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‘Twas the night before St. Paddy’s and all through the frat house, not a mixed drink was stirring or being spilled on a blouse. The shot glasses were lined on the counter with care, with hopes that Liquor Claus soon would be there. The frat stars were passed out uncomfortably in bed, as images of titties danced in their head.
There we go. I like that version much better. Yes, the national day where the term “green” changes from being environmentally friendly to drinking until vision isn’t an option is upon us. However, as I sit here reminiscing on last year’s debauchery and look forward to the events of this year’s “Day of the Should be Dead,” I can’t help but notice something substantial that has happened to my life. St. Patrick’s Day has officially replaced Christmas as mine and just about all my peers’ most anticipated holiday of the year. I almost just shed a tear for my lost youth as I wrote that. St. Paddy’s day to us “adults” now, compared to Christmas when we were kids, brews up a bounty of similarities that most don’t even realize.
Just like Christmas Eve, we prepare for St. Patrick’s Day the night before. We hit the liquor stores knowing full well they won’t be open early enough in the morning and stock up on alcohol, having it out and ready for consumption like cookies and milk for Saint Nick. The anticipation of the events to come when we wake keeps us up at night like a crushed Adderall the night before an exam. The excitement when you wake up in the morning sends a jolt rushing through your loins that you haven’t felt since your first handjob. Your biological family isn’t there to greet you, but your Greek family is bearing gifts that require no unwrapping but just a simple twist off instead. Music fills the air creating a mood fitting of the occasion. Your chestnuts begin roasting on an open fire as more and more sorority girls come piling in, eager to make bad decisions. Jack Frost nipping at your nose takes on a whole new meaning. Exchanging gifts has been replaced with exchanging beads for special favors. There is no naughty and nice, but only naughty and naughtier.
Much like family gatherings at Christmas time, people giving you a hard time comes with the territory on St. Paddy’s Day as well. The creepy uncle always getting too drunk and making weird and inappropriate comments about some of the younger females in your family has been replaced by the creep pledge that just kind of stands around at parties looking for a leg to hump. Your mom always nagging you about your lifestyle choices has been replaced by your risk manager telling you not to dive head first through a bedroom door. And of course there’s the aunt that constantly asks whether or not you have a girlfriend yet who has been replaced by your sorority stalker or ex-girlfriend checking up on your state of affairs and which girls you’ve been talking to lately.
At the end of the day, Christmas definitely still has a special place in my heart and should for everyone, but it’s time to except the fact that as you get older it loses the excitement and wonderment that it gave you when you were a kid. However, my passion for excessive drinking only continues to grow, and with it, my love for St. Patrick’s Day. You better drink stout. You better get high. Try not to pass out I’m telling you why. St. Patrick’s Day is coming to town..