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Steak Patties Day

By Sarah Larson | Comment Diversions | March 18, 2010 | Comments ()

By Sarah Larson | Comment Diversions | March 18, 2010 |


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(Publishers Note: Because I was in flight most of yesterday, the St. Patty's Day comment diversion is a day late. My sincerely apologies. For the purposes of this diversion, just pretend that it's yesterday.)

True story: a couple of weeks ago, I was on the phone scheduling a meeting and before I hung up, the admin on the other end asked me, "You're part Irish, right? Do you know why they call it Steak Patties Day?" My mother is from Dublin and I lived there in the summers growing up. People ask me all sorts of asinine questions about Ireland, but this is the first one I'm planning on having made into a shirt. So basically what I'm saying is that I hope you lot are planning on eating your steak patties today.

Of course, everybody knows the REAL reason they call it Steak Patties Day is because St. Patrick's Day is totally Purim for Gentiles, and it's a mitzvah to get as wasted as you possibly can without actually dying of alcohol poisoning, and when you're that drunk you'll eat anything. Even steak patties, whatever the holy hell they are.

On a related note, when I was a kid I went on a field trip to a sewage treatment plant, because my school hated children and wanted them to suffer. On that field trip, I learned about activated sludge. Have you heard of this? It's what they call the hot soupy mess of wastewater mixed with oxygen and organisms to make this stuff they call biological floc, which is designed to reduce the organic content of sewage. The mix of raw sewage and activated sludge is referred to as mixed liquor.

On this most holy day of Gentile Purim, I want you to tell me all about the most heinous activated sludge you've ever created, whether it's because you were already so drunk that everything seemed like a good idea, or because you were 19 and it was spring break and you and your best friend were staying in your great aunt's condo in Sarasota because that was the only place you could afford to go and Great Aunt Mimi fell asleep after her stories and you raided her liquor cabinet and all that was in there was crème de menthe, butterscotch schnapps and Southern Comfort because that's how ladies roll when they're 189 years old, and you thought to yourself that all of those things are pretty goddamn disgusting, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you mixed them together, right? They'd probably sort of cancel each other out and it might taste just like a long island, right? And it turned out that you were wrong, OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN WERE YOU WRONG, and then ten minutes later you and your best friend were having an elaborate hallucination involving a cartwheeling circus midget, the members of Wham!, a talking sofa cushion and Great Aunt Mimi's yippy little shih tzu wearing a monocle.

So what's your activated sludge? To what sorts of unholy concoctions have you subjected your liver? Tell me all about the foulest alcoholic substances you've ever voluntarily consumed.

Sarah Larson lives in Minnesota, where she is usually up to no good. She does not actually have a Great Aunt Mimi and has never been to Sarasota, but her clearest memory of activated sludge involves SLIGHTLY illegal activity and is best left unmentioned. She only updates her blog when bullied into it, but you can read the archive here if you're bored enough.


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