St. Patricks Day

So it's been a while since I've written anything, in the main due to the fact that not a lot has happened lately. Well, stuff has happened, just nothing that's worth writing about here; "Wake up, have shower, goto lecture, fight off monster and eat dinner". As you can see, it's all pretty normal, boring, monotonous day-t0-day type stuff. But now I do have something to write about, except the only snag is I can't really write about it since I don't remember most of it. But that hasn't stopped me in the past, so welcome to:

Gary's St. Paddy's Day booze-up and pissery

As I seem to recall the day got off to a lazy start - infact the way I choose to start most (all) of my days. After sleeping through my alarm at 8am (despite being very lazy, I nonetheless remain optimistic about the kind of time I expect to get up in the mornings), I am awoken by my second alarm, and since my second alarm is the timer on my TV, I am awoken to the rather creepy piece of programming known as CBeebies. Turns out I'd set the wrong channel on the TV, and I had effectively wasted half an hour watching some woman read out birthdays whilst thinking that the quality of televised news had declined somewhat of late. Realising my error I switch of the TV and go back to bed.

By the time lunchtime comes around I wake up for real, this time woken by by third and most effective alarm - my stomach demadning food. After a quick and invigorataing shower (read: tripping over into the shower and then falling asleep in it), I realise that I have lectures and things. Putting the demands of my stomach on hold for the time being, I wander down to the lecture theatre where I get to hear about... prohibition in 1920s America. It's only bloody St. Patricks Day and you're telling us about why some weirdos in the '20s though alcohol was a bad thing? What a way to bring the day down. Luckily I wasn't phased, so after returning home for luncheon the day of drinking began.

We arrived at the the Union building at 3pm. Pubs around here shut at 2am, so we had approximately 11 hours to drink through as much guiness as we could. Now I'm not usually a big guiness drinker, but after being told you get a free hat and badges if you buy 4 pints of guiness I went up and ordered 4 pints at once. So did Sam. So did Jake. The sight of all those pints of guiness on the table was something almost magical. Sadly I only manage 3 of my pints since by the time I'm done the 4th one had gone a bit funny looking. And plus we were all rather hungry so we headed off in the driection of Wetherspoons.

After a brief stumble down the hill we arrive at our destination; the Yr Hen Orsaf, or alternatively, Wetherspoons. Deciding my stomach could use some light relief from the guiness earlier, I promptly down 2 pints of Magners Irish cider. My dizziness factor increases exponentialy. After a biref bite to eat, Jake leaves us and me and Sam decide to trek over to The Fountain to get some Murphy's. A very dizzy half a pint (don't look at me like that, this stuff is expensive you know) later and we were in a taxi heading home.

Except that the evening wasn't finished there. It was only 11, and we had tickets for Flirt (an event at the Union, where I can only assume the object of which is to flirt with people - my object was drinking, however) so that is where things begin to get really hazy. I remember ordering 2 double Jamesons (Irish Whiskey) and deciding to save time and pour them into the same glass. Quadrouple whiskeys are the way forward, let me tell you. I had at least another one of them, and then a double after that. Needless to say the combination of alcohol and strobe lighting effects played havoc upon my brain, which had pretty much given up the ghost for the day. The next thing I remember is lieing on the floor in the kitchen of the flat above whilst laughing my head of and people telling me to be quiet. And then someone poured a jug of water over me so I decided it was bed time.

And that was how my St. Patricks day progressed. I woke up this morning feeling fine, with no signs of a hangover. This can only mean that I haven't actually sobered up yet, so whilst I wait for the innevitable to kick in, here's a picture of me last night with my hat.