There Has to Be a Morning After

If you’ve been reading this blog for any time at all, you probably don’t expect to see very much here the day after St Patty’s.  Or Cinqo de Mayo.  I’m writing this Monday night.

powderThe plan is, a bunch of us are meeting at the Liquor & Rubber Balls Sports Bar and Vacuum Cleaner Repair where we’ll get started on the Guinness and shots of Bushmills.  (I will pass on the Bushmills.  Comes to hard stuff, I’m a tequila purist, with occasional winter time forays into Jack Daniels country.)  Afterwards, whoever’s left standing will head on over to a rather not-well-known titty bar called The Wiggle Room, where the clientèle isn’t quite as lesbian-laden as LRBs, for some mature entertainment (mature” is a synonym for “adolescent”).  A splendid time is guaranteed for all.  Hope I remember.

* * *

Liam the Irishman walks into a bar with with an ostrich and a cat.  The bartender, scowling, asks him what he’ll have.  “Guinness,” says Liam. “Bushmills,” says the ostrich.  “I’ll have one of each,” says the cat, “but I’m not payin’!”  Barkeep serves it, rings it up, and Liam produces the exact amount plus 20% and slaps it on the bar.  They drink up and leave.

Next day they’re back.  “Black and tan,” says Liam.  ‘Tullamore Dew,” says the ostrich.  “One of each,” says the cat, “but I’m not payin’!”  And again, when Barkeep rings it up, Liam reaches into his pocket, produces the exact fare plus 20%, never even counting.

100200_bigThis goes on the entire week.  No matter what they order, the cat ain’t payin’, and Liam pulls out the cash without looking.  Finally Barkeep asks what the hell this is all about.

“Me own fault,” sighs Liam.  “Six months back I come face to face with a leprechaun.  Throttle the little divvil and he grants me two wishes to let him go.  I name ’em, he waves his hands, and it’s been like this since.”

“I still don’t get it,” says Barkeep.

Liam downs his drink.  “I tell him I don’t want to be rich, but every time I need money, I’d find what I need in me pocket,” he says.

“Ach!  Smart! But the critters?”

“I got a wee bit careless, lad.  I told him I wanted a chick with long legs and a tight pussy.  Hit us again.”

See you Thursday.

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8 Responses to There Has to Be a Morning After

  1. Ms Calabaza says:

    ‘Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!’

  2. *Rim Shot* says:

    Its good I showed up after THAT crappy joke.

    Ms. Calabaza: I pasted that into Google and learned it means “God created Guinness to save the world from Irishmen.”

  3. Ms Calabaza says:

    Hey thanks for that translation Rim Shot! I thought it just meant Happy St. Pat’s Day but I like your version better.

  4. Mark Skid says:

    When did the Wiggle Room re-open? Last I saw the place got busted for obvious political reasons and was “closed for renovations for about 6 months.

  5. Ba-da-Boom says:

    The bar I went to last night had some Belgian beer (“Asshat” or something) on tap they were pushing. It was served with a quarter orange. An orange! WTF? I got outta there fast before it spoiled my taste for, well, real beer.

    Of course I drank the beer first. I aint stoopid.

  6. Ortho Stice says:

    Belgian beer is for people who don’t like beer and want it to taste like something else, like fruit punch or wine. Grossly overrated, it’s also overpriced. IMHO. Yesterday I treated myself to half a dozen Harps and enjoyed every one down to the very last drop.

  7. Old Timer says:

    Yeah yeah. “Well then, I’d like a little head.” We know all about it.

  8. Bud Nation says:

    After the first few brews you really can’t tell what kind of beer you’re drinking anyway. besides, it all ends up in the same porcelain podium.

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