I hate St. Patrick’s Day.
St. Patrick’s Day used to be a day where people would celebrate it as a feast day. Then it was celebrated by the Irish in America as a way to not feel like fucking lepers amongst people who hated them.
Somewhere along the line, this happened.
Its the one day a year that everyone gets to pretend to drink like I do every day. I’m a professional. Seriously. Don’t try what I do at home. You will die. On St. Patrick’s Day you non-gingevites assume that drinking like a fish is adorable. It’s not if your liver can’t handle it. It’s just obnoxious.
You may be asking why it is that I’m writing this three months after the actual holiday. That is a good question. The answer is that I can’t stand most things for the weeks surrounding the holiday. My hatred is that deep.
Because even a trip to Target yields shit like this:
Do you hide from the sun for a day, too? No? Then you aren’t fucking irish. I am not sure how Mexican-Americans feel about Cinco de Mayo, but I suspect it is the same.
I like to spend St Patrick’s Day doing what God intended.
Eating hot wings and drinking a real beer.
I’ll try and post my pictures of me drinking wine on Columbus Day later.