March 20, 2012

Trivia Blog: Limerick Rolled

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

And we look back as the sounds of Flogging Molly fade away…


Hopefully your St. Patty’s Day hangovers have all subsided well enough to make it out to our fine Trivia Night, which (shameless self-promotion in 3… 2… 1…) MyCityWay recently said is “largely considered the most popular bar trivia night in NYC.”  So good job, trivia goers, you’re all popular and stuff!  Just like high school.  For most of you.  Some of you.  But I digress.


Now that St. Patrick’s Day, that great holiday of American excess wrapped in a shroud of Irish heritage, has passed; now that green food coloring sales have dipped back down to their normal, slightly depressing numbers; now that the vomit on our fair sidewalks has dried enough to chip away in the breeze; now that all of the non-Irish pubs have removed the O’ from the front of their signs; now that binge drinking is again considered a “health risk”; now that my beard no longer makes me look like a caricature; let’s take a moment to look back on some of the unique, lovable characters we met along the way who made St. Patty’s Day so special, in traditional Irish limerick format:


They seem drunk before the day even begins
These Missy’s and Stacy’s and Megan’s
But what would we do
Without the girls who scream “Wooo!”
And fall like the Wall in Berlin


I see you refuse to wear green
Because “conformity isn’t your scene”
The Irish you won’t smooch
‘Cus you’re just a big douche
Who won’t even dress up for Halloween


You’ve been aggro and angry all night
To a big happy crowd, you’re a blight
You have little courtesy
And you’re probably from Jersey
‘Cus all you want to do is fight


At first you’d just drink and frolic
But now you appear melancholic
You’ve puked in the plants
And pissed in your pants
You, sir, might be an alcoholic

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