200 ways to say ‘I’m drunk’ this St. Patrick’s Day

Joe Donatelli


With St. Patrick’s Day almost upon us we thought it would be nice to share a little story where, if you pay attention, you can learn 200 ways to say “I’m drunk.” See how many you can slip into conversation on the 17th.

The prosecuting attorney rose, hooked his thumbs into his suspenders and asked, “Where were you on March 17?”

“I was at a bar,” I responded.

“Which bar?”

“I was at Ireland’s Four Provinces on Connecticut.”

“And what were you doing there?”

“I was out with friends.”

“Were you celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with your friends?”

“Yes.”

“And were you drinking alcohol?”

“I was.”

“How much alcohol did you drink?”

“I had a few pints.”

“You had a few pints of beer?”

“Yes.”

“How many pints of beer did you have?”

I paused.

“I lost count at 17.”

Gasps were heard throughout the courtroom.

The prosecuting attorney raised his voice.

“And how would you CHARACTERIZE your state of mind after 17 BEERS?”

“I was a little (1) tipsy.”

“You were a little tipsy after 17 beers?”

“I was (2) feeling no pain.”

“I would like to remind the defendant that he is under oath, and failure to tell ‘the whole truth and nothing but the truth’ in this case could result in a charge of perjury. Please describe your state of mind on March 17.”

“I was (3) drunk.”

“How drunk were you?”

“I was (4) hammered.”

“Is it safe to say you were (5) intoxicated?”

“Yes.”

My attorney finally objected.

“Your honor, the prosecution has established that my client was (6) inebriated on March 17. Can we move onto another line of questioning?”
The prosecuting attorney responded, “Your honor, the defendant’s state of mind on March 17 is absolutely vital to the prosecution’s case. It is our belief that how (7) addled he was played a significant role in his actions.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge said. “Objection overruled.”

“Thank you, your honor. Speaking to your state of mind, how (8) impaired were you?”

“I was (9) wasted.”

“How wasted?”

My attorney: “Objection!”

The judge: “Overruled!”

“I was (10) blasted.”

“How blasted?”

“I was (11) sloshed, (12) bombed, (13) lit.”

“Is it fair to say you were (14) befuddled?”

“Yes.”

“(15) Bleary-eyed?”

“Yes.”

“(16) Crapulous?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Do you know what crapulous means?”

“It means sick from overindulgence of liquor.”

“All right, were you (17) dopey?”

“Yes. I had one pint, then another and another. We were dancing and laughing—everyone, all of us together. Then I had another beer and another. I know it sounds crazy to say this, but what I did that evening, it wasn’t indulgence. It was, for lack of a better word, performance.”

“Performance?”

“Yes, I‘m aware of how that sounds but my drinking that St. Patrick’s Day was—it was impressive. No one should be able to get as (18) blitzed as I was and still make it to noon mass the next day, sober. Yet there I was in my Sunday best. In the whole of human history I doubt anyone has ever been as (19) ripped as I was and enjoyed it as much and suffered so little. It was Olympian (20) debauchery.”

“You make it sound like it like you accomplished something.”

“I’m going to tell you, Mr. Prosecuting Attorney, in every way I know just how (21) rocked I was. It’s become clear from the questioning that’s been allowed there will be no justice in this court today. So here’s EXACTLY how (22) plastered I got.”

My attorney: “Objection!”

Judge: “You can’t object. He’s your client!”

Me: “Overruled!”

The courtroom burst into laughter as the judge hammered his gavel.

“I wasn’t just (23) sloshed. I was (24) tanked, (25) stoned, (26) stewed, (27) soused. I got (28) smashed, (29) lit up, (30) high. I was (31) fried. I was (32) crocked. I looked (33) cockeyed. I was (34) blotto. I was (35) in the bag and (36) three sheets to the wind. I was (37) under the influence, (38) under the weather and (39) under the table.”

“I admit it. There is no shame in it. Ben Franklin once listed 200 ways to describe someone who’s drunk. I memorized them all, mainly to impress women in bars, which unfortunately works exactly as well as you’d think. Had old Ben Franklin seen me on March 17 he would have said, ‘There is a man who (40) owes no man a farthing!’

“Or shall I state it in modern terms any slack-eyed college student can understand? I was…

“(41) Wrecked.

“(42) Decimated.

“(43) Destroyed.

“(44) Annihilated.

“(45) Demolished.

“(46) Pulverized.

“(47) Thrahed.

“(48) Trashed.

“(49) Totaled.

“(50) Housed.

“(51) Buzzed.

“(52) Toasted.

“(53) Slammed.

“(54) Jacked.

“(55) And bent.

“Of course, those are just words. Your honor, bailiff, if I may.”

I slowly reached into my pocket, withdrew my phone and played a video.

“As evidence Exhibit A, I would like to present this (56) video of Long Duck Dong that exemplifies pretty much how (57) obliterated I got.”

The judge roared.

“That is not evidence! Do not enter that video into evidence.”

“Sorry, your honor. I apologize. Perhaps the level of my drunkenness could be better expressed through song.”

I then sang this (58) NSFW Flogging Molly tune in its entirety, a gavel banging in my ear throughout most of it, keeping very poor time I might add. Several of my friends in the back of the courtroom sang along.

Judge: “That’s quite enough of this song and dance. Just stick to spoken testimony.”

“Of course, your honor. As I was saying before, it was an epic bout, one that would have made Dionysus proud. The alcohol coursing through our minds allowed us to weave a rich tapestry of memories. It was a day warmly remembered.

“If I was a Republican I’d say (59) I’d gone Full Biden, (60) eaten Ted Kennedy’s breakfast and (61) felt like I dunked on the president.

“If I was a Democrat I’d say (62) I’d gone Full Rush, (63) dipped into the old NPR tote bag and (64) partied until there was Santorum everywhere.

“But I’m an independent. So let’s just say (65) I felt good about to voting.

“It was St. Patrick’s Day when what you call a crime is alleged to have occurred. It’s an Irish holiday so let’s invoke the Irish.

“I was (66) fluthered, (67) langers, (68) locked, (69) ossified, (70) paralytic, (71) pissed, (72) bolloxed, (73) wankered, (74) elephants, (75) trousered, (76) half-cut, (77) trolleyed, (78) fluttered, (79) baloobas, (80) slaughtered, (81) banjo’d, (82) rubbered, (83) bananas, (84) stocious, (85) rat-arsed, (86) blind, (87) buckled, (88) in tatters, (89) polluted, (90) snookered, (91) salubrious, (92) gee-eyed, (93) gakked, (94) pole-axed, (95) gargled, (96) galvanized, (97) lamped, (98) on my ear, (99) off my face, (100) sozzled, (101) jarred, (102) in bits, (103) blathered, (104) gimped, (105) banjaxed, (106) scuttered, (107) battered, (108) jockered, (109) mangled, (110) wellied, (111) steaming, (112) moldy, (113) off my bin, (114) julep’d, (115) in ribbons, (116) demented and (117) cabbaged, just to name a few. I could go on. The Irish have a way with words.

“Are you sports fans? You could say (118) I flew across the country with Wade Boggs. (119) It was Nickel Beer Night in my mouth. (120) I caught a doubleheader from Dock Ellis. (121) I took the Milwaukee Brewers to the Toilet Bowl. (122) I got sacked. (123) I made several unforced errors. (124) I called 403 consecutive 20-second timeouts. (125) I enjoyed the Pro Bowl. (126) I un-Tebowed. (127) I threw a couple back-back-back-back-back. (128) I quadruple-bogeyed the 19th hole.

“Maybe music’s your thing. OK. I got (129) Snoop’d, (130) Morrison’d, (131) Hagar’d, (132) C.C. DeVille’d, (133) Weiland’d, (134) Iggy Pop’d, (135) Richards’d, (136) Osbourne’d, (137) Love’d, (138) Moon’d, (139) James’d and (140) Motley Crue’d. (141) I reunited The Eagles, and (142) I went to 12.

“Who says Americans are the only people who get (143) crunk? I was (144) mamo, (145) betrunken, (146) bebado, (147) ubriaco, (148) ivre and (149) dronken.

“We have several lawyers in the courtroom. I’m sure you all watched The Wire. I got (150) Bunk. (151) I wore the red hat. (152) I went down by the train tracks after work. (153) I got my Honey Nut. (154) I got sheeeeeee-it-faced. (155) I got into the WMDs. (156) I went to Hamsterdam. (157) I was Lester Smooth and (158) I had The McNulty Special.

“Not into drama? Fine. I’ll speak in Arrested Development-ese. (159) I was all Gob’d up. (160) I drank like a never-sober. (161) I set fire to my inner banana stand. (162) I talked nonsense with Bob Loblaw. (163) I saw my analrapist. (164) I got really annyong. (165) I let Franklin speak for both of us. (166) I loosed the seal. (167) I put something before family. (168) I was a monster. (169) I hopped on. (170) I STEVE HOLT!

“Maybe you simply prefer the classics. I was (171) sauced, (172) up to my eyeballs, (173) faded, (174) lashed, (175) juiced, (176) well-done, (177) out of my head, (178) over-served and torn up (179).

“Or how about a real classic?”

I stood and put my hands behind my back.

“This is from Shakespeare’s ‘Othello.’ O God, that men should (180) put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! That we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, (181) transform ourselves into beasts!”

“Because the depths of my enjoyment know no bounds I often invent words and phrases to describe my heightened state, such as…

“(182) Sailor’s choice.

“(183) Popeye.

“(184) Admiral.

“(185) Coasting

“(186) Petting the small giraffe.

“(187) Searching for the lost shaker of salt.

“(188) Chemically inconvenienced.


“(189) Nick Nolte mug-shot-drunk.

“(190) White-girl wasted.

“(191) Schlitzed.

“(192) Invisible.

“(193) Cheesing it.

“(194) Across the street from church.

“(195) Eating the big white mint.

“(196) Uncle Jeff.

“(197) Smoooshed.

“(198) Heart full of Oprah.

“Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury—and the seventh-grade civics class that’s here in the courtroom on a field trip today—what can I say? (199) I was fucking shit-housed.”

My friends leapt to their feet and applause as did several of the seventh graders whom we’d befriend in coming years.

The defense attorney grinned and settled back into his seat.

“The prosecution rests.”

The jury left the room and returned with its verdict 10 minutes later.

Everyone rose.

The jury foreman said, “Your honor, on the charges related to allegedly filling an unoccupied police cruiser with 1,407 empty beer cans, we find the defendant not guilty.”

The judge banged his gavel and mumbled, “(200) Case dismissed.”

(Author’s note: This short story was inspired by Paul Ford’s admittedly far-more redeeming and much-better-written How to Say I Love You. Several of the terms in this article were contributed by friends and other drunkards.)

(Previously published on March 15, 2012.)

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