The Best St. Patrick's Day Jokes 2019 Edition

They say write about what you know. I mostly write about drinking. Hell, half the time, I drink while I'm writing. So when a muse like St. Patrick's Day wanders along, you get to work. Which I what I did.

Is this stereotypical enough for everybody?

Plus, timely posts like these are a great way to generate cheap hits. Get ready to snort your Tullamores and shit yer knickers, it's time for...

The best St.Patrick's jokes for 2019

I’m chasing brain cells like St Patrick chasing snakes

I am not wearing green underwear, but they might be tonight after all this green beer. I mean, take your pick at this point; front or back

"Ugh, couldn't hold in that rum and Mountain Dew." (This is called foreshadowing.)

Any of you ladies need a drunken mistake? I’m available (8s and higher only please)

I’ve planned ahead and changed my Uber name to Drunk N Apologetic

Tonight, is my favorite night of boxing. There’s nothing on TV, I’m talking about all the Irish bars

Can someone please tell me what a “jarro” is and why there is whiskey in it?

8 AM every Wednesday morning in County Cork.

The good news: I found a place that is dead and the beer is good

The bad news: there is one drunken, boorish, loud, ugly asshole here that’s ruining it for everyone.

The reality: I am drinking by myself.

Dad?

Guys, a brief moment of silence for Lori Loughlin’s kids who won’t be celebrating St Patrick’s Day on campus this year.

Stupid celebrities doing stupid things for their stupid kids.

I have a blender, Lucky Charms, Jamison and ice and I am not afraid to use them.

This bar I’m at is pretty cool. They even have green beer and small paper cups in the bathroom. Harsh drink, but it’s minty enough to cover my breath. 6/10.

Amazon Prime needs some sort of “Drunken Purchase Protection” option because I will be lighting that shit up later on tonight.

My baby picture.

Does Grub Hub deliver to an Uber? Guess I’m gonna find out.

Whew! Finally broke the seal. I mean, as far as proper toilets go.

On a day of diminishing expectations, guys like me can really clean up.

Shit. I have vastly under rated fishing.

Bartender; what are you drinking?

Me; Floaters.

Any of you ladies need a lil’ Irish in ya? I’m available. (8 and higher only please. Twitter needs that filter)

Well, I guess it’ll be rum and Mountain Dew for me today. (Foreshadowing!)

So, apparently green lipstick is my new fetish. Which is so much easier than my old one of blonde Peruvians with Swahili accents who can play pirate shanties on harpsichords of ivory.  

I have too many leprechaun jokes to use here.

This means Lucky Charms are 50% off tomorrow, right?

Hey, can all you runners knock it off this weekend? (Yea, I know this technically isn’t a St Pat’s joke, but I have a real problem with these do gooders trying to be all healthy when I’m bent on self destruction.)

FFFFUUUCKKKKKK YOU

Googles nearest Tilted Kilt: 31 miles away. Twin Peaks: doesn't even come up. Sigh…Hooters; 21 miles away

No, really, leave the head thing on. I'm cool with it.

Me drinking green beer like

Strike one; wearing Notre Dame shirt (What’s the name of the leprechaun?)

Strike two; playing U2 (Name me anyone else in the band besides Bono)

Nope. Wrong guy, doesn't count.

Strike three; orders Ultra

Get that Ultra shit outta here!

I really appreciate me a girl who can look hot with green hair.

Anyone know where Connor McGregor is planning on getting arrested today?

I will never get drunk enough to appreciate Irish dancing, but I’m still not one to back down from a challenge.

"Oh, great, Irish dancing!" Said no non breeder EVER.

I don’t know what the differences are between “potatoes” and “Irish potatoes,”, but I imagine it’s much more fun to hang out with the Irish potatoes. I know that’s the deal with Irish coffee.

JC, I lost my keys an hour ago and I keep praying to St Patrick to find the damn thing…What’s that? He’s not the patron saint of lost shit? Well, who is it then? St. Francis!? Does he get a drinking holiday?

(Bet y’all didn’t see a St Francis joke coming today.)

Fireball + Jamison = Flamison. You're welcome world!

Soon.

Any of you ladies need some regrets from tonight? I am available. (7s and higher only please. It’s getting later and I’m lowering my standards too)

Heads up, because of leap year, next year, St. Patrick's falls on a Tuesday. So we need to come up with an excuse to get hammered on a Monday. I mean, a better excuse than the usuals.

Someone Called Me Good Looking Today

You wanna play a game? I wanna play a game. 

"My good man, where is the rotgut rum?"

As I was walking into a place, a woman was walking out. She took a look at me, did a quick inhale then said, “Man, aren’t you good looking?”

Where was I walking to?

   Supermarket

b         Gym

c         Liquor store

Do you really even need a minute to figure this one out?  The liquor store. Of course it was the liquor store. The same damn liquor store that serves me no matter how banged the fuck up I am.

So, there I was, like the rest of us schmucks. Yet another winter storm was coming in, and like the rest of suburbia, I have to have enough booze to mollify myself for a night. I was walking in as a woman was walking out. Now, I would like to say this was a 22 year old super model walking out, but the truth is it was an older woman. That point doesn’t bother me because, because the real take away here is someone found me attractive.

What I get when I GIS "22 year old hot model."

Does the point bother me that this was at a liquor store where they notoriously serve any drunk ass that stumbles in? No, because this woman was clearly sober. I don’t care who finds me attractive. She could have been blind with a cane and a service dog, and I would be equally as stoked she said it. This hot mess ain’t got no room to be picky.

To this random woman, thank you. Thank you for making my day, and just giving me that little extra boost of confidence that a lonely night of drinking can’t quite provide. Readers, take note, just one act of kindness, one slight push of karma can make a difference. Also, take note that good things really can happen at the liquor store. Maybe not to your liver, but certainly to your ego.

#VoteForKev2020; Campaign Slogans

Look, I don’t get very political on my social media. Many of you do, and that’s fine. It seems most of my social media streams have been political, especially after this Trump press conference (Which I did not watch. But I saw enough headlines ferreted around all the articles, I’m pretty sure I got a firm grasp.) I can’t imagine you will ever get much political thought from me; and honestly, my ‘talent’ and style is everything to drag you away from the real world for a few paragraphs and hopefully a few laughs. Does anyone remember laughter? Seeing all the angst on the socials tonight was like a big ol’ Bat signal that we all needed to have a brief laugh amidst all this rancor.

No, not this kind of Rancor, the other angrier, non Star Wars kind of rancor.

A few months ago, at the end of one of my blogs you all read and thought hilarious but never freaking bothered to tell me, I floated the hash tag #VoteForKev2020. So, while I was showering tonight, I got a great idea for a quick and dirty blog that can lighten the mood of America for just a brief moment. And, yes, most of my great ideas come to me in the bathroom.

Anywhoo, if I do decide to formally launch a candidacy for President, I guess there would be some forms or something I’d have to fill out at the library or post office. But what good is filling out a form if I don’t at least have some catchy campaign slogans? That’s like more than half the battle, right? So here’s what I’ve come up with to sway all the yahoos in the swing states.

Someone who can unite both parties in their common disdain of me.

I can’t do any worse. Like, literally, I can’t do any worse.

I am pretty sure I can make a federal holiday each out of man crush Monday and woman crush Wednesday.

#WCW is also hump day. probably not a coincidence. 

I can’t golf.

Surrounded by people who will actually know what they’re doing.

They call him….The Unfucker.

Keeper of promises. A real promise keeper. But not like those creepy Promise Keepers. A promise keeper in a not creepy way.

Better hair for a better America.

He has a dog!

Identifies with the youth of America. Especially the college girls.

Patriots. Also, #WCW

A race fan, but not a racist.

Another reason to hate Jr.

He pretty much hates everyone equally.

Knows how to handle the North Korea problem because he saw The Interview. Twice.

Something, something, both sides, both sides.

Has no problem showing you his emails, though they are mostly about penis enlargement.

Will release his tax records. As well as his debut calypso record!

Easily the best man for the job. Especially if his opponent is another broad.

He was the President of the Queensryche fan club, so he’s pretty sure he can run America.

If you can find a better candidate, then you should probably vote for them, you Commie pinko bastard.

Promises to open up Area 51.

Has no skeletons in his closet, but a few beneath his parents’ basement.

Bravely instituting an idiot tax.

Once won an argument with a woman.

He’s the man for our times. Or at least the next 4 years.

Supports single moms, ifyaknowwhatImean.

You knew what I meant.

Never murdered anyone.

Protecting America from the Bobadook.

Alt music, not alt right/left.

A master debater.

I’m with him.

A drinker like the rest of us.

Go ahead and judge, but this is the demographic that will get me into the Oval Office.

His parents would vote for him.

Ignorance of international affairs = fresh eyes and new ideas.

The Cure for Idiocy.

You don’t learn if you don’t make mistakes. He’s hungry to learn.

Putting the rum in decorum.

The Things I Am Too Chickenshit To Say on Facebook

I admit, I’ve been checking out on Facebook recently. For a lot of reasons. Life is more than looking at your phone. (Wow, that sounds philosophical coming from a twit like me.) I’ve just found myself generally getting annoyed and wasting vast amounts of time. I know I’ve missed a lot of birthdays, and I really don’t care if people miss mine. Which just happens to be this month, BTW. My theory is if you don’t have a present for me, just don’t say anything at all, it’s cool.

So as I lurked through FB recently, one of the reasons why I have been ditching it became apparent; a lot of my FB friends have become annoying. And someone needs to say something.

Ugh, this shit again.

Now, I have no problem speaking my mind, as my five longtime readers of this here blog are well aware of. But the thing about the written word is it can be taken so many different ways. At times it’s become a cop out. It has become so much easier to text people on the phone than actually use the damn phone for it’s original intent and talk to someone.

Hey! This is my secret, too!

I now see it as my duty to help straighten some of you guys out. However, the truth hurts. This week I’ve been going through Post Secret: Confessions on Life, Death and God. (If you are not familiar with the Post Secret website, do yourself a favor.)
It became clear to me the best way to call youze out on some of your shit without all the resulting butthurt is to do it anonymously. Remember, I am only doing this out of love. Or spite. OK, mostly spite. Finally, a post all about YOU!

Your children are ugly. Maybe your friends don’t want to tell you, but it’s apparent. So how about less pictures, eh?

Your boobs are great, and I wish you would show them off more.

No one cares what movie you are watching.

You can post all the hippy trippy, karma, new age-y, Buddha, Hindu and Dalai Lama quotes, pictures and memes you want. I see through that bullshit and know you’re still the same judgmental cocksucker you always have been.

You’re pro Trump. WE GET IT!

You’re anti Trump. WE GET IT!

You're a winner!

I admire that you are so socially and politically aware. But, GD, I really do miss your funny posts.

I would totally bang your wife.

And yours.

And your girlfriend.

And yours.

Is your full time job just posting vapid shit on Facebook 20 times a day? Because that’s all you seem to do.

You don’t have to take every survey you see. No one cares what 70’s sitcom character you are.

I dropped you from my feed. The only reason I haven’t unfriended you is because when I am feeling down about myself, I lurk your page and think, “Thank God, I am not this flaming dipshit.” Thank you for making me feel better about myself, friend. (And I know I can’t be the only one that hangs on to some FB friends like this, right?)

No, I will NOT play freaking Candy Crush Saga with you, so knock it off with the requests.

I had the BIGGEST crush on you in high school, but I never had the balls to tell you.

I think you’re not on FB very much because you do a real good job of just going out and living your life.

The entertainment value in your self indulgent, proselytizing posts is only surpassed by your constant misspelling of common words.

Dude, not everything is a conspiracy theory, OK?

Or is that just what I want you to think?

You’re way too old to be posting shitty pop music lyrics. It’s getting kinda creepy now.

I think some of your best one liners are copied from someone else, and as a “writer” it pisses me off you don’t give them the credit.

Every time you post a picture, I get an alert and I don’t know how to make it stop.

“Oh, look, another picture of the wing from inside the plane.”

Posting pictures of an unknown beer in an unmarked glass has been deemed lame.

No more than three hashtags in a single post is the agreed upon limit. Look it up.

A picture of a plate of food serves no purpose. Just because you’re not eating at Red Robin for a change doesn’t make a damn of difference.

And BTW, checking in from Red Robin is gauche.

You are too old to be taking selfies in public bathrooms.

Can I just designate only one of you to post the Trump bits from SNL?

Your love for shitty 90s rock bands is getting more embarrassing.

I know what you did last summer.

Boobs.

All this so called “drama” you proclaim to be so against is all of your own making, bonehead.

You claim to be “family first” but I know for a fact, you never have been. And more and more people are seeing that, too.

Just because I don’t update my status every 17 seconds for the latest cause de celebre, doesn’t mean I am a bad person. It just means I am spending time in the real world and don’t have time to read your constant nonsense.

Facebook is not your PR firm, so knock it off.

Why in bloody hell do you keep watching a show that makes you cry? How is that even fun?

If you're "checking in" at the gym, just a FYI this doesn't count as "working out."

God, this is worse than Crossfit.

You really are gullible, aren't you?

I guess I have to bring this up again, but God is not on Facebook. 

I feel like there could be more. There probably is more. But I hear the pizza guy at the door and someone has to eat the two pizzas and wings I ordered.

The Best Super Bowl 51 Jokes

Wait a minute, your night ain't over, Champ. Sure, The Big Game is over, but the jokes aren't. Instead of posting all these beauts on social media, and them getting lost, I put 'em all here! In one place! So grab that Gatorade. Since I believe your recollection of the game to be "foggy at best" after all those beers, wings, nachos, poppers and secret shots you swiped from your hosts' liquor cabinet. I even have these chronologically, so it's like watching the Game all over again with your funniest, sharpest, smartest friend!  And here we go!

"I got the 0 and 0 block in the pool! Woot woot!"

PREGAME

Y’all should be protesting Budwesier because it’s a shitty beer is all I’m sayin’.

That's actually going IN to his mouth.

Instead of plowing down nachos and wings at every commercial break, I’ll be doing 10 pushups and 10 burpees. (This is how #AlternateFacts works, right?)

At halftime, the Patriots are leading and somehow the Browns are losing.

Hate on Joe Buck all you want, he could be worse. He could say, “Any now let’s got to Tony Siragusa.

"They're really hitting hard down here, guys."

The conspiracy theorist in me suspects the Super Bowl is just a front for the chicken wing barons.

Hmm, Eli Manning is at the game. Tom Brady seem mumbling, "ohhh shittt" under his breath.

I wonder if Tom Brady wore his "recovery sleepwear" last night? A true steal at a hundred frigging dollars!?! I don't think I could sleep if I knew I blew a Franklin on a shirt that was supposed to help me sleep in the first place. And why in the blue hell would you want to sleep next to freaking Giselle Bundchen??

"You spent how much on what??"

I appreciate that Spike is countering the Super Bowl with an all night marathon of Cops, then Jail. They just might as well do live shows from Boston and Atlanta tonight.

I wish Ving Rhames would narrate a day at my job.

Let's take a live look into what Buffalo fans are doing...

Aw, snap! You crazy Buffalo kids never change.

I don't know who Luke Bryan is, but I'm gonna hazard a guess he is everything that is wrong with country music and that's the first time he's sung without wearing a nasty ass old ball cap.

Is there any big budget movie where the world DOESN'T get blown up?

George Bush flipping a coin to make a decision is probably not the first President to do so.

FIRST QUARTER

Seeing as how I won a Fantasy league this year, I can imagine what these guys are feeling right now.

I am pretty sure that fly by was taped earlier. How would you know? 

Natty Ice better have some back end deal with Matt Ryan if he wins.

Maybe if they put as much work into commercials the rest of the year, they would sell more products?

Pretty sure today is Day 3 of a four day weekend in Atlanta and Boston.

Anyone else believe Arnold Schwa...Swart....Arnold has never played Mobile Strike in his life?

That's Julian Edelman's wife. No joke here. That's his wife.

0-0 at the end of one. BORING! Is there a hockey game on? I am sure all the Canadian teams are playing against each other.

SECOND QUARTER

Justin Bieber and Terrel Owens should not be on the same commercial together. I would think there's some sort of rule about how much "suck" can be in one commercial.

Freeman is the first player to score a TD. His jersey number? 24. That's some shrewd cross promotion there, Fox.

How late am I staying up tonight?

That is not the first time a good strip had lead to a solid score, ifyaknowwhatImean.

This game has been so bad, I'm actually peeing when Brady has the ball.Thank god this Dorito bag is empty.

After three holding penalties in a row, they really just call the next 3rd down "third and a hold."

Atlanta runs back a pick 6. Brady seen throwing a flag he had hidden in his jersey, looking for another holding call.

Did I miss the memo that said, "No funny commercials" this year. WTF? I can't do all the heavy lifting here.

"My eyes are up here."

This is apparently Danny Amendola's girlfriend. No wonder he usually has good hands.

At the end of the half it's Atl 21 NE 3. I wonder if that's the same score at the White House.

At the half, somehow the Browns are losing, too.

HALFTIME

Read my Gaga review. I swear, I don't know with the kids and their music these days. I guess Whitesnake and Marilyn Manson are passe these days. And I would damn sure check the field. A certain team could hide certain items to adjust the pressure of certain things in a certain way. But I can't be certain.

THIRD QUARTER

Sexy Mr. Clean will haunt my dreams tonight. What happened to the sickeningly skinny girls eating the calorie bomb Carl's Jr burgers for some eye bleach?

That's what I'm talkin' about. Quick trivia about these commercials; apparently there are hamburgers in them! I will have to watch again.

Atlanta scores another 7. It's not 28-3. Boston is ready to burn, Fox is ready to start 24 early.

Somewhere in a Kansas City Cracker Barrel, Andy Reid is going, "I like Belichick's play calling here."

Speaking of, Eagles fans are so desperate for a championship, they are now claiming Matt Ryan since he was born near Philly. No, dipshits, that's not how it works.

It only takes 43 minutes for the Patriots to score. AAANNDDDD Gost misses the kick.

Suddenly, Ryan's helmet stops working, he's sacked on the very next play. Hmmm....

FOURTH QUARTER

This game is just not good. It's not exciting, it's quite boring and the commercials suck. I guess this is what it's like to watch the World Series.

Pretty sure it was Dan Quinn who out Belichicked Belichick by flying Eli in first class.

Eli Manning; New York Giants Walter Payton Man of The Year recipient.

Eli Manning: Atlanta Falcons Walton Payton Man of The Year recipient.

8:24 to go and Atlanta turns it over for the first time in the playoffs. Brady sacked on following play. Drunks in Boston and Atlanta start to brown back in now. Amendola scores, Pats direct snap the two point conversion. We have a game, world still hates Pats fans, sky is blue, water is wet.

If I'm Dan Quinn (the Atlanta coach, please tell me you know that by now), I'm telling Ryan (you know who he is, right?) audible "OMAHA!" every play. Even runs.

Here is where the game will be won. If Atlanta plays to win, they will win. If they play to not lose, they will lose.

3:30 to go, Pats with the ball, down by 8. 2 plays and no flags against the Falcons. Pats convert the following 3rd and 10. The amounts of people calling out of work in Atlanta and Boston sky rockets.

Edelman makes awesome catch to keep drive alive. Anti Pats fans-you know, like everybody- groans like they've been here before.

This-no

This- yes

A million times, yes. And, oh yea, Patriots score, blah blah blah. Tie ball game.

The Atl back up QB bears a more than passing resemblance to Eli Manning.

And this is the first OT Super Bowl game. I'm glad I don't have any money on this game. Because I lost it all on the Puppy Bowl.

The heartbreak one team will suffer will only be made worse by the inevitable, hilarious memes that will soon follow.

The Saddest Place During Christmas; The Mall

Whoever said this is the “happ-happiest time of the year” is a liar. A filthy, dirty liar. Well, the blog subtitle is “Saying what needs to be said” and this needs to be said.

So why am I writing a post like this at this time of the year? 1) Because it needs to be expressed and 2) did you really expect anything less of me on Xmas week? This isn’t some fantastical Hallmark Channel movie, kids.

 And really, this is the result of a visit to one of the saddest places on the face of the Earth; the Mall. 

Santa went to the Taco Bell, kids. He'll be back Thursday.

OK, I will frame this by saying it’s Tuesday, December 20^th, about noon. So if you’re at the mall, it’s either on your lunch break or you had to eat a personal day to (start and) finish your shopping. (Or you’re unemployed, but no one cares about the jobless on Xmas.) As I enter the mall (which I haven’t been into in ages), one thing is bloody apparent; no one is smiling. Not one shopper. Not one retail employee. Not. One. Whatever Disneyland is purportedly to happiness, the American Mall Xmas week is the exact same for unhappiness. 

"This...is...bullshit."

It conflicts with my laid back, almost surfer-like attitude. I don’t deal well with the “hustle and bustle.” I don’t like dealing with crowds. It’s just a lot of work for negligible return on investment. All this shopping, hustling and bustling, and Xmas just goes by. I’m left holding some new socks, a full belly and sick of everyone.

So where was I? The mall, right. Apparently, this mall has one of the last remaining Sears in existence. I enter through Sears, where I see a healthy amount of shoppers, and almost zero employees. From here, I enter the mall itself. Where there also appears to be a healthy amount of shoppers, I don’t really know how to tell. And like I said, no one is happy. There’s even jackoffs wearing Santa hats that are unhappy. I’m at the mall because I have to buy a girlie calendar for my brother.

Like, I can't even tell what month this is. But I'm not really complaining.

 It’s tradition that we buy each other girlie calendars. I’m pretty sure the Currier and Ives mentioned in “Sleigh Ride” were actually early nudie photographers. The more you know, right?

Right.

I enter on the first floor because that’s where the store I needed to go to used to be. Last year. Since then, it has seen fit to further my rage with the mall during the holidays by moving ALL THE WAY to the third floor. Bloody hell. Since I have some walking to do, I decide to put myself squarely in the river of holiday shoppers to see what I discern. Maybe I am missing something here. Maybe I have been wrong all these years, and I just need some time to see the true beauty of the holida…..

Nope, no, fuck it. I see people clearly spent. I see grown men wandering around like they are zombies. I see young children running about loose. Their parents probably just leave and let the mall work that problem out.

"Mommy said to stay."

I walk by the court where Santa and Mrs. Claus are. Does Mrs. Claus have a first name? Doris? Phyllis? Beyonce? I don’t know, so we’ll just call her Mrs. C. (On an unrelated note, I used to have a teacher we called Mrs. C, but her last name certainly wasn’t Claus ifyaknowwhatImean.) The Claus’ are true pros; they are smiling and seem genuinely happy. I imagine it’s because they roofied each other at the start of their shift, and they know in less than a week they’re vacationing in the Keys. I wind my way around to the escalators to get to the third floor. As I get to the third floor, I am shocked about how you never hear of any jumpers in this mall. I can’t imagine there are many three story malls left these days. And this is certainly the time of year for that sort of thing. I wonder if ‘mall security’ is trained to even spot potential jumpers. I mean, I was openly sobbing like a widow for a good twenty minutes, and no one ever checked on me. I compose myself and walk past the Bath and Bodyworks store. I see about half a dozen husbands just staring down at the first floor. The mall might want to move this store down to the first floor, just sayin'.

"This....is...bullshit."

Like an assassin, I was in and out. And I wish I was an assassin, because I could have used a firearm in the parking lot. While it wasn’t overly crowded, drivers were still finding creative ways to be assholes. Parking, not using turn signals, not looking when they pulled out in traffic. I think the best thing most people can get for Xmas is a freaking clue.

So I had escaped the saddest place during Christmas. I feel lucky, for all I know, there could be folks that just get trapped there and never leave; doomed to never find where they parked their car or desperately trying to redeem their mall bonus points for something at Orange Julius. I can rest easy; for the half naked girl on my calendar says I don’t have to go back for another year.