Sorry it took me so long to post my review of our St. Patrick’s Day festivities, but I accidentally left my notes for the evening in my pants pocket and they got run through the washer and dryer, so now they’re all fluffy and hard to read. But at least they’re April Fresh and have no static cling.
When I say I took notes that night, I don’t mean that I meticulously documented all of the evening’s activities. My “notes” are more like “Plug up my hole!” or “Guinness darts” or “inflatable hat nookie”.
The “Plug up my hole!” note refers to the fact that any American can become an “Ugly American” after nine beers. We met an actual Irish couple at the first bar we went to, and they tried to teach us some traditional Gaelic greetings and drinking toasts. The only one I could remember was probably spelled something like “Phlugh ohm mahaole!”, but in my hops-induced stupor it sounded way more like “Plug up my hole!”, so that’s what I yelled everytime someone new walked into the bar. I think it means “We drink to your coffin. May it be built from the wood of a hundred year old oak tree that I shall plant tomorrow.” Those Irish are so…earthy. I might add that if you accidentally stumble drunkenly into a gay bar later in the evening, yelling “Plug up my hole!” will get you a ton of free drinks.
The “Guinness darts” reference is kinda hazy, but I think that at one point we were attempting to shoot darts when we overheard a nearby celebrant explaining to a patron, who was uninitiated in the ways of thick and greasy Irish beer, that you could tell that Guinness beer is good because you can stand a spoon up in it. There were no spoons handy, however, so I helpfully dropped one of my darts into his glass. It stood up! And so did he! And then, at some point, I awoke and was not standing up anymore.
“Inflatable hat nookie” should be obvious to you. I think I was referring to the fact that, at one point, a guy walked into one of the bars wearing a gigantic, green, inflatable novelty hat. I’m talking about a really big hat. No, like seven feet wide and nine feet tall. Biiiig hat. And women ran from all corners of the bar to nestle against him under his giant hat. He left with about twelve of them. You know what they say about guys with big hats*.
So, I would give the festivities a nine on the one-to-ten scale this year. I had to subtract one point because the next morning I awoke to discover that my hole had been…well…you know.
*They have big hatboxes.
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““Inflatable hat nookie” should be obvious to you. I think I was referring to the fact that, at one point, a guy walked into one of the bars wearing a gigantic, green, inflatable novelty hat. I’m talking about a really big hat. No, like seven feet wide and nine feet tall. Biiiig hat. And women ran from all corners of the bar to nestle against him under his giant hat. He left with about twelve of them.”
I’d have thrown cheap beer in his face, stolen the hat and used it for inflatable hat snow racing.
-Fu, have I told you lately that I love you?
wow…thats all. just…wow.