Three years ago at this time I would have already had my Jameson/Baileys/Coffee liquid breakfast, excused the pledges from their place in line at PT O'Malleys(where they had been holding our place since 3am), had 4 Irish Car Bombs and a Jameson or 2, and witnessed "Tank" vomit in his hand so the bouncer wouldn't kick him out before he had to leave for his 8am quiz. That was our pre-drink.
Now, I seriously contemplate quitting my job just so I don't have to go be locked in my cube cage like the cubicle monkey I've become. I have too much potential to be getting actual work done. Alcoholics need me out there, corporate America, to add fuel to the fire for late 20-somethings that didn't have it as good as I once did. It brings a tear to my eye to watch someone chew their very first Irish Car Bomb, as it had curdled while I explain what's actually in a Car Bomb. Oh, the innocence.
Don't get me wrong, I'll be out in some capacity today. However, I won't be vomiting. Upsetting, I know.
Please share your favorite St. Patty's Day memory in the comments section. That way we can all attempt to relive the debauchery of days past.
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