I’m not a huge fan of St. Patrick’s Day. Or maybe I’m just not a fan of holidays. But St. Patrick’s Day specifically is one of my least favorites. With Christmas and Thanksgiving, it’s implied that you might travel to go see your family. So if you don’t end up traveling, it’s justifiable to go to the movie theatre by yourself and see Wicked or A Complete Unknown after sneaking in a Sausage McMuffin with a hash brown and two ketchup packets. Theoretically.
But on St. Patrick’s day, there’s a social obligation to have drinking plans, or else you seem like you have no friends. Which makes me want to double down on both the not drinking and the not having friends. At least with the 4th of July, there’s a higher expectation around activities. People seek out fireworks and desperately try to find a friend of a friend of a friend who has a boat. St. Patrick’s Day is kind of like a vacation is Nashville, in the sense that every bar will offer you the same experience. Green beer. Corned beef and cabbage. Contracted teams of 8-year old Irish dancers performing for 40-year old divorced men.
I often wonder what percentage of people who go to the bar are actually enjoying it. Because to me most people are there for one of, or a combination of, these two reasons: trying to meet someone, or distracting themselves from the stress and monotony of their every day life.
“Looking to add fulfillment to your dull, dull life? Then become part of the greatest musical sensation ever to hit Bikini Bottom partake in St. Patrick’s Day.” I’m titling this post after this scene btw.
I myself prefer a combination of the two above-mentioned reasons, but more-so lean towards the first since I’ve written off Hinge in Minnesota. Some people just perform better out in the field and on the frontlines. For example, I’ve made the recent discovery that a Harley Davidson jacket I thrifted from Poshmark has the power to make a bartender attempt to flag me down for discounted drinks (though unsuccessful). And then, later on, tell me the story of how he tried to flag me down because he remembered my coat. Haven’t really continued experimenting with the jacket, but full disclaimer it might only work on divorced men over 40. Which ironically might make it the perfect St. Patrick’s Day fit. It’s a shame I will not be making an appearance.
If you need me this SPD weekend, I’m going to an 11am showing of some Robert Pattinson and Mark Ruffalo space movie. And speaking of Mark Ruffalo, no one ever talks about the fact that in 13 Going on 30, Jennifer Garner wakes up married to (and I’m quoting the movie here) the New York Ranger with the hottest ass. Like, you’re not even gonna go to MSG for free ONE TIME before you start having a full-on existential crisis? Okay.
siftyproductions.com 