Shenaniganza

I'm awful at this thing.

The second to last Saturday ago was St Patrick's Day. St Pat, as some of you may know, was the Patron Saint of Awesome. He was in charge of getting drunk and playing Tetris, and sometimes he even was the Patron Saint of...other things. Such as when your friend is taking one for the team, and you just don't know what team, or even why, so you just steal the chick's little brother's Drum Game and stay up until the w[ee/ii] hours of the night, drumming away to Material Girl and Chumbawumba like there's just no tomorrow, fighting the dawn with PBR after PBR. After you finally can't see straight enough to stop the gay dancing wolves from mocking you, calling you out and you amble out to the porch, beer in hand, shaking your fist at the sun and saying "Seriously--Ridge Racer? On Oni? Thats heavy shit, right there." He's kind of the Patron Saint of that.

Which is, y'know--awesome.

5:10 am I wake and amble upstairs to find the bathroom occupied. I sit for a moment, glare at the wall, and shuffle back downstairs. 5:20 am I shuffle back up and brandish my fist towards the closed door. 5:30 am it opens and I offer urination rights to those who desire them, as I feel urination should come before shower. It's just a good practice to take up. Little did I know that the bathroom would soon be commandeered. 5:50 am I get my chance and I am in and out and dressed and contacted-all-up by 5:56 am.

We walk to Paddy's Pub, a few blocks away. I order a round of Gunnei for those surrounding me and we make our way inside. Because I paid for the first round of drinks it's only natural that in waiting for my change I am the last to the seats and get the honor of standing. Fuckers. Fucker Fuckers. I consume two beers and wander home, grabbing a stray battery for my cell phone and finishing the process of waking up. It is now 7:15 am, I walk to McDonalds and then to Bar #2, Rascal's. I drink a green miller lite solo-style, then walk over to Bar #3, BBC's. We shoot pool and eat chips and salsa and drink pitchers of Bitter Woman IPA which is neither Irish nor Green but hey--fuck Women who are also bitter, right? and then we walk to Bar #4, Vittuci's. By this point it is a quarter of nine and hey--shots? Why the hell not, right? Shots and T-Shirts all around, courtesy Adam, and Jake mans up and takes his first. I'll be damned if I'm going to let Jake out-alcoholic me and I slam mine back, too. The others follow. We walk outside. Hey, I say. If Jake can handle his liquor, then I c--Jake handles his The Knot shot all over the sidewalk. And, your mom--because she happens to be there. Weird, right?

McDonalds again and we walk to Bar #5, Halliday's. Crazy Paul drops $30 on shots for us, who he does not know. Jameson? It's 11--why not? We shoot darts and drink gree--hey, look... it's Paul again. Thirty more dollars in shots? Okay. Okay, Paul. Okay. We drink green beer and shoot more darts and--okay, what the fuck? No, Paul. $90 worth of shots for people you do not know is not okay. Or it is so okay. I forget. We steal wall decals and we leave.

Bar #6, Up-&-Under. Pool is played, which is new. Beer is had, which is green and also new. Bakery break!

B a k e r y ' s a r e d e l i c i o u s.

Bar #7, Scaffidi's. Pool is--too damn full. Beer. Mmm, beer.

Bar #8, Wolski's. Beer. Mmm, beer.

Bar #9, Judges. Nobody is here. Bar #9 becomes Qdoba. Qdoba becomes home. It is now 3:30 pm. I sleep. It is now 6:05 pm.

People appear, in small groups or alone, and beer is begun anew. It's a party. Party things happen. We invent new, clever games. Such as Flip a Card and Take a Drink, which soon becomes Say a Number and Drink that many and eventually I'm Going to Spin This Quarter and You Drink While it Spins, okay? which is a good game. Shots! Pictures! Woo! There is a guy passed out on the floor, sleeping in a bed of stick-it notes and gummi worms. People have pictures taken of his head + their balls. Eventually a cab is called. The driver is told to take The Body to 35th and Viliet. The Body climbs in the back, grateful for such nice strangers as to get a cab to take him somewhere.

He is never heard from again.

The end.