*title to be said at loud volume, in your best Beavis voice*
yesterday was International Talk Like a Pirate Day
I went to a Pirate bar–really more of a sports bar with a half-baked pirate theme–to celebrate. I go to this bar more often than I’d like to admit, for sporting events my paltry basic cable doesn’t cover or to watch my roommate eat ‘food’ while I watch. Like a car-wreck, this food is, so gristly and nasty i can’t look away, but i cringe as homeslice eats sysco-runny omlettes at 9 pm.
on the far side of the bar is a strange box with overturned bottles sticking out of it. It’s a liquor dispenser, unattactively designed to look edgy and dangerous–the liquor is called ‘tattoo.’ Said box was not installed for ITLAPD, it’s been there for a while, and many of my friends have witnessed me make errant promises like
‘if the red sox make the playoffs this year, i’ll drink that vile looking shit at the end of the bar.’
or
‘one of these days i’m going to be drunk enough to try that bile’
First of all, ITLAPD is not a holiday, but, like St. Patrick’s Day, we celebrate the long lost memory of a culture that unabashadly worshipped alcohol like we contemporary, shameful drinkers wish we still could. There’s no better day to test the limits of your liver and kidneys. I bit the bullet, or ‘walked that plank’ on ITLAPD.
“Hey Barkeep”
“Yarrrrr?”
“pour me a spot of that vile bilge water that be at the end of the bar”
“Yarrr.”
“This smells like blue slushie!”
“Yarrr!”
“I think i’m going to regret this”
“Yarrrrr.”
“Okay, no more fiddling. Down the Hatch”
“Yarrr!!”
this stuff tasted like death, like bilgewater from the Valdez.
“Barkeep! This shit is awful!”
“Yarrr!!”
“I’m going to walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.”
“yarrr…”
“Certainly demonstrates the flexibility of the word”
“yarrrr.”
to add insult to injury, I found myself reading Rachel Ray’s “I’m rich beeeyyotch” column this morning. “And I will rain down vengence upon thee…”
