Erin Go BRAAAGHhhhhh uh hey sorry about your shoes bro
There’s an Irish bar a block from my house on my route to the subway, so for the last couple of weekends I’ve been dodging screeching verge-of-vom co-eds dressed in green every other time I leave the house.
There’s just something about St. Patrick’s Day that’s so goddamn pathetic (at least, the parts that are ferried into my life via the Erin Express). The lightweight dudes that smell like vomit before 2pm. The embarrassing Irish-themed pick-up lines. The green Cat-in-the-Hat hats. The girls wearing the totally sexy green costumes, about 20% of whom look good in them and 80% of whom looked good in them four years and 25 pounds ago but are squeezing into them anyway, because hey, it’s St. Patrick’s Day!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favor of large crowds and public drinking. I just prefer it to be caused by some sort of event. Election night? Awesome! The Phillies stuff? Awesome, except for how my friend got his car flipped (but it was all OK, he had riot insurance). St. Patrick’s Day never seems like a celebration, just a yearly excuse for all the people I disliked in high school to take over the city for a day, binge drink and wear blinky lights.
That said, I still think this silver-plated shamrock necklace by Philly-area etsy seller briguysgirls is really beautiful.
Agreed. I saw a guy puking in the sewer at 16th and Spring Garden at 3pm on Saturday afternoon.
A guy slid up next to me and said “Hey…you’re Irish.” That apparently was the best pick-up line he had that day.
Oh, and I’m not Irish.
Y’all just don’t know how to have fun
sounds like a lame time to me
I think Fishtown might have imploded last night; at least, one would draw those conclusions from the sounds emanating from O’Reilly’s pub on my block. I locked my doors and huddled with my cat in the basement.
reply: