I'm not gonna lie. I'm scared shitless that I wont have the drinking endurance to make it through today. I dont know what to say really. 3 hours to the biggest drinking day of my life all comes down to today. Either my friends and I come together as a team or we're gonna crumble. Beer by beer, shot by shot until we're finished. We're gonna be in hell today gentlemen. And we could stay home like a bunch of pussys on spring break and be bored as fuck or we can drink our faces off in Beantown one ounce at a time. Now I can't do this alone. I'm too old. I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make. I once funneled 9 beers in 45 minutes and I puked my brains out. I didn't go to a big time college till I was 28. and lately its tough for me to drink more than 2 and a half Budlight limes on Friday night and stay awake pass 9pm. When you get old in life you realize drinking endurance gets taken away from ya. I mean thats part of life. You find out drinking is this game of ounce's. One ounce to quick to soon you puke your brains out. Once ounce to slow to sluggish and the average girl still looks busted. The Onces we need are every where around us. In this Town on this day we fight for that ounce. On this day we tare ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that ounce. We claw with our fingernails for that ounce. because we know, when we add up all those ounces thats gonna make the fuckin difference between drunk and sober. Between being a pussy or being a true Bostonian. I'll tell ya this, in any big day in Boston its the guy who's willing to die for that ounce. And I know if I'm gonna have any life anymore its because I'm willing to fight and die for that ounce. Because thats what drinking is. The 12 ounces in front of your face! Either we drink as a team or we will puke and pass out as individuals. That's St. Patrick's day gentlemen, thats all it is. Now... what are you gonna do?
