If you thought part one of my St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans might have been an isolated incident. Read on to find out why I’m under house arrest today. Go out and have all the drunken fun for me and I’ll live vicariously through you…


You’ve heard one example of my version of March Madness and now here’s another reason why St. Patrick’s Day sometimes hurts – literally. I don’t mind the crowds and all the tacky lime green clothing, but the real truth is that I keep getting injured on St. Patrick’s Day. I am clumsy normally, but my dilapidated sense of coordination is heightened on that day more than others for some reason and I always end up face down – ass up covered in bruises.

I will tell you the event that actually was the tipping point of why I can’t go out on St. Patrick’s Day anymore. My wife was pregnant and had no interest in hanging out with a bunch of drunk fools (i.e. me) so she went out for the day without me. If you think this is leading towards me blaming her, it isn’t.  I have tried blaming…

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25 thoughts on “

  1. Awesome tale! Please tell us that pic is of you (LOVE). Also the Uber app is your buddy – it’s the perfect personal car service for the Irish. And me. And you.


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