Category Archives: St. Patrick’s Day

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

I hope you started your day with some pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers because today is St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, I am talking about Lucky Charms, nature’s perfect breakfast food other than Cap’n Crunch or Honeycombs. If you needed to have a warm breakfast, then perhaps you settled for a bowl of McCann’s Irish Oatmeal and if you are a big ol’ lush, maybe you just sucked down a Guinness. If that is the case, do not feel bad about it, for today is St. Patrick’s Day and heavy drinking is not only expected, it is encouraged. Does anyone even really know what St. Patrick did? He’s a Catholic something or other and the only hard-core Catholic I know that would be able to give me the lowdown on the guy is probably on her fourth or fifth beer by now. (Marlene, call me. It’s been a while.) Did he chase the rats out of Ireland or see the image of the Virgin Mary on a piece of Irish soda bread toast? I have no idea. Maybe he turned water into green beer? Regardless, today is the day that we all wear green and some people pull out their stupid ass “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” buttons and we go around pinching people who forgot to wear the color of the day. We go to McDonald’s for a shamrock shake and then we head over to Bennigan’s, Houlihan’s, or Maggie Mae’s Irish Pub to get as trashed as we possibly can because that is what St. Patrick and the Catholic church would want. We must honor that tradition, y’all. Get trashed. And don’t worry if you forgot to wear green. If you drink enough pints, your face will soon be the right shade.

When I worked at Houlihan’s, we had a big ass countdown clock one year counting down to the minute that people felt it was acceptable to order beer at 11:00 AM. Why people thought Houlihan’s was a traditional Irish establishment, I’ll never know. Are nachos and chicken fingers Irish? Now that I think about it, I do recall hearing a story about how St. Patrick needed to feed a hundred billion people one time but all he had was one block of Velveeta cheese and a lone bag of Doritos. But miracle of miracles, he fed those multitudes nachos until they were satisfied. That is the power of St. Patty!

I will keep this post brief because I know you are probably already drunk by now (Marlene, call me) and you are ready to go put on your leprechaun costume and run around looking for a pot of gold. I will be at work tonight serving all the drunk bitches in green but I will do it with a smile on my face. For that is what St. Patrick, the patron saint of nachos, would want. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

(yes, this was a repost…)

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Old Irish Eyes Are Smiling…and Bloodshot

I went out for drinks last night in a Queens neighborhood which has a very high population of Irish. Every other bar on the Queens Boulevard of Death is an Irish pub, so we eventually settled into one that had a lush backyard garden, cheap beer and a sign that said “Live Trad Tonight.” Not knowing what ‘trad’ was, we went inside and quickly realized it’s a type of Irish music that sounds like a leprechaun should be dancing to it. We found ourselves on the patio and at the table next to us was a group of rowdy youngins who were downing pint after pint of Guinness in between forkfuls of corned beef and cabbage. One of them seemed pretty drunk and this was confirmed when he stood up and started yelling at the window of the apartment above the bar on the second floor. He really wanted the attention of someone so he proceeded to throw things at the window, the first thing being a tea bag, presumably Twinings Irish Breakfast Tea. Anyone who isn’t drunk would know that a tea bag would not fly very far, much less to a second floor window. Even if it did hit the window, the sound it would make would be indistinguishable. He threw it anyway and the tea bag fell to the patio where he did not bother to pick it up. Nice. He went back to his bowl of potato soup sprinkled with Lucky Charms and then decided he really needed to get to the second floor. Now, I’m not Irish (I’m half regular) but I would have gone out of the bar and then into the building and used the stairs or elevator. But this guy had a better idea. He Riverdanced his way over to the fire escape ladder which was just a bit taller than his leprechaun size and therefore over his head. We all watched him and wondered if this Irish O’douche bag was really going to pull down the ladder to climb up to the second floor. He was. But since he couldn’t quite reach the ladder he decided to stand on a planter because everyone knows it’s a good idea to stand on the edge of a planter when you are drunk and trying to climb a ladder up to the second floor. I sat back and prepared for the show. His friends egged him on as they drank Shamrock Shakes and discussed Sinéad O’Connor’s new haircut. As soon as he put his weight on the planter it toppled over sending him to the ground along with the plant and all the dirt. “Why didn’t I have my cell phone ready?” I cried out. His friends laughed and he stood up with a stupid shit-eating grin on his face and ran back to his table to take another bite of Irish soda bread. He cared not that he had created a huge pile of dirt that was directly in front of the door to the patio that the server would now have to step through. A minute later, the server, who was also Irish, came out and we warned him to avoid the pile of dirt and he looked down just in time to hop over it and not trip. “What happened?” he wanted to know. We pointed to the culprit who was searching for a four-leaf clover. “He knocked it over, but his friends might be able to explain why.” Not one of the people at his table acknowledged it. They completely ignored that their drunk ass friend had made a huge mess of the patio and carried on with their recipe swap of Shepard’s Pie.

The server got down on his knees with a bucket and began sweeping up the dirt. As he did this, the drunk guy stumbled past him and left the patio and another person came up from the table to ask for change. If that ain’t rude, I dunno what is. My Brit friend said to the waiter, “I thought you Irish could hold your liquor.” “Some of us can,” he replied. The rest of the hooligans left the patio after the server was finished cleaning up the mess their friend had made.

I was thankful that wasn’t where I worked. Had that happened in my station, the whole group would have been asked to leave as soon as they had told me where to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I just had to sit there and feel uncomfortable for the waiter who had to clean up dirt because a drunk guy couldn’t control himself. The luck of the Irish must have been with the waiter though because I bet ten minutes later the guy would have tossed his Irish Oatmeal cookies and dirt is a lot better to sweep than puke. It’s ain’t magically delicious.

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It’s St. Patrick’s Day: Get Trashed

I hope you started your day with some pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers because today is St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, I am talking about Lucky Charms, nature’s perfect breakfast food other than Cap’n Crunch or Honeycombs. If you needed to have a warm breakfast, then perhaps you settled for a bowl of McCann’s Irish Oatmeal and if you are a big ol’ lush, maybe you just sucked down a Guinness. If that is the case, do not feel bad about it, for today is St. Patrick’s Day and heavy drinking is not only expected, it is encouraged. Does anyone even really know what St. Patrick did? He’s a Catholic something or other and the only hard-core Catholic I know that would be able to give me the lowdown on the guy is probably on her fourth or fifth beer by now. (Marlene, call me. It’s been a while.) Did he chase the rats out of Ireland or see the image of the Virgin Mary on a piece of Irish soda bread toast? I have no idea. Maybe he turned water into green beer? Regardless, today is the day that we all wear green and some people pull out their stupid ass “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” buttons and we go around pinching people who forgot to wear the color of the day. We go to McDonald’s for a shamrock shake and then we head over to Bennigan’s, Houlihan’s, or Maggie Mae’s Irish Pub to get as trashed as we possibly can because that is what St. Patrick and the Catholic church would want. We must honor that tradition, y’all. Get trashed. And don’t worry if you forgot to wear green. If you drink enough pints, your face will soon be the right shade.

When I worked at Houlihan’s, we had a big ass countdown clock one year counting down to the minute that people felt it was acceptable to order beer at 11:00 AM. Why people thought Houlihan’s was a traditional Irish establishment, I’ll never know. Are nachos and chicken fingers Irish? Now that I think about it, I do recall hearing a story about how St. Patrick needed to feed a hundred billion people one time but all he had was one block of Velveeta cheese and a lone bag of Doritos. But miracle of miracles, he fed those multitudes nachos until they were satisfied. That is the power of St. Patty!

I will keep this post brief because I know you are probably already drunk by now (Marlene, call me) and you are ready to go put on your leprechaun costume and run around looking for a pot of gold. I will be at work tonight serving all the drunk bitches in green but I will do it with a smile on my face. For that is what St. Patrick, the patron saint of nachos, would want. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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I’m Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover


Today is March 17th so it’s the day that we all give ourselves permission to take off from work an hour early, pour ourselves a pint of green beer and celebrate the legend of Saint Patrick. I decided to do a little research on him so I delved into the wonderful world of wikipedia and learned that he was a Christian missionary in Ireland and he died in 493 AD. He spent some time as a slave and then he became a bishop and then he banished snakes from the whole island of Ireland. Now color me surprised, but I always thought that Saint Patrick must have been some Guinness drinking leprechaun who only had one purpose in life and that was to get totally trashed on March 17th. Turns out that the 17th is the day he died, so we are commemorating his death by slurping down shamrock shakes at McDonald’s and wearing green ties and socks. When I worked at Bennigan’s, St. Patrick’s Day was a huge thing. We had some kind of countdown to March 17th and when the day finally arrived, people would cram themselves into the place and get trashed, all in the name of this wonderful Christian missionary who died 1500 years ago. And the only Irish thing about Bennigan’s was the name. The kitchen would always throw together some crappy ass special of corned beef and cabbage and then we’d sell Guinness drafts for a dollar less than usual and people would pour into that place like it was St. Patrick’s Cathedral. They’d all have on their “Kiss Me I’m Irish” buttons and their green berets and basically just get on my non-Irish nerves. If I could have anything today, it would be to find a four-leaf clover and make a wish that frat boys wouldn’t get so drunk that they had to throw up on the 7 train. Do we really need another excuse to go to restaurants and drink to the point of no return? Can’t people observe this special day by having a bowl of Lucky Charms in the morning, saying a prayer on a rainbow, finding a pot of gold and staying out of my station?

Happy St. Patrick’s Day from The Bitchy Waiter.

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