There be so many stories about me revels on this most glorious holy day, but today also be me sexiversary, and in honor of this, I decided to tell ye the tale of how I became a man.

It was St. Patrick’s Day (may he rest in peace) the year I turned 11, and let me tell you, I was sloshed. I had had about 7 Guinesses, plus a bottle of Jameson, and I didn’t hold me liquor as well back then, so I was feelin’ it. Anywho, I was wanderin the streets, takin’ part in the festivities me hometown had, when I mistakenly wandered into a rather unsavory whorehouse that I thought was the town toystore/bar. That’s when I stumbled upon an unsatisfied “lady-of-the-night”. I don’t remember her name, or what she looked like. Anyways, I couldn’t just leave the poor hooker to be, so I strangled the sailor she was with usin’ only me bare hands. That’s when we started bangin’. And I was only 11. Afterwards, she was so grateful for me help and for the “fucking of a lifetime” (her words, not mine) that she baked me a bacon cake. And it tasted pretty ok. Also, while I was nailin’ her, I ghostwrote a Dropkick Murphys album. You’re welcome.

I dare you all to have a St. Patrick’s day more Irish than THAT.