The Long Awkward St. Patrick’s Day Review

I’m trying to type quietly because I want to die. In a burst of corporate largesse, Howard flipped me the LAP Corporate Black Card. He commissioned me and De Voss to conduct holiday research on St. Patrick’s Day from a Boston pub crawl perspective. What follows are my notes, made along the way. Enjoy. I’m going off to dessicate…

DAY 01: ENROUTE FROM BOSTON – My first entry, done on this flight to Dublin, Ireland. No idea what happened to De Voss. He arrived in Boston in rainbow-colored shorts and a New York Yankees tee shirt. The last thing I remember him saying was, “But the earring makes me look gangsta, bitch,” to some guy named Southie (?). After De Voss vanished I seized the initiative and decided to go to the source! I’m having hair of the dog, on the card of course, and the flight attendant – I believe – thinks we’re engaged. Poor Steven; whatever keeps the booze coming.

DAY 03: Dublin is awesome! I told the cabbie to take me to a pub for St. Patrick’s Day. Not sure where he dropped me, but these Irish are really nice and hospitable. They apparently don’t celebrate this holiday, but I filled them in and they all bought me pints. Although I explained that they drove on the wrong side of the road, they patted me on the head and said, “There’s a buggered up Yank.” I think that means we’re bros. In every new pub, I apparently have to explain my family tree, but I’ve proven that I’m Irish, apparently.

DAY 04: I lost track of sunraise, or whatever. Molly – my new tour guide – said it was today. We visited five pubs. Everyone seems to know her, and not a soul has given her crap about her nose hair. Nobody there knew about St. Patrick’s, but a big guy with a frowny face asked if “I be speakin’ ill o’ the blessed saints.” I told him no, I might be a Raiders fan but I’d never talk shit about anyone who won the super bowl since the Raiders’ last win.

DAY 5: What is a pint? Why is the sun so bright here in Ireland? I cannot find Molly, or my wallet. Good thing the corporate card was in my front pocket because I need a drink. Pint. Whatever. Have successfully worked my way four blocks up the road of pubs I started on after Shannon Airport. I think it was six or seven more pubs. I need to know what they call motrin here. Also wonder about the names of these places. ‘The Bloody Brit,’ and ‘Hare on the Hog’ make me wonder. Why name a pub for Britney?

DAY six: fckucking computer. Keys sticky. Tshis is liek typntg with a hammer. Four more pubs, no idea here about snaint patrica or cloveras. Need to find molly cause it bruns when I pee and I have quesitions. Ian is my new bff. He will help me findher.

Seven or 8; hoeward keeps calllig but I don’t udnersnatdn him. Three pusb toyda. Fell sick. I cnat see to tyep. Hoew maany pubbbbbbs ar in eyrladn? Molly boooobs