Saint Patrick's Day is a noble holiday that many of us have warped into a night of drunken revelries and perverse pleasures. I believe in my heart that God picks a few people out every year to punish for the sins of every drunk idiot out on the prowl during what was supposed to be a religious holiday. This is the story of when I was chosen as the scapegoat for all of humanity. I am you sacrificial lamb in a funny Irish t-shirt, and all I want in return is for you to hear my story...and be warned.
This St. Paddy's Day began like any other. I was intending to pub crawl my way through several establishments over the course of five hours, drinking at each stop, and trading a funny Irish t-shirt for a kiss once an hour. Thusly, I wore five funny Irish t-shirts in preparation for the night's activities. The first hour started by walking into the pub and slamming down several shots of whiskey and ordering my first pint of green beer. Huge mistake for a typically light drinker. I gave my first funny Irish t-shirt away and kissed a pretty girl on the cheek.
I totally did not care that my friends were gone, because I found another bar without the help of anyone. The second hour was actually really fun, and in the heat of the laughing and dancing and talking I must have drunk a lot more booze than I meant to. I bartered away two of my funny Irish t-shirts to these girls who I wanted to see make out, which ended well because they flashed me for free. I felt I got a bargain. I then left them to make out with a fat girl in the corner who didn't seem to mind how drunk I was as lone as I didn't mind how fat she was.
In the third hour things started getting hazy. I know that the chunky girl had a brother, who punched me very hard in the ribs while I was kissing her. It hurt very much, but my efforts for revenge only got me ejected from the bar by bouncers...which also hurt pretty bad. I found the first pub I had gone to and proceeded to drink more shots of Jameson whiskey. Hour number three ended with me throwing up outside.
There is no accounting for the rest of the night. I have no idea what time I woke up, but it was on a smelly mattress in a jail cell. I had to have my friends bail me out, and I just now finished paying them back and paying for all of my fines. The fun I had that night in no way compensates for waking up sans funny Irish t-shirts in jail with hair dyed green. I do believe this year will be spent at home and watching Irish-themed movies. I may even go to mass.
This St. Paddy's Day began like any other. I was intending to pub crawl my way through several establishments over the course of five hours, drinking at each stop, and trading a funny Irish t-shirt for a kiss once an hour. Thusly, I wore five funny Irish t-shirts in preparation for the night's activities. The first hour started by walking into the pub and slamming down several shots of whiskey and ordering my first pint of green beer. Huge mistake for a typically light drinker. I gave my first funny Irish t-shirt away and kissed a pretty girl on the cheek.
I totally did not care that my friends were gone, because I found another bar without the help of anyone. The second hour was actually really fun, and in the heat of the laughing and dancing and talking I must have drunk a lot more booze than I meant to. I bartered away two of my funny Irish t-shirts to these girls who I wanted to see make out, which ended well because they flashed me for free. I felt I got a bargain. I then left them to make out with a fat girl in the corner who didn't seem to mind how drunk I was as lone as I didn't mind how fat she was.
In the third hour things started getting hazy. I know that the chunky girl had a brother, who punched me very hard in the ribs while I was kissing her. It hurt very much, but my efforts for revenge only got me ejected from the bar by bouncers...which also hurt pretty bad. I found the first pub I had gone to and proceeded to drink more shots of Jameson whiskey. Hour number three ended with me throwing up outside.
There is no accounting for the rest of the night. I have no idea what time I woke up, but it was on a smelly mattress in a jail cell. I had to have my friends bail me out, and I just now finished paying them back and paying for all of my fines. The fun I had that night in no way compensates for waking up sans funny Irish t-shirts in jail with hair dyed green. I do believe this year will be spent at home and watching Irish-themed movies. I may even go to mass.
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For more information about funny Irish t-shirts check out Matt's pick for the best funny Saint Patrick's Day t-shirts on the web.
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