2008 Woodie Awards
I stayed sober on St. Patty's Day
Terry Badman
Issue date: 3/21/07 Section: Opinion
Sweet St. Patty's
It's the one day out of the year that you are allowed - no, REQUIRED - to get entirely obliterated and obnoxious, and then piss in your roommate's fridge. All in the name of the patron Saint of Ireland.
God bless those crazy Irish. Thanks for Lucky Charms and leprechauns.
I chose to write this inquisitive editorial on St. Patrick's Day. I felt that the holiday was worthy to write about, considering my primary audience consists of collegiate Coors-chuggers and Dead Heads.
Oh Danny Boy, the hangover's a callin.'
Like many of you, I'm not really all that Irish, yet I still feel the need to celebrate.
But instead of a bottle of Irish whiskey, I chose to stick to my roots with a nice bottle of deer blood: Germany's Jägermeister.
That being said, this year was the first year in which I did NOT get completely Belushi-buzzed or Sinatra-smashed. I had a couple drinks, but I didn't feel the urge to drink until my face fell off. For a little while, I was actually quite distraught at that entire concept.
Is it possible to enjoy St. Patrick's Day without the aide of a bottle of Jameson and a dozen long necks of Guinness?
The answer my friends, is ehhh . . . kind of.
My Patty's was about as interesting as a kickboxing match between two paraplegics. I sat in my apartment, had a couple drinks, and eventually said the hell with the whole damn thing and went to bed.
Now I know I can have a good time without getting completely take-my-clothes-off-and-bathe-in-Play-Doh drunk, but for some ungodly reason I can't seem to be satisfied with a "few drinks" on Patty's - I just can't.
Like Rosie O'Donnel at a Ponderosa buffet line, I just gotsta have more.
But after I realized that my Patty's was mostly shot to hell worse than Tupac's BMW, I actually began to question why I wanted to drink so bad in the first place.
My mind wanted to drink heavily, but my body just wasn't feeling it. I felt like someone who conveniently gets headaches minutes before sex as a means to avoid the whole shabang.
It's the one day out of the year that you are allowed - no, REQUIRED - to get entirely obliterated and obnoxious, and then piss in your roommate's fridge. All in the name of the patron Saint of Ireland.
God bless those crazy Irish. Thanks for Lucky Charms and leprechauns.
I chose to write this inquisitive editorial on St. Patrick's Day. I felt that the holiday was worthy to write about, considering my primary audience consists of collegiate Coors-chuggers and Dead Heads.
Oh Danny Boy, the hangover's a callin.'
Like many of you, I'm not really all that Irish, yet I still feel the need to celebrate.
But instead of a bottle of Irish whiskey, I chose to stick to my roots with a nice bottle of deer blood: Germany's Jägermeister.
That being said, this year was the first year in which I did NOT get completely Belushi-buzzed or Sinatra-smashed. I had a couple drinks, but I didn't feel the urge to drink until my face fell off. For a little while, I was actually quite distraught at that entire concept.
Is it possible to enjoy St. Patrick's Day without the aide of a bottle of Jameson and a dozen long necks of Guinness?
The answer my friends, is ehhh . . . kind of.
My Patty's was about as interesting as a kickboxing match between two paraplegics. I sat in my apartment, had a couple drinks, and eventually said the hell with the whole damn thing and went to bed.
Now I know I can have a good time without getting completely take-my-clothes-off-and-bathe-in-Play-Doh drunk, but for some ungodly reason I can't seem to be satisfied with a "few drinks" on Patty's - I just can't.
Like Rosie O'Donnel at a Ponderosa buffet line, I just gotsta have more.
But after I realized that my Patty's was mostly shot to hell worse than Tupac's BMW, I actually began to question why I wanted to drink so bad in the first place.
My mind wanted to drink heavily, but my body just wasn't feeling it. I felt like someone who conveniently gets headaches minutes before sex as a means to avoid the whole shabang.
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