Posts Tagged ‘gold shillelagh’

The Leprechaun Man

March 15, 2013

Last week was Churchill’s Renaissance, an event that was described as “The Greatest Fucking Party No One Can Remember” by Hollywood Movie Star Kevin Bacon. Jordan Wilson compiled the greatest beer lineup in the history of human civilization and the wide variety of beers allowed everyone a chance to taste even the most sought after brews such as Stone Original and Barrel Aged Shiner Bock no matter what time they arrived. AG Warfield and his star kitchen staff executed a menu so tasty that Chef AG was offered seventeen virgins to leave Churchill’s and become the private chef of some Arabian Prince who just happened by the pub that day for a deep fried PB&J.

The bar and wait staff were pushed to the brink of breaking but in the face of a line of nearly 800 people they stepped up and I can proudly say that they are the best restaurant staff in the world. Despite the overwhelming amount of food and beer starved patrons at Churchill’s Renaissance, the beers and food flew out at the speed of lightning. The two top selling beers that day were Bear Republic’s Churchill X and Mother Earth’s Wins-ten Decade Double IPA which was fitting since both were made and released specifically for publican Ivan Derezin’s 10 year anniversary as owner of Churchill’s.

While the crowd at Renaissance was for the most part sophisticated and responsible this upcoming Sunday promises to be the shit show of the century. That’s right; Sunday, March 17 is St. Patrick’s Day known to those in the industry as amateur asshole day. I personally love St. Patty’s Day. Since there are so many dickbags who have no intention of ever frequenting our bar again I can be as big of an asshole as I want to be with very few repercussions.

This year’s St. Patty’s Day is special to me personally because I was recently described on a certain four letter website I legally can’t name as The Leprechaun Man by some common street walker who was angry I wouldn’t let her smoke her e-cigarette in the middle of my dining room. At first I was deeply offended, but then I remembered that the source of this review was a diseased skankbag who clearly would die soon hopefully in some horribly painful scenario.

Instead of firebombing her spot at the trailer park I have decided to embrace this whore’s review. That’s why to help celebrate alcohol’s favorite holiday we will be offering $3 Leprechaun Man shots. The recipe I used to make The Leprechaun Man shot contains the blood of a real leprechaun I hunted, tortured and killed with my own bare hands. In addition to $3 Leprechaun Man shots we will be selling $3 pints of Green Stone Bro. This is a special variation of local craft beer emperor Stone Brewing’s most popular beer. To honor both the Pub and St. Patty’s Day our good friends over at Stone whipped up this special and colorful batch of Stone Bro just for Churchill’s and it will only be available this Sunday.

My favorite St Patty’s Day tradition is dressing up as a leprechaun, wielding a gold shillelagh and mingling with you, the general drunken public. While walking amongst the masses of green clad and Guinness guzzling freaks sounds awful it is the highlight of my year. That’s because I am doing so not to hang out with these Jameson drenched animals but to regulate upon them. If my golden shillelagh happens upon your shoulder that means it’s time for you to leave, immediately. Any opposition to the shillelagh tap might result in one of the large men standing right behind me to start breaking some fucking legs.

When I say we have zero tolerance on dipshit behavior on St. Patty’s Day I sincerely mean it. Last year our douche bag alert level reached red which according to my George W. Bush terrorist threat manual means we are fucked. To combat this dangerous situation I began shillegh tapping people for almost no reason at all in an effort to try to flush out the disturbing amount of douche bags. I gave one guy the boot for wearing a low cut v-neck “Blow Me I’m Irish” tee-shirt because it exposed the Dave Matthews lyrics he had tattooed across his chest.

This St. Patty’s day promises to be no different so make sure to be on your best behavior or run the risk of the wrath of The Leprechaun Man. Treat each other, our staff, and the pub with respect and you will have nothing to worry about. Those that don’t follow these guidelines will find out what it feels like to get bounced from a bar you just waited an hour to enter in less than seven minutes because you thought it would be funny to whistle at a bartender. That tapping you feel on your shoulder means your options are slim and grim and I suggest you stumble along to a bar that gives a shit that you took the time to dye your hair green just for today.

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St. Patty’s Day 2012

March 16, 2012

St. Patrick’s Day is a celebration of Irish culture. To Americans that means let’s get wasted. Apparently in this country we believe getting shitfaced while being all decked out in green is a great way to celebrate Irish tradition. I am not saying that all Irish people are a bunch of drunks, but I believe that is what most Americans think. My theory is that Americans use Irish culture as an excuse to get wasted because we as a people are a bunch of drunks.

Amongst bar employees and regulars St. Patty’s Day is also known as Amateur Night. Everyone who never goes out drinking at a bar decides to come out that day. It is New Year’s Eve on crack and instead of people starting to get wasted at 8pm most people begin lining their livers with liquor around noon. It is Mardi Gras except the beads are replaced with funny green hats, shirts with dirty limericks and green skinny jeans. Guinness is consumed at an alarming rate and the shot of the day is the shillelagh which is normally dropped into a half pint of Guinness. The name of this is an Irish Car Bomb and it is yet another example of misguided Americans thinking that they are honoring the Irish.

The combination of amateurs chugging pints of Guinness topped with Jameson and Bailey’s means anything can happen. There will be vomit, and a lot of it. Beware and get ready to duck and cover the second you see a curdled shillelagh floating in the beard of a man who has just shot his fourth car bomb all the while that cottage pie he just scarfed down is quickly working its way to returning itself to this world. Our bar backs will be wearing rain slickers that day so any unwanted fluids flying at them will rinse off with a quick hosing.

When faced with a bar full of people who go out so little that they don’t understand the rules of the bar, as employees we have no rules. That means there is zero tolerance on everything. Since it is impossible to properly enforce a zero tolerance policy upon 500 drunken people I will be personally monitoring the crowd myself. I will be dressed as a leprechaun and in my hand I will hold a real shillelagh which is a wooden walking stick with a large knob at the top. My shillelagh will be encrusted in gold. If I observe anyone getting out of line I will be tapping them on the shoulder with my golden cane to inform them that they have to leave. That means anyone puking, fighting, calling me bro, string ordering, groping other guy’s girlfriends, pissing on the side of the porta potty,  and honestly anyone who rubs me or my staff the wrong way will be getting shoulder tapped by my golden shillelagh.

There is a repeated crime against humanity found on every St. Patty’s day. That is the ordering of a green beer. Beer isn’t green. It’s not supposed to be green. To make beer green you have to put green food coloring or some other liquid in there. There’s no better way to ruin a tasty beer other than sticking random green liquids into it. Not only is it nasty, it’s messy. Any bartender degraded and disrespected enough to be forced to do such a thing suffers both the public humiliation of such an asinine act, but will also be forced to scrub their hands, as well as other body parts depending on individual personal practices clean of the green for days to come.

My advice to bartenders all across the nation on this upcoming St. Patty’s Day is as follows: when that thirty-two year old man wearing a fake afro wig sprouting out from underneath a green top hat with his cheeks painted green, wearing hippie glasses, a green tee-shirt that says “Kiss me I’m Irish”, finished off with green skinny jeans and green converse, approaches your bar and orders a green beer slam a Heineken down, double charge him and as soon as he pays point him out to the leprechaun with the golden shillelagh and trust that swift bar justice will served.


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