This is quite possibly my favourite week of the year. The days are getting longer, there's a hint of spring in the air, there are 44 hours of glorious college basketball looming on the horizon, and today, the entire working world will find themselves carousing in various dark and smokey Irish Pubs from noon until the wee hours of the morning, drinking obscene amounts of Guinness and Bushmills, and stumbling drunkenly in-step to the likes of The Pogues and Van Morrison while telling half-pissed strangers how much they love them.
Aye, it's St. Patrick's Day.
And if it's true what they say about everybody being Irish on St. Patrick's Day, than do as any good Irishman would and join the rest of us in disregarding any semblance of responsibility by getting completely and utterly pissed while you're supposed to be working. It's exactly what Saint Patrick had in mind when he banished snakes from the Emerald Isle some 1600 years ago.
So throw on the most hideously mismatching green ensemble you can find. Fill your pockets with as much cash as you can reasonably get your hands on. Read the following treatise by The Supa Pilot. Tell your boss you're going for lunch. Leave the car parked exactly where it is. Watch the following two videos:
...And then meet us at The Pour House.
Aye, it's St. Patrick's Day.
And if it's true what they say about everybody being Irish on St. Patrick's Day, than do as any good Irishman would and join the rest of us in disregarding any semblance of responsibility by getting completely and utterly pissed while you're supposed to be working. It's exactly what Saint Patrick had in mind when he banished snakes from the Emerald Isle some 1600 years ago.
So throw on the most hideously mismatching green ensemble you can find. Fill your pockets with as much cash as you can reasonably get your hands on. Read the following treatise by The Supa Pilot. Tell your boss you're going for lunch. Leave the car parked exactly where it is. Watch the following two videos:
...And then meet us at The Pour House.
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