Monday, March 17, 2008
This St. Patrick's Day will not end in vomit
Dear heathens who are celebrating St. Patrick's Day today even though Herr Pope said we should do it on Saturday, Let me give you a few words of advice: a) carbombs are gross and will destroy your soul/stomach, but if you insist upon it, b) DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES USE CRAPPY KNOCKOFF IRISH CREAM. Yes, St. Brendan's, I'm talking about you. I mean, it doesn't taste quite as butterscotch-y as Merry's, but you only need to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to throw something up one time before you lose your affection for it. What I'm saying is, is that this blog officially endorses Bailey's. Accept no substitutes. And for god's sake, who thought of putting it in Guinness* with whiskey in the first place? Goddamn crazy Irish bastards. But back to St. Brendan's. Whatshisname and friends bought two bottles for St. Patrick's Day last year. This was overkill. Besides doing some carbombs (I gag a little at the memory), I thought it would be smart to make a drink with old St. B's. I believe it was root beer, Jameson's, and St. Brendan's. It may have been successful had I been in possession of a martini shaker. But alas, the stir-mix was insufficient and St. B's ended up curdling into little chunks. I drank most of it anyway. You may say, Lauren, you are obviously an idiot and probably got what you deserved. And I would say, perhaps. But at the time I was just trying to cope with the fact that I was the only girl there and all the guys had just gone to see 300 that day and WOULD NOT SHUT UP ABOUT SPARTA. Anyway, the extra bottle (or remnants thereof) of St. Brendan's ended up in MY liquor cabinet with some other gross things Whatshisname was trying to get rid of. Like Goldschlager. Well, after the breakup, Whatshisname took with him all his classy alcohol, a certain stash that shall not be named, and a ridiculous number of my awesome Goodwill t-shirts (I WANT THEM BACK). However, Goldschlager and St. Brendan's were so thoughtfully left for my roommates and me to enjoy. And by enjoy, I mean think about pouring down the sink every time I remember it's there. I think that in the spirit of the holiday, I will go home after work and dump St. Brendan's right down the drain. And then I will responsibly recycle the bottle. So, one last word of advice, o ye faux-Irish revelers: don't let your boyfriend store his shitty alcohol in your liquor cabinet. You will never be rid of it. Ever. And let's try to stay away from boarding the vomit train this year. Love, ME *Guinness is gross. Objectively. I understand that there are many people, most of them people who, unlike me, actually like beer, who quite enjoy Guinness. These people are wrong. I maintain that it is objectively gross. That is all.