH.”

No thanks whore. Any girl that’s wearing this shirt is most likely a very sweet girl from the ‘burbs out for a day of fun. Until around 2:30 in the afternoon. This is around the time the Stoli Razz Kamikazes kick in and you start seeing girls stumbling into traffic and shit. In a couple of hours, the guys they’re with will try to start fights with the cars that almost run these chicks over. Not with the drivers, the cars. Besides, who kisses anymore? Freakin’ prude whores.

CHEEK STICKERS.

Like you’re some adorable USC cheerleader or something. Sorry girls, and the predictable funny guy of the group, they’re just a little too cutesy for me. I understand that they will make for great cell phone pictures on Facebook, but there’s a decent chance you get accidentally pregnant in the next few hours, and you don’t want to conceive looking like a fool. It leads to weird kids, like redheads.

WHISKEY.

Whiskey and I have never really gotten along, but even I feel bad for the abuse it takes on SPD. I know for a fact that I’ll see somebody this year, take a shot of Jameson, almost puke for a second, and then puke in a beer. Could be a guy or girl, anywhere between the ages of 21 and 60. The teary eyed apology is always good for a laugh though. I’ve also actually seen whiskey cause people to have fake Irish accents which they swear they brought back from Ireland when they spent 2 weeks there in 1996 and it comes out when they drink.

ANYWAY, STAY IN, IT’S THE WORST.

 

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