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?
Jill is now on her 9th glass of Everclear and Diet Peach Snapple.
Jill: Don’t you feel bad for fat people?
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.
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.
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?
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.