See Jill. See Jill drink AGAIN…

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Happy almost St. Patrick’s Day. Aka Amateur Day. AKA Palegurl’s FAVORITE lady-drunk, Jill’s day to shine! Like only she can.

This is Jill. See Jill drink until she throws up onto her parent’s carpet.

If you don’t remember Jill’s St. Patty’s Day escapades from last year, feel free to  scroll down and find her story.

This year Jill plans to party harder than she’s ever partied before. Actually she has been pre-gaming since Monday. Her drink of choice this year – Everclear and Diet Peach Snapple. This drink guarantee’s Jill will get so crunked, she won’t feel a thing. A thing.

I recently spoke with a clearly intoxicated Jill at 8 am this morning  about her plans for this, her most sacred week of the year.  Enjoy!

Palegurl:  So what’s on the agenda for this week?

Jill: Well, I feel like I’m a canary because I really like Tigers, but they don’t like me – ya know? (she briefly passes out) Do you want to see my cesarean scar?

Palegurl: You have a kid?

Jill: Doi. Like of course. I  wanted to be a mom since 5th grade. In 7th grade, my dream came true and I had a baby girl. But I gave her to my parents.  It’s not like I didn’t want her, but I already had to take care of my cat, Bubble Farter. And my parents have a pool. (Jill stares at me as if she has forgoten who I am) Do you know Dirtball Devin?

Palegurl: Can’t say I do.

Jill (squeals): You don’t know Dirtball Devin!?! She’s like my partner in shots. She can take like a bar full of shots and still not pass out while hooking up with dudes at after-parties in Tempe. (Spits on my lips as she whispers to me – almost touching my face) Sshh…like don’t tell her I’m telling you, but she told me her number.

Palegurl: Number of guys she’s been with?

Jill: Duh! What other number is there, bitch?

Palegurl: Quite a few.

Jill: Sshh. Her number is 269. Can you believe it? 69! It’s like fate.

Palegurl: I’m sure you’re close.

Jill: Totally. How old are you? Like 48?

Palegurl: I’m 31.

Jill: Dude!?! Do you have grandkids n shit?

Palegurl: No. I don’t even have kids.

Jill: Oh…I get it. It’s supes dupes late for you. You’re that thing…like you’re too dry to give life.

Palegurl: Sure. So where are you headed this year on St. Patty’s Day?

Jill: Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere with a bar and maybe a bull cuz that’s like authentic to Irish people and stuff. You should totally come with and show your tits. Sometimes I ride bulls at bars with a random  girl. We do it reverse cow-girl. After that so many  guys lift up our skirts. Last year it got so annoying so we just took them off.

Palegurl: That sounds fun for you.

Jill: Yeah. I’m sure we’ll be on Mill Avenue. But if any of those greasy, dreaded no homes people try to touch me before I get drunk, I’ll yell fire and then throw my cig on them. But like, I’m not a total bitch. After Midnight, I’ll give them some play. EXCEPT for that girl with the 3 teeth and the pit bull. I have standards n shit. 4 teeth and a Yorkie is one thing, but she’s like gag me with a meth pipe gross.

Jill changes into just a bikini top and makes me touch her cesarean scar and then brush her hair.

Jill: No, dumbass! You’re doing it wrong! You gotta rat the top of my hair  and then straighten my bangs and then spray the shit out of it. What are you from like the year 2000?

Palegurl: Yes.

Jill is now on her 9th glass of Everclear and Diet Peach Snapple.

Jill: Don’t you feel bad for fat people?

Palegurl: Um…

Jill: It’s like they are there, but no one wants bang them. That’s like a tragedom.

Palegurl: Do you mean a tragedy?

Jill: Show me your tits! Come on. You’re boresville to the max!

Palegurl: I would, but I’m pre-maturely lactating and I’d hate for it to squirt out into your eye and make you go blind.

Jill: Colorblind? Ewwwww.

Jill sits legs crossed on the carpet of her living room and pukes on the floor.

Jill: Oopsie. It just fell out.

Jill tries to clean it up with her hand.

Jill: Can you hand me that box of wine?

Palegurl: Maybe you should just chill for a second.

Jill: No way. Whenever I puke I know, it’s time for White Zin!

Palegurl: Are you celebrating with anyone this year?

Jill: Well, I was going to go with Moranica, Liberty and Kennedy. I work with them at Souper Salad, but it’s like they are supes jealous of me and can’t even fit into extra small dresses at Ross. I just don’t know if I can fly with that mess.  I really try to stick  to my morals.

Palegurl: Interesting.

Jill: If I don’t go with anyone, I’ll just probably get up on some bar and shake my ass until I get sleepy.  Someone is bound to pick me up off the floor.

See Jill celebrate St. Patty’s Day from 3/3/11-Easter Sunday, which is the day Jill refers to as God’s turn to get drunk.

This is how I found Jill ten minutes after our interview.

Jills “friend” Liberty was yelling at her: “Get up skank! You didn’t finish  your Irish Car Bomb.”

Jill’s “friend” Moranica:

I’m like so Jager-depressed.

Has anyone seen my eyeball?

Dear God, It’s me Moranica. Can you please make sure the urine I left in this corner of the bar disappears? If you help me today, I’ll never let another one of my boyfriends talk me into a six-some.

Jill:

Oh. My. God. This is my buttplug brother’s skeez of a GF. Aren’t her mint Uggs like super gross and stuff? Look at her knees – they’re so grody.

I mean, who barfs in a bathroom?

Jill:

This is just what I do before I drive home.

I’m fine. I can drive. I just need to shut my eyes for a second.

Who stole half the halter from my top?

The cement feels so good on my black-eye.

Tongue kiss me with your friends – I’m 47 and my kids live with their dad and his new wife.

Jill’s sister Jocelyn:

I’m too skinny to go to jail! I got this outfit at Baby Gap.

My sister is driving home with her feet, but I’m getting arrested!?

Random Dude Jill hooked up with Tuesday night:

This St. Patrick’s Day, I’m just looking for a chick who’s willing to close her eyes during sex.

Happy Amateur Black-Out Day to all those who prescribe to the religion of green beer and waking up in bodily fluids.

God Bless!

 

See Jill. See Jill drink.

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St. Patrick’s Day is my friend Jill’s favorite day of the year. She loves it so much she’d take that day off of work – if she had a job. Luckily, her parents pay for her tuition and send her money so she can eat (occasionally), drink (regularly) and hook up (daily). Here is her St. Patrick’s Day 2010 story.

The world is a comedic playground when Jill is drinking.

Jill was awoken at 6:30 am on March 17, 2010 to the sound of her friend Cammy banging on her bedroom door. “Get up bitch. It’s time to get f*cked up,” Cammy screamed. Jill wiped the 4-day-old mascara from her eyes and welcomed her favorite day of the year, St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll shower tomorrow Jill thought to herself as she got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a cranberry juice and vodka breakfast.

 “We got like 9 dudes meeting us at the bar in 20 minutes so hurry up,” Cammy told Jill while applying her 9th coat of eyeliner. Jill rolled her eyes and took a long pull from a plastic bottle of Karkov vodka. “Hold up. I want to finish this bottle and smoke a cig before we go.” Cammy ignored Jill and adjusted her white ultra low-rise mini, mini skirt in the mirror.

 “Is that my skirt?” Jill asked. “No, it’s a strapless bra I turned into a skirt. Are you jealous,” Cammy smiled. “Yes! OMG! I can’t see shit anymore since I swallowed my contacts the other night. It totally looks like my skirt.” Jill slammed the last of her vodka and headed off to get ready for the day.

The bar was a sea of green and drunk. Random squeals, screams and chants could be heard throughout the day. Instead of wearing a bra and a shirt like most women do when in public, Jill painted what looked to be a belly shirt on her chest that read: Feck Me.

 “Clothes make me sweat,” she told the random girls in the bar who walked past her calling her names like skeezer, skank and hoeface.

Jill’s 2010 St. Patrick’s Day was unlike any she’s had before. Jill drank Irish car bombs, green beer and shots of tequila throughout the afternoon and into the evening. It was a day of self-reflection and self-discovery.

“I can totally fit my whole ass in the urinal,” she bragged to a group of roofie enthusiasts in white baseball caps who promised her two strands of green beads for every time she lifted up her skirt.

“How come every guy I go home with never calls me the next day? It’s not like I’m ugly or old,” Jill confided in Cammy around 4 pm.

“I’ve realized that my hair looks better if I only wash it once a week,” Jill shared with Cammy at 6 pm.

“I believe that there are bars in heaven where you can play beer pong and do bodyshots off your best friends,” Jill told the restroom attendant while she cleaned up Jill’s vomit at 8 pm.

And during the brief periods that Jill could stand that day, she spent them dancing and requesting that the  DJ play Ke$sha’s “Tik Tok” song.

“Play I brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack NOW,” she screamed into the 20-year-old part-time DJ/aspiring rapper/ full-time dishwasher’s gauged ears. “We just did five minutes ago, you idiot,” the DJ pointed out.

Nothing seemed to faze Jill this day. That is until she locked eyes with her arch-nemesis, Morgan..with a K.

“What’s that fat bitch doing here,” she whispered to Cammy in what most sober people would define as shouting.

Korgan (pronounced Morgan) and Jill were not only once friends, but roommates. Unfortunately, they had a falling out freshman year when Jill accused Korgan of stealing her favorite Victoria’s Secret Pink brand sweat pants.

“Give me my Pink sweatpants back, Korgan! You know they’re too small for you!” Jill wrote on the dry-erase board outside of their shared dorm room.

Korgan vehemently denied any pants stealing and replaced Jill’s dry-erase message with her own: “Jill cuts the tags out of her pants, but we all know she’s really a size 6 – fatty!”

Until St. Patrick’s Day 2010, the two girls had not spoken face-to-face since before those hateful dry-erase messages were exchanged.

Korgan gave Jill the death stare as she walked up to her on the dance floor. “I smell something extra skanky,” Korgan pointed out to a friend as she passed by Jill.

“Keep walking hoebag. We need your ass to leave so we can free up some space on the dance floor,” Jill shouted as Korgan continued walking.

Luckily, that was the ladies only encounter. Both felt St. Patrick’s Day to be too sacred a day to waste it on fighting. “I refuse to let that sweatpant-stealing hoochie ruin my holiday,” Jill told the restroom attendant as she cleaned up Jill’s vomit around 9 pm.

By 10 pm Jill was lying across two bar stools with her head in a random guy’s lap. She would rise every ten minutes to yell in Cammy’s direction, “Cammy! I wanna go home!”

Cammy ignored Jill and continued to dance with her friend’s boyfriends. Luckily for Cammy, these guys freed up once her too intoxicated friends were forced to call it an early night. Cammy prided herself in the ability to drink her girlfriends under the table.  However, once Cammy got so drunk that she fell onto a table and Jill was discovered sleeping by a bouncer, they were both asked to leave. On the way out the girl’s grabbed parting gifts in the form of two random guys strategically standing by the exit. Jill and Cammy each grabbed one by the hand without looking at their faces and out the door they went.

The foursome set their sights on Taco Bell, which pleased Jill who was repeatedly shouting in the cab, “I love sour cream!”

After Taco Bell, Jill insisted the cab driver find a place for her to get waxed.

“I need a Brazilian. Find me a Brazilian lady with hot wax!”

The cab driver assured Jill that every beauty salon/spa would be closed at Midnight. After crying for a brief period over her stubbled lady parts, she conceded.

“How bout tanning? Can you take me tanning?” Jill asked the cab driver.

“Dude, tanning isn’t going to be open. Just go twice tomorrow,” Cammy pointed out.

Soon the foursome retired to Jill’s apartment where the girls paired off  into separate rooms with their new Romeos to pass out. In the morning they were awoken to find their “hotties” consisted of one 40-year-old married dude and a guy with no teeth. Apparently meth wreaks havoc in your mouth and dentures are expensive.

Regardless of their bad judgement, the girls said goodbye to their new friends and agreed that what they could remember of  St. Patrick’s Day 2010 would live on in their hearts and livers forever.

St. Patrick’s Day 2010 you say?

 No, this is just Jill on a normal Tuesday. Long Islands and Taco Bell make her sleepy.

She’s so pretty!

St. Patrick’s Day Faux Pas!

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Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day – the most drunken time of the year besides Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, 4th of July, Valentine’s Day,  Veteran’s Day and Thursday-Sundays. Whatever you do, please don’t get caught participating in any of these Patty’s Day Faux Pas.

1. If while out partying on St. Patty’s Day, you piss your pants, own up to it early. Then head over to everyone’s favorite non-union establishment – Wal-Mart and pick up something with an elastic waistband. DON’T shove your crotch under a bathroom hand-dryer and hope for the best because 1. Dry pee smells. AND 2. You could break a hip trying to manuever under that contraption.

 2. Green barf does not mean you are more Irish than the person sitting/lying/passed out on the bar stool next to you. Keep it in your gullet. Only amateurs barf…in public.

3. Sex with a Ginger is totally acceptable and expected on St. Patrick’s Day. Don’t miss this wonderful opportunity to see red on the head and red in the bed.

4. Accessorizing with green scarves/hats on St. Patty’s Day says: “I know very little about the Irish and may only have a junior high diploma, but I like to drink and smile.” Accessorizing with green feather boas and undergarments says: “I will show little to no discretion for what type or how many people I sleep with today. I will wake up in the morning and blame the Guinness or file charges without ever taking a good, long look in the mirror in order to find out why I use every ‘holiday’ as an excuse to punish my genitals.”

5. Kids like St. Patty’s Day too! Don’t leave them home alone or with someone you just met outside of Walgreen’s. Instead, bring them along, but make sure you attach them to one of those kid leashes and tie that to a tree or hot guy/girl you’re trying to get with. Also, make sure the leash is green so your kid looks festive!

6. DON’T celebrate with your spouse/significant other. This will only make it harder for you to cheat on him or her. Party alone and meet up later when you are too drunk, sweaty and annoying for anyone else to touch you.

7. When you drop your cell phone in the restroom toilet/urinal (AND YOU WILL), there is a 6 second rule. Digging for it longer than that is just uncivilized.

8. If you feel like beating someone up on St. Patty’s Day, punch yourself in the face instead.

9. Don’t be that annoying guy/gal screaming into a blow horn about how everyone should expose body parts, “get so wasted,” or die. If you see someone doing this, gently tase them and then destroy their blow horn. This should do the trick.

10. Quit pretending you like or know anything about Flogging Molly. Yes there are some real fans out there…approximately 15, but everyone else is just a holiday opportunist who is trying to up his or her Patty’s Day street cred and no one’s buying it.

11. St. Patrick’s Day is not the time for serious conversations. Your friends are not yet ready to find out about your strange conspiracy theories:

1. Sonic tater tots cause sterility in white males.

2. The Earth is really Mars and BabyRuths are better than Snickers.

3. Aliens paid George Bush trillions of dollars to “act dumb” for 8 years.

4. ARod and Derek Jeter are the same juiced up, man-whoring person.

5. There exists a planet of  women who like to go downtown. Doubtful.

12. THE ONLY appropriate people to drunk dial on St. Patty’s Day are the following:

1. Your first grade teacher. It’s time you tell that b*tch why she shouldn’t have held you back 3 times. “You think you’re so special cuz you can read. I know karate and wouldn’t not be afraid to use it.”

2. Your kids. It’s time they know once and for all why you don’t have custody. “It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that my new boyfriend/girlfriend and booze are more important to me. You’ll understand when you’re older and doing the same thing to your unwanted kids.”

3. Obama. “Heeyy…OHBummer. What the eff are you doing? Why is my life still messed up? I thought you were a magical  unicorn fairy man-wizard who would make cigarettes healthy and cure childhood obesity. You suck! I’m glad I don’t vote!”

Stacey says: “I party with children because adults find me lame and kids can’t tell that these presents are from the dollar store.”

What they’re really thinking: “First chance I get, I’m stabbing her over a dude.”

St. Patrick’s Day is the only holiday where fat, old and festive = DOABLE.

Don’t be Tardy for the Party!

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We Midwesterners are all over the place. No longer do we only graze and live solely on flat lands near large bodies of water that freeze solid in the winter months. We are also transplants in many cities across the nation.  Since we from the Midwest are popping up all over the country, it is important that others take note of our likes, dislikes and how we operate. Why, you might ask? Well, because we are a charming people who when you meet us, you’ll immediately be drawn to us. You’ll instantly feel an incredibly strong urge to call us your BFF. Therefore, it is important for you (the non Midwesterner or former Midwesterner who’s forgotten his or her roots) to know what makes us tick and what makes us want to BFF you right back.

Here are some TIPS to getting a Midwesterner to attend YOUR PARTY (Believe me. These work!):

1. When sending out a party invitation to someone who once lived or currently lives in the Midwest, instead of referring to your party as a cocktail party or soiree. Rename your party any of the following:
a. Booya
b. State Fair
c. VFW
d. Garage Sale
e. Winter Carnival
f. St. Patrick’s Day
g. The Cabin

h. and our favorite of all…the BEER BUST! What’s a beer bust you might ask? We don’t know. Essentially it’s just another excuse to get faded off cheap beer.
Any of these are sure to bring all the Midwest peeps to your shindig.

2. Serve the following crockpot foods at your party:
a. Cocktail weenies swimming in some kind of bbq sauce.
b. Hotdish with a full layer of cheese baked on top of it.
c. Chili
d. Meatballs – In the Midwest we have a deep attraction to meat and balls.
e. Some kind of dip that includes sour cream, bacon, sour kraut
and cream cheese.
Non crockpot foods that are also acceptable: a veggie tray with mainly the “candy” veggies like cucumbers and baby carrots with a bucket full of ranch on the side; MEAT (as long as it doesn’t have the words veggie or turkey in front of it – ie turkey burgers); Doritos (Cool Ranch is a Midwest favorite); cheese curds or any deep fried delight; and any type of Casserole (again don’t be stingy on the cheese and/or sour cream).

3. Don’t just set your party’s dress code as “casual.” Instead, be very specific. Examples of what people in the Midwest enjoy wearing to parties:
a. pajama and/or fat pants (must have drawstring).
b. hooded sweatshirts
c. ball caps to either hide the static in our winter hair or show off our love of hunting/fishing/ or our C-League recreational/beer drinking softball team.
d. Carhartts
e. Sweatshirts and/or sweaters with puff paint.
f. Our old high school sports/team jerseys. Midwesterners are hella sentimental.

4. Don’t waste your money on fancy air fresheners and candles. Instead, spray a little deer piss around the party and the inner-hunter in us goes crazy.

5. Don’t go worrying about making a fire in your fire place to create ambiance. Midwesterners far prefer burning shit in the middle of the backyard (bonfire-style). Some of our favorite things to watch burn are: patio furniture, beer cans and the neighbor’s trampoline (we in the Midwest are good at holding secret jealous grudges).

6. Don’t brag about your fancy imported beer or wine selection at the party. People from the Midwest find this pathetic and quite douchilicious. Instead, serve canned beer (preferably a light or local light brew) with can koozies. Anything less would be uncivilized.

7. Let us bring our dogs. Most likely we like our dogs more than we like you so we’ll appreciate you allowing us to invite our real best friend(s).

8. If possible (weather permitting), throw your party on a pontoon or water trampoline. Nothing makes a Midwesterner want to be your friend more than when you have one or (in a perfect world) both of these things.

9. Let us watch your cable. Not that we don’t have our own cable television, but maybe you have a channel we don’t and if so, it will be impossible for us not to find the nearest recliner (with built in cup holders – you better have one of these) and watch television until the beer runs out or we fall asleep.

10. Sell pull tabs at your party. Pull tabs serve as a way to gamble away our paychecks and exercise (pulling those tabs is our cardio workout for the week).

11. Have the party in your basement. Basements are special to Midwesterners, they are the place where they get loaded and take cover when serious weather hits. Make sure you have built your own basement bar where we can sit back, relax and look at all the neon beer signs while you fix us drinks. If you don’t have a basement (Arizonans know what I’m talking about), just remember – if you build it, Midwesterners will come.

And there you have it. These tips/tricks will make your party #1 in the eyes of any good Midwesterner.