RazzyBlog: Daily Douchebag: Cinco de Mayo

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Daily Douchebag: Cinco de Mayo

Name: Cinco de Mayo

DOB: May 5, 1862

Occupation: causing severe hangovers on school days

Hometown: Puebla, Mexico

Current residence: everywhere EXCEPT Mexico

Douchebaggery: I have previously gone off about St. Patrick's Day and why I think it's stupid, because it's amateur night for alcoholics. At the risk of incurring the wrath of the pseudo-Mexicans as I incurred the wrath of the pseudo-Irish for that post, I feel the same way about Cinco de Mayo. I was planning on celebrating with a pizza and an episode of "The Hills" in the comfort of my apartment, happy to be away from all the fucktards in sombreros who need to pretend to be Mexican in order to get blasted on a Monday night. However, I got an e-mail around 6-ish from CorporateCard asking if I wanted to go celebrate "Drinko de Mayo." Initially I demurred, thinking I'd stay at lab for a while longer. Then I realized that to finish up what I was doing, I'd be at lab three hours longer. At the same time, Twathopper Gchatted me to see if I wanted to have a drink and hear more of her sexless lesbian drama. I figured I shouldn't fight the inevitable. I told both ladies I was headed for the subway.

Following my buddy HotLawyer's old adage that you should go to a Mexican place on St. Patrick's Day and an Irish bar on Cinco de Mayo to avoid all the incompetent drunks that these holidays draw out, I suggested we meet at a place called McAleer's on the Upper West Side. Trying halfheartedly to get into the spirit, they both ordered awful Irish pub margaritas. I had a scotch. If I had been smart, I would have cut myself off after the singular drink I pledged to have. I am not smart, however, so we decided to order a bucket of Coronas. Then another bucket of Coronas. And then another. Then JerseyGirl showed up, and that called for another few buckets of cerveza. By the time we left, we were muy borracha. The other ladies decided to go to yet another Irish bar, P.D. O'Hurley's, a place that has been my utter ruin on several past Monday nights. I wisely elected to go home and spend time with my dogs.

Anyway, for these reasons, I'm not feeling like doing much of anything besides whining about how hung over I am from spending five hours last night quelling alcoholic Mexican piss and a few subpar nachos at an Irish bar. Chinga tu madre, Cinco de Mayo.

Labels: alcoholism, CorporateCard, Daily Douchebag, excuses, JerseyGirl, Twathopper