Link to Printable Version of Checklist

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Start day with traditional Irish fry, Start drinking in the AM, Wear green, Go to an Irish pub, Drink a GuinnPRINTess, Pretend you know all the words to a Celtic song, Say the phrase: “Kiss me, I’m (Irish/shitfaced)”, Jig, Drink a McDonald’s Shamrock Shake, Witness someone fall down, Attempt an Irish Accent, Drink Bushmills, Put O’ in front of your last name, Watch at least 12 seconds of futbol, Drunk dial/text someone, Spill beer on yourself
Spill beer on someone else, Wear a festive hat, pin or tattoo, Find ugly server/bartender attractive, Witness someone throwing up, Make a new friend, Forget new friend’s name, Make-out with new friend,Hear a rant about how someone hates Guinness, Claim THIS is your last drink more than once, Throw up McDonald’s Shamrock Shake,Participate in the walk of shame, St. Patrick’s Day, St. Patty’s Day

When I saw you sitting across the coffeehouse, slurping an iced coffee,  I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Had we met before, in this life or another?

Your jeans were so tight right down to the ankles, and your bright white shoes were high-topped and untied, but it wasn’t your jeans and shoes that entranced me.  No, it was your face. There was something about your face that held my gaze.

If your face were on the back of a shampoo bottle I’d never bring a magazine into the bathroom.

You wore Beats By Dr. Dre on top of your Justin Bieber-esque haircut. The music pulsing from your headphones sounded like an orchestra of cartoon laser guns and high speed wall-kicking. A hunched over elderly woman tapped you on the shoulder, pointed at your headphones and gestured for you to turn down the volume. You smiled an all gum smile that even a horse would shudder at, and shook your head no and shooed her away. For me, the music faded into the background. Your face. Your face is all I wanted to look at. I couldn’t understand what drew me in, and until I did, I could not, would not look away.

If your face was on the front of a box of kids cereal, I’d never do the maze on the back.

My heart raced as I stared at you. My hands shook eagerly. I wanted to cry and laugh and scream all at the same time. Your face, I could frame it and hang it in my living room. Guests would see it and say, Hmm. They too, wouldn’t be able to look away. I’d ask why they were mesmerized by your face in the hopes they could solve the mystery. I suspect they could not.

You took a bite of a whoopie pie and chomped on it like a dog eating peanut butter. You wiped a bit of the cream filling from your face with your hand and then smeared it on the chair next to you even though there was a napkin sitting on the table. The server saw this and mouthed, What the fuck, and stared at your face. At that moment I understood why I couldn’t stop staring at your face…

I wanted to punch it. Oh so badly. I wanted to slingshot my fist right into your stupid mouth and send you sprawling to the floor. Once I broke the ice others would lineup to follow my lead. Hand shakes and high fives would commence as everyone participated in and enjoyed a parade of punches right into your goddamn stupid, stupid face.

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I have to tell guys this every year: Valentine’s Day isn’t about you. You don’t like Valentine’s Day? Tough titties. If you like or love your woman, you’ll get off your lazy ass and do something. Anything. Remember when you were single on Valentine’s Day and you would think, boy I wish I had a special girl to touch to me in my dark and hairy area? Well, you do now. Don’t eff it up.

Valentine’s Day Ideas

Girls don’t need hot air balloon rides or the timely release of doves on Valentine’s Day. Classics like dinner and movie work well or you can attempt some more original Valentine’s Day ideas like taking cooking or dancing lessons, going to a shooting range, anal, rock climbing or even visiting a couple online casinos. The idea is to do something together. That’s it. Here’s a checklist to guarantee a good Valentine’s Day:

Are you there?………………………………..[ ] YES     [ ] NO (If NO, you’ve failed)

Is she there?…………………………………..[ ] YES     [ ] NO (If NO, you’ve failed)

Are you doing something together?.…....[ ] YES     [ ] NO (If NO, you’ve failed)

If you’re lacking a reason as to why you should do anything for Valentine’s Day, besides the obvious reason of making your lady happy, here are some selfish reasons you should consider.

1. Other guys are being romantic and making you look like an asshole. Girls talk. Whether it’s via phone/text/email or just a quick status update on Facebook, your girl is hearing about the loving gestures her friends are getting from their men and these gestures are making you look like a douchebag. This will probably just put you in the doghouse for a couple of days but there is always a chance it may lead to your wife leaving you for her yoga instructor who you assumed was gay. Guess what, he’s not. Just ask your wife’s vagina. Oh right, you’re no longer on speaking terms.

FACT: In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, your past V-Day record has been put on trial, judged, and sentenced by your girl and her friends. Because of this, your lady’s friends are no longer fans of yours and may already be sizing up potential replacements.

ALSO: If you care, stop being a jerkface.

2. Being romantic acts as repellant to guys trying to move in on your territory. I said this before and I’ll say it again, someone else wants your girlfriend. Don Juan is constantly looking for flaws and weak points in your relationship barrier so he can penetrate that barrier and eventually penetrate your girlfriend. For every slip-up you do, Don Juan will exploit your error in order to make you look worse and him look better. When you do something romantic, your girl will share this info with others and strengthen the barrier, essentially repelling Don Juan towards an easier, more vulnerable target, like your sister.

FACT: Sending flowers to your lady’s place of work is essentially equal to walking into her office, dropping trou, and hosing down the place. Territory marked.

ALSO: It makes her feel like a rock star.

3. Girls have a long memory when it comes to you screwing up. As much as you think you’re able to mop up your annual Valentine’s massacre, you’ve actually left a fair bit of blood and guts on the walls. One day your lady is going to come to you with a spleen in her hand and say, “Remember this?” Future you will hate present you for your complete lack of foresight. Heck, he may even kick you in the balls for it. When you ignore Valentine’s Day, you’re gambling with your relationship and if you’re going to gamble, you’re better off gambling on sports or casino games, because at least then you have a better chance of winning.

FACT: Do the right thing, because you’ll never live down the wrong thing.

ALSO: Doing the right thing is a pretty crucial aspect to a good relationship.

4. Your life will be better for it. Obviously pleasing your woman is secondary to you, but if you’re good to her, she’ll return the favor. Don’t you hate when your girlfriend or wife complains about stupid shit? Well, half the stupid shit she complains about is based on stupid shit you’ve been shoveling her over the years. Stop shovelling.

In Conclusion…You should be romantic because it makes her happy, but if that isn’t motivating enough, see above.

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As we tripped on Monday and stumbled our way uphill over Tuesday, we reached the hump that is Wednesday and, dammit, we earned the right to sit back, bask in the sunshine, smile and say, “It’s all downhill from here.” With the weekend fast approaching and that dreaded Monday in our rearview mirror we can finally begin thinking of, first, a reason to drink a little bit of alcohol and then, second, what alcohol we’d like to imbibe.  A weekly ritual that never seems to grow old, but as we grow old the ritual often becomes surrounded with more busy work and trivial happenings as adulthood slowly drowns our livelihood in a pot of lukewarm coffee and ulcer causing stomach acid. Geez, now I really need a beer.

I swore I wouldn’t be working for the weekend, and yet here I am, fingers grudgingly typing emails and dialing telephones while the sun shines outside and people sip cold beer on patios, then laugh, and talk about how late they slept in this morning. Did we all think we could overcome the societal pressures and live our dream life or was that just me?  How come I’m not traipsing across a beach outside my ocean-side residence, retired before my 30s? When did RRSPs,  stock options and interest rates start mattering? Is acceptance of an ordinary life the next step in growing up? Is it time to throw in the towel? Something tells me it is.

Kidding. I will constantly try, sometimes harder than others, to live the life I’ve always wanted to live and if I get even close, great, if not at least I tried, and that’s gotta count for something, right? So here’s to keeping our dreams alive even if, in the end, they are just dreams. We need them. They keep us active, motivated and excited for what tomorrow has to offer, even if what you do tomorrow turns out to be watching reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond. At least you were excited about it.

Oddly enough, just now I got email confirmation that I’ve been accepted to the school of my dreams. Life is looking up. Now this is a fist pumping moment.

Commandeered the beard. Rewind two-years ago. After conquering Europe with a pack strapped to my back I realized I accomplished something more amazing than I ever thought I would or could.  Climbing the steps of the Eiffel Tower? Seeing the Sistine Chapel? Touching the remnants of the Berlin wall? No, no, and no. This was something much greater. A friend and I made a pact not to shave for the duration of the trip. A pact that made us men. Real men. The result, for me, was one incredibly patchy, yet beautiful beard. My friend and I? Well, our friendship, like our beards, grew by leaps and bounds by sharing in one of men’s greatest and oldest traditions. The growing of beards.

Jeered the beard. Insulting a beard is like insulting a man’s penis size. It challenges their manhood. With this in mind, some never attempt to grow a beard in fear his manhood will be challenged.

Feared the beard. Fear of failure and inadequacy can make our decisions for us.  Fear of not being able to grow an adequate beard is no different. But we never know unless we try. This is a fear we must overcome to reach our manliness potential.

Appeared the beard. Fast forward to one month ago, when I put down my razor and decided it was time to climb that hairy mountain again (no, I’m not talking about dating your mom). It was time to grow a beard. This time, I was going solo. I needed to learn more about myself and go through the trials and tribulations of beardness on my own. Over the course of this month long journey I’ve realized that unless you’re on a deserted island, you never go through the beard growing process on your own.

Cheered the beard. People  everywhere have been supporting and sponsoring my beard through its weakest stages. Morning meetings at work unexpectedly turned into a forum for the discussion of beards. Men shared their beard experiences with me over a cold beer and hot wings. Together we analyzed the strong and weak points of my beard and where it has been filling in nicely. Whenever I contemplated shaving, someone would tell me how beautifully it was coming along. If I could knit a sweater from my beard to thank everyone who helped me, I would.

Revered the beard. On the streets, and out in the city, I’ve been appreciating the beards of others. Hoping one day my beard could be as strong as theirs.

Persevered the beard. So please join me in wishing my beard a happy 1-month beard-day, and wishing my beard and I a happy beard-iversary.

Sheared the beard? Where this relationship will end I don’t know and like any good fling, sometimes it’s best not to ask. When the time comes, I’ll know. We’ll know (my beard and me). But in the meantime, I know we won’t be alone. We’ll have each other.

Premiered the beard. I have no pictures of my beard today, but I’ll get some. Maybe we can compare it to my Europe beard and see if this one is better. Maybe that’s not fair to this beard though. Either way, it looks like my beard and I will be busy together all weekend.

Pioneered the beard. Did you ever wonder why wise men usually have beards? Grow a beard and you’ll find out. Did you ever wonder why people who have their heart broken, lose their jobs, or are homeless grow beards? It’s because when you have a beard you’re never alone. Never. You always have a friend giving you a big warm, fuzzy hug.

From my beard and I to you, happy Friday.

I turned on my MP3 player this morning and set it to random. The first song it picked, Thank God it’s Monday, by NOFX. I’m not a big believer in fate unless it has positive connotations. It’s just another way to keep me smiling when most people aren’t. Therefore, today is going to be a good one. Please, don’t shit on my parade.

If you hate Mondays, you hate 1/7th of every week of your life. That’s over 14% of your working life that you’re going to hate just because you’ve made up your mind that Mondays suck. Why not make Mondays not suck?

Today I’d like you to step back and enjoy what you have in life. Forget the crappiness that can hover over your head like a storm cloud (especially on Mondays) and focus on those special people, moments, and passions in your life that make you happy. There’s a good chance we’re not going to get everything we want in life, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t appreciate those things which we’ve already checked off on our life’s to-do list.

For those with a focus on financial success, remember people who already have financial success are not problem free. Mo’ money, mo’ problems. Career success is not found in a large salary, it’s found in doing something you truly love. If you can find financial success doing what you love, keep on truckin’.

For those looking for the right partner, keep at it. For everyone you see who is with the right person, there are twice as many with the wrong. Embrace your independence, stay confident and you’ll meet the Ms. or Mr. right.

Take chances. I’m begging you to try new things. Life can be really vanilla if you don’t open yourself up to new experiences. Travel, try new foods, meet new people, and soak up the experience along the way. So many of you have made your minds up on things you haven’t tried. When faced with a new experience, ask yourself, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” and, “What’s the best thing that can happen?” Maximize the potential for greatness rather than ensuring the mediocrity of the familiar. I know there’s free salad and bread, but try eating somewhere else besides East Side Mario’s.

Do what you love, if possible as a career, if not, as a hobby, and you’ll find life much more enjoyable. If you love to make art, paint. If you love to play sports, play. If you love to make music, make music. If you love to write, write. Don’t worry about whether it’s going to make you money or not and don’t worry if you’re good at it or not. It doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re doing something you love and the satisfaction of that will leak into other aspects of your life. I promise.

Give your loved ones a hug, enjoy the sunrise or sunset, and explore your passions. Most importantly, be careful not to get stuck in a rut. Don’t wait for someone else to change your fortunes, do it yourself.

If you want to live, live.

So when I say crotch punching I don’t mean punching someone in the nuts or in the box. That’s not cool. Ever. Clear?

Ok, so next time you’re passing through a turnstile, as your crotch punches the turnstile into motion, I want you to think of just how many groins and genitals have nudged the turnstile into rotation. Millions? Billions? That’s a lot of crotch power. There aren’t many things we jab with our crotches besides other people’s crotches, and maybe other people’s cabooses (if that’s what you’re into and if your partner will let you), so one should really appreciate it when it happens.

I dub today International Crotch Power Day, AKA ICP Day, not to be confused with Insane Clown Posse Day. Them, you can punch in the nuts.

Well, what are you waiting for? Go and lend your crotch to a good cause.

Enjoy your weekend.

Now that jeans are acceptable at most of the choosier restaurants and clubs, providing they’re accompanied with something relatively dressy such as a blazer and or tie, there’s no reason not to wear jeans all the time. Want some more reasons? Sure you do.

Jeans are the ninjas of pants. If you wear leather pants, cords, shorts, or khakis day after day, people will notice. They’ll say, “Hey, there goes Larry Leather Pants.” or “Oh Corrina Corduroy wears her cords all week long. Thinks she’s soooo cool.”  Not to say there isn’t a time or place for these pants, but wearing them every day? Don’t be stupid. The jean, however, slips seamlessly (NPI) into everyday life. No one even notices. Heck, I’ve been wearing the same jeans for 3 months and no one has said a thing. Note: exceptions include: jeans that are too tight, too short, not blue, or have ridiculous designs on them. These can be worn, but not every day.

Jeans help you figure out what job is right for you. If your job doesn’t let you wear jeans, I think it’s pretty clear you should look for another job. Large salary, company car, great benefits: all these things are worthless if you can’t work comfortably in jeans. Who are they to tell me what kind of pants to wear? That’s pantism, which in some circles is as bad as racism. Look at your legs right now, if they’re not draped in jeans and you’re at work, stand up and leave. Now.

Jeans are casual and professional. Jeans can do it all. How many pants are as versatile as jeans? Jogging pants can’t be professional. Yoga pants? Not unless you’re teaching yoga. Jeans and a T-shirt = Ya, you’re cool. Jeans and a blazer = Oooh, business savvy, rawr!

Jeans are durable. In a pant fight, jeans would beat the hell out of most pants. I saw a recent fight where jeans took on capri pants. It ended with the jeans crapping lint all over the capris. Don’t believe me? Fuck you.

Jeans unite the world. City folk and country bumpkins don’t have a lot in common, but jeans bring them together and act as a wonderful ice breaker. I’m not sure how many women I hooked up with in Alabama using a good jean pickup line. People from all walks of life wear jeans. Rich people, poor people and everyone in between. How many poor people do you see wearing Armani slacks? Do you think jeans favor one race over another? Hells no. Jeans are equal opportunity pants and act as an example not only to all pants, but to all people.

So if you want to be a ninja working in the right profession who is both casual and professional, durable, not elitist or racist you should wear some jeans and at the same time, try to be more like jeans.

Jeans. They’re not only pants, they’re role models too. Might I suggest you send this post to non-jeaners to show them what they’re missing? Perhaps you should send it to jeaners too, remind them they’re doing the right thing. Jeantastic!

At least once in your life, most likely after watching a vampire flick or a movie involving a fountain of youth, you will ask yourself and your friends what the ideal age is. What age would you like to remain forever?

Popular answers are usually in the 20s and that’s understandable. Our 20s are when we’re young and vital. Our physical peak. Before the wrinkles, sagging, and the gut your wife says is cute or your husband says you don’t have (they’re lying). Some might say early 20s, but I’m not sure people will take someone so fresh faced seriously. I’m thinking more mid to late 20s.

I think I’ve figured out my ideal age. You see, every so often I decide to try to grow a beard. I’m not horrible at it, but I’m no Abe Lincoln (oddly, that’s the first bearded guy that comes to mind). Let’s just say my beard is a little patchy in spots. A few puzzle pieces are missing. I see myself in the mirror and think, until I can fill in those voids, my life is incomplete. But every time I try to grow it, it’s a little less patchy than the time before. So I decided yesterday, the age I’d like to stay forever is the age when I can grow a full and beautiful beard. My life will be nearly complete. It’s on my life’s to-do list right after writing a bestselling novel.

For those of you who could grow a full beard by the age of 12, what do we call you, oh yes, Italians, your ideal age might be a little harder to figure out. Maybe the age before your back hair got out of hand. I kid, I kid. I’m just jealous of your full beard.

For those men who can’t grow a beard and will never be able to (i.e. lesser men), at least you don’t have to shave everyday. That’s a plus isn’t it, champ?

For women, it’s much more difficult and probably not shaving related. Unless it was when you could properly shave a lightning bolt into your … Nevermind.

So my question to you is: what would your ideal age be and why?

Ever wake up after a night of drinking more shots than a group of sailors on shore leave and say, “Holy shit, I feel mutha fukkin good today!”?

So have I. Here are some of the reasons why this might happen.

Reason #1
The unlikely reason, but the first most people assume, is by some amazing miracle, you were the best drinker ever and managed to survive a rough night hangover free. Wishful thinking my friend.

Reason #2
You drank a lot, but either fell asleep early or slept for 12 or more hours. Sleep is the best hangover killer. If you fall asleep before midnight, you increase your chances to be hangover free by quite a bit.  If you can sleep for 12 or more hours you’ll find yourself feeling exponentially better than when you woke up at 6am to take a 4 minute piss.

Reason #3
You are a liar.

Some people love to insist they never get hangovers. There’s a 99.999% chance they’re full of shit and are probably trying to impress their friends by showing them what an amazing drinker they are. Sure, some people don’t puke (they black out) and others get less hungover or have the ability to get hungover less often, but to say you never, under any circumstances, get hangovers is bullshit.

Or

Some people don’t like to admit they got drunk. They’re the friend that always says, “I’m not drunk, just a little tipsy.” Because they don’t like to admit they’re drunk, they’ll certainly never admit being hungover.

Reason #4
You don’t know what being hungover means. Being hungover does not necessarily mean you spend the day in bed barfing into a bucket or setting up shop beside the john, it could simply be a mild headache, or all over fatigue. If you feel less than %100 as a result of drinking, you’re hungover. Some hangovers are mild, and some are extreme. Not all hangovers are created equal.

Reason #5
You’ve been hungover so many consecutive days you don’t even know what not being hungover feels like anymore. Get some help, I think you’re an alcoholic.

Reason #6
The delayed hangover. Let me explain. When you wake up after drinking so much and you feel A-OK, it’s most likely because you’re still drunk. You might not feel drunk, but you are. And because you’re still drunk you’re numbed from the pain alcohol loves to inflict on your body to punish you for having a good time. However, when the effects of the alcohol fades (the time is dependent on how much you drank and how long ago you had your last drink), the hangover commences. Thus, the delayed hangover. Ever wonder why you spend your Sundays watching movies on the Superstation (TBS, Peachtree TV, that station that plays Atlanta Braves baseball)? It’s because in the end, you were a little hungover.

When you wake up, there is no real way to know if you are just lucky or if the delayed hangover is on its way, but you can take some precautionary measures. Drink water, nap, eat some food, or if you dare, you can start drinking again.

You probably shouldn’t drive though.

Did I miss anything?