Bite Me takes St. Patrick's Day very, very seriously. She's got some Irish in her lineage and whenever she has the chance to be, ya know, a traditional gal, she jumps on it. Bite Me prepped for her trek to Rosie McCaffrey's by cookin' up some corned beef delights to enjoy after she downed some cocktails with the Irish folk. She stuck a meat thermometer into a slab of corned beef and waited impatiently for it to reach a safe temperature. Upon taste-testing it, Bite Me discovered that she'd be wise to follow instructions which explained that the dish oughta be simmered for like three hours. She plopped it into a Crockpot and headed out for a night of sin, Guinness and kooky holiday poseurs. She was not disappointed.
She was completely prepared to regard the place as a run-o-the-mill pseudo-Irish place, but it simply ain't. Bite Me was certainly annoyed to pay five bones to get in the door to pay twice the normal price for shots of Irish whiskey, but since she knew she was contributing to an authentic joint, it was much less painful. Rosie McCaffrey's interior is smoky and packed to the gills with the Guinness-guzzlers, but has atmosphere aplenty. The music is as true, er, green as it comes, and the outside patio set up specifically for the weekend festivities was jumpin'.
St. Paddy's Day is always gonna bring the rookies out of the woodwork, but read on to find out what kind of coolios Bite Me found hangin' at Rosie's. A waiter with a tendency to topple drinks as he aspires to be a writer. A chick named Mitzie who endures torment from jealous freaks. An ER nurse who may well opt to treat a hemorrhage with a Guinness. And Bite Me, just drinkin' it all in. As always. In all ways. At night's end, Bite Me walked into a house full of the delightful aroma of tender corned beef slow cooked with carrots, onions, red potatoes, cabbage, cloves and spices. She settled down with a plate of Irish grub and thanked her lucky stars that she be Irish. If only for a day.
Waiter, Bahama Breeze
Bite Me: So, do you like being a waiter?
Pat: It's okay. I'd actually like to write a column for a newspaper or something. I need to find a job that will pay me to go back to school. Get my master's degree in journalism.
Bite Me: Oh, honey, please don't bother with a degree.
Pat: That's what I've been told. I already have a bachelor's in English.
Bite Me: Do you frequent this place?
Pat: I wouldn't say I frequent this place. I've been here a few times. It's a little crowded. I came from the East Coast, though, where there are a lot of Irish pubs. This is the best Irish pub I've been to in Phoenix.
Bite Me: Have you ever eaten anything here? Even if it's just salt on your tequila shot?
Pat: Yeah, I've eaten here.
Bite Me: Like, what've you eaten?
Pat: I've had their wings. They're okay. Um, once I ordered a chicken sandwich and it didn't come out the way I asked for it so I wasn't too happy with that. Well, actually, it didn't come out the way it was written on the menu. So I was kinda disappointed about that, but I don't like to complain.
Bite Me: Well, I'm glad you're able to spew yer angst to me. No matter, my column's not really about the food.
Pat: The food was okay. I've only eaten here twice. It doesn't feel like it'd be too comfortable to eat here tonight.
Bite Me: I'll say. So why're you here tonight?
Pat: I came here because I knew there'd actually be . . .
Bite Me: Hot chicks.
Pat: Well, there are a lot of chicks.
Bite Me: You're such a cutie.
Pat: No. I'm not cute.
Bite Me: You're right. You're hot. (Pat takes this opportunity to flip Bite Me's double shot onto the bar. The bartender looks delighted at the prospect of wiping it up. Bite Me's pissed only because ordering a replacement will entail having to hang at the noisy overpopulated bar for far more time than she'd prefer.)
Pat: Oh! I just spilled your drink. Let me buy you another one. (Bite Me would love to have taken Pat up on this offer since she'd paid nearly 20 bucks for the shot he spilled. However, waiting for service and hanging with the loud folk in the bar would have pushed her over the edge. She chose sanity over intoxication.)
Bite Me: No. I love that you spilled my drink. Talk to me about why.
Pat: Why I spilled your drink? Because I was reaching for my beer.
Bite Me: No worries. I like this place; it's pretty cool, huh?
Pat: I like the atmosphere here. That's probably the biggest reason I come here. And it's right around the corner from my house.
Bite Me: I'm done.
Pat: What were you drinkin'?
Bite Me: It doesn't matter. (Bite Me dashes out of the inside of Rosie's to the fresh air of the covered patio. She orders up a Bushmill's and takes a much-needed deep breath. Oh, how Bite Me does abhor rookie night.)
Strip club manager
Bite Me: So, what does being a strip club general manager entail?
Trish: I just oversee everything.
Bite Me: You like it?
Trish: I could have had a nine-to-five job sitting in a cubicle on a computer all day, but that's just not me. Ya know what I do? I just throw a party seven days a week.
Bite Me: And where is your club located?
Trish: Baby Doll's is at 35th Avenue and Indian School. We've been in business many, many years.
Bite Me: I bet. So, who do people say you look like?
Trish: I don't know. Who do you think I look like?
Bite Me: Like Christina Aguilera but hotter.
Trish: Oh my God! Thank you so much.
Bite Me: So, where else have you been on St. Patrick's Day?
Trish: I've made my rounds. I usually go to Séamus McCaffrey's. This place has really taken over a lot of the business.
Bite Me: I was worried about the rain.
Trish: Yeah, but in Ireland this weather is like a summer breeze. (Note the pot necklace Trish is sportin'.)
Bite Me: So, what are you drinking tonight?
Trish: Bushmill's, of course. Jameson's is strictly for funerals and weddings.
Bite Me: What are you drinkin' tonight?
Mitzie: A lot of beer.
Bite Me: So, student-chickie, what do you study?
Mitzie: Industrial design... furniture design, there you go.
Bite Me: So, hey, do you have a nickname? Does anyone ever call you ditzy Mitzie?
Mitzie: No, but I had seven nicknames I hated that one person called me. ARGH! Oh, well, fuck them.
Bite Me: I know, fuck them. They're just small, jealous people who hate you because you're beautiful. However, I must ask you what those horrific nicknames were.
Mitzie: Mitz, poodle, hairball, wiglet. (Bite Me has had several annoying nicknames in her life. But she has come to realize that if someone calls her by her full given name, they probably don't know her very well at all. Nicknames mean someone gives a shit. Even if they're jive-ass, at least you know someone cares.)
Bite Me: They're so fucking jealous. So, what do you think of this place tonight?
Mitzie: Overall it's a good time with good atmosphere as far as this location goes. You don't have to go to Tempe and that's cool. Hey, you're squinting. How many beers have you had?
Bite Me: None, actually. I had a couple shots of tequila earlier but not a drop since I got here. How old are you, anyway? I'm 32.
Mitzie: I'm younger than you.
Bite Me: Damn it to hell, sistah. Have a Jaeger for me! That'll put some wrinkles on that face. (Bite Me ended this interrogation by planting a smooch on Mitzie's forehead. You gotta love a chick who forgoes cosmetics.)
Bite Me: You certainly look like a festive fella this evening. Where'd you get them bead necklaces?
Kevin: My friend just got back from Mardi Gras and he brought them back for me.
Bite Me: Whoa! I wonder if he bought them or stole them from a chick who had to flash for 'em. I frequented Jazzfest in New Orleans for a number of years and was perpetually pimped out by my guy friends to show some chest and get some beads for the neck... of their girlfriends. I had a hard time walking with the weight of them beads. It was oddly fulfilling. So, are you Irish?
Bite Me: And you're an ER nurse. So what if I fell down right now with, like, a massive hemorrhage?
Kevin: I would buy you a Guinness and we'd just drink.
Bite Me: What do you think of ER?
Bite Me: Is it real, though?
Kevin: No, it's fake. Totally fake, actually.
Bite Me: So when they're screaming out "triage" and fancy medical terms, that's jive?
Kevin: The names of the medication they use to shock people are totally wrong, and when you see a flatline you don't shock people.
Bite Me: They're always shocking people on that show.
Kevin: You don't need to shock people. (Bite Me hopes shock-shy Kevin isn't on duty if she flatlines. Considering the alternative, she'd opt to be jump-started.)
Bite Me: What's the best part of your job? Have you ever saved anyone's life?
Kevin: Yeah, well, I'd have to say the best part of my job is to have somebody smile at me at the end of the day. (Kevin's fiancée takes this opportunity to inform Bite Me that Kevin actually saved a human life that very day.)
Bite Me: What's the scoop, Kevin?
Kevin: I can't say his name, but he was a 75-year-old gentleman who had a quadruple bypass and chest pains. We pushed 16 meds on him in 20 minutes.
Bite Me: Mother of God, bless ya. So who's this undoubtedly long-suffering chick next to you?
Kevin: She's my fiancée.
Bite Me: God knows why she's with you. So how did you snag her 'til death do ya part?
Kevin: In the botanical gardens, they had a band playing so I made a hundred poster board signs that said "Will you marry Kevin?" and they passed them out to the audience, then a band member called her up on stage and everybody held up their signs.
Bite Me: How cute!
Kevin: So it looked like a white-out. She was completely blown away.
Bite Me: I see she's got a big fat rock on her ring finger. I gotta tell you . . . I fear I may never marry since I can't find anyone who I could stand and vice versa for more than a month or two, but I do so want that big
diamond ring. So hey, dude, do you wanna talk about that hat you're wearing?
Kevin: I stole it from a guy I saw here earlier.
Bite Me: I just ran into him. He had a gun. Better watch yer back.
Kevin: Good to know.
As parlayed to Marnye Oppenheim
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