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no four-leaf clovers on St. Patrick's Day, please

Discussion in 'Anything goes' started by writing irish, Mar 17, 2008.

  1. JayFarrar

    JayFarrar Well-Known Member

    With a birthday tomorrow, I have always deeply resented St. Patrick's Day.
    Nobody wants to do anything because they are hungover from the day before or because they are exhausted from the pub crawl.
    Plus, I ain't Irish and I think Guiness tastes awful.
     
  2. Buck

    Buck Well-Known Member

    You are clearly a heathen.
     
  3. 2muchcoffeeman

    2muchcoffeeman Well-Known Member

    Which explains a lot, now that you mention it.
     
  4. Inky_Wretch

    Inky_Wretch Well-Known Member

    Yes, yes he is.
     
  5. mike311gd

    mike311gd Active Member

    Dropkick Murphys -- Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced

    I play in a band, we're the best in the land
    We're big in both Chelsea and France
    I play one mean guitar and then score at the bar
    There's a line of chicks waiting for their chance
    So come on now honey, I'll make you feel pretty
    These other gals mean nothing to me
    Let's finish these drinks and be gone for the night
    'Cause I'm more than a handful, you'll see

    So kiss me, I'm shitfaced
    I'm soaked, I'm soiled and brown
    in the trousers, she kissed me
    And I only bought her one round

    I can bench press a car, I'm an ex football star
    with degrees from both Harvard and Yale
    Girls just can't keep up, I'm a real love machine
    I've had far better sex while in jail
    I've designed the Sears Tower, I make two grand an hour
    I cook the world's best duck flambe
    I'll take the pick of the litter, girls jockey for me
    I don't need these lines to get laid

    I'm a man of the night, a real ladies delight
    See my figure was chiseled from stone
    One more for the gal then I'll escort her home
    Come last call, I'm never alone
    I've a house on the hill with a red water bed
    That puts Hugh Heffnor's mansion to shame
    With girls by the pool and Italian sports cars
    I'm just here in this dump for the game

    Ahh, fuck it. Who am I shitting?

    I'm a pitiful sight, and I ain't all that bright
    I'm definitely not chiseled from stone
    I'm a cheat and a liar, no woman's desire
    I'll probably die cold and alone

    But just give me a chance, 'cause deep down inside
    I swear I got a big heart of gold
    I'm a monogamous man, no more one night stands
    Come on, honey, let me take you home
     
  6. mike311gd

    mike311gd Active Member

    I'm glad the pieces are coming together for you.
     
  7. writing irish

    writing irish Active Member

    Another pint...

     
  8. BigSleeper

    BigSleeper Active Member

    Many of you probably aren't old enough to remember this:

    Jane Curtin: And now we come to St Patrick's Day and John Belushi is here to discuss the luck of the Irish.

    John Belushi: Thank you, thank you very much. Well, it's come that time again, St. Patrick's Day has come and gone and well, the sons of Ireland are basking in the glow. When I think of Ireland I think a lot of colorful Irish expressions like, "Top of the morning to ya," "Kiss the barney stone," "May the road rise to meet ya," "May you be in heaven an hour before the devil knows you're dead," "I'd like to smash you in the face with my shillelagh," "Danny-boy," "Begorra," "Wail of the banshee," and "Whiskey for the leprechauns, whisky for the leprechauns." But the expression I think most people identify with the Irish, is, of course, the luck of the Irish.
    The luck of the Irish. Sure. Let's say you're in a pub somewhere in Ireland, oh, anywhere in Ireland, some guy comes up to you and says, "Hey is that a bomb on you I hear ticking?" And then BAM!!! Your small intestines are on the ceiling and your brains are on your car across the street. That's the luck of the Irish for ya, who's kidding who, okay?

    Let's talk about the bad luck of the Irish, all right? How about this, POTATO FAMINE!! How about that? It scares them, doesn't it? Well, it should. That's why they came here in the first place. So they wouldn't have to work in the potato fields. That's why they became politicians, priests, and cops. Luck? Gimme a break.
    (he gets more and more worked up as he continues)
    I got a friend, his name is Dan Sullivan, he's Irish as they come. We used to drink together a lot. After two drinks, he would look like an Irish pirate. You know? You think he had luck? In one day he got his car stolen, and the stupid, he had no insurance, and no license, and he gets locked up for being drunk. And after that, he takes off for someplace like India or Nepal, or someplace like that. And his mother dies, ya know, so they wire him to tell him to come to the funeral. It's his mother's funeral, that's all. And he's in India or Nepal, sitting squat-legged listening to some sacred cow. So he comes back and he gets stopped at U.S. Customs for trafficking illegal drugs, not holding, he's trafficking. I mean, here's this guy Sullivan, his old lady kicks off, he gets popped at the border and he's sitting on fifty pounds of black Tibetan finger hash and two keys of slam. Now that's not bad luck, that's DUMB luck. I don't think luck has anything to do with it, I don't think he has any brains at all. First of all, he's drunk, then he's a junkie. I don't know what's worse! Don't ask me, ask Sullivan! And what happens?! He calls me up and says, "Hey man, I got busted at the border. I need five grand bail." I said, I said, "Five grand man!? Hey man, I've never even seen five thousand dollars in my life, so don't ask me for it, man, why don't you ask your mother!!" (aside) Which was a dumb thing for me to say because his mother just died. (returns to his loud tirade) Right now, I got this drunken Irish junkie who wants to kill me because of what I said about his mother being in terminal dreamland! Oh pal. One thing! One thing!!! They love their mothers, boy, oh they love their mothers. It's momma this, momma that. (starts flailing his arms wildly in the way only John Belushi could) Oh my Irish mother! Ireland must be heaven, because my mother.. aauugghhh! Aaauugghhh!!! (as he flails he nearly slams his head on the desk and then falls off his chair, still screaming)

    Jane Curtin: Well, that's the news. Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow.
     
  9. Rumpleforeskin

    Rumpleforeskin Active Member

    Dropkick Murphy's are solid. That's all I got.

    Edit: I also bring a link to "Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced" a live version...

    (NSFW)
     
  10. Chef

    Chef Active Member

    Not going out tonight, but we got some of those cheap, plastic, green, 32oz. yarns at a party store around.

    It'll do the trick, but the next one I buy will be of a 2 liter boot from Beerfest.

    Freakin' Sweet.
     
  11. HC

    HC Well-Known Member

    As a descendant of the most boring people on the face of the Earth I have longed all my life to be Irish. I sing a wicked feckin' "Danny Boy" and sang "The Mingalay Boat Song' with the band in Wexford.

    But I don't go out on St. Patrick's Day. There are no real Irish people out that day.

    But I did make a lamb stew and soda bread for dinner tonight.
     
  12. Bubbler

    Bubbler Well-Known Member

    When I was a kid, I put a red sweatshirt on by accident on St. Patrick's Day, and my 100 percent Irish dad was irate.

    "What the hell? Why are you wearing that?"
    "I dunno. Why?"
    "It's red."
    "So?"
    "Red? England? The English? You're Irish. You don't wear red on St. Patrick's Day, what's wrong with you?"
    "Truth be told, I'm half-German too."
    "Yeah, yeah. On St. Fritz Day, you can fucking wear lederhosen. On St. Patrick's Day, you wear green."

    That stuck with me. Fast forward to yesterday when my 5-year-old and 4-year-old were asking about what to wear on St. Patrick's Day.

    "Daddy, are we supposed to wear green?"
    "Yep. I know you guys don't have a lot of green, just don't wear red."
    "Why?"
    "Red is the color of England ... and they're evil!"

    Just then I realized my wife -- who was giving me the glare -- has about 10 percent English blood, which means my kids are part-English. A sour look came to pasty-as-fuck half-Irish face.

    "Oh ... you guys are part English ... yeah ... I'm not talking to you guys tomorrow."

    "Honey!"
     
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