I've not really called in to work for March 17 in a long time. It seemed necessary when I was younger, but now I admit to a few flaws in the plan. If you choose to rook your work and not go on the 17th, you will greatly enjoy the holiday proper. It will be fun, and you will get wasted and possibly comatose. While you knock back car bombs though, know that the bell will soon toll for thee. Work looms, and it looms with baleful glares from co-workers...it looms with your overwrought cologne(the cheaper the better) to stave off the booze smell that you noticed when you kicked that prostitute out of your hovel on the short side of 4AM. How much did you spend? Why is your phone lit up with text messages and voicemails in which you remember jack shit of?
Hurry fuckface, because you've got only a few hours before your perfidy is exposed by the hangover. It will go something like this:
Indeed. Not a pretty sight. Better to take the next day off...sure, if you call in sick you will be somewhat accused of sleeping one off, but that will only be a rumor...a nasty bit of shit that you, being a paragon of office virtue, can refute(by a duel if necessary). What's more is that your co-workers themselves usually have some weak sauce of their own that will manifest itself, so your situation is not likely to last for long. Trust me, I've noticed a pattern. In one of my earliest jobs out of college, the office prude all but accused me of calling in sick the day after the Super Bowl. I didn't have to remain stoic for long, because later in the day she farted at the copier. Not a squeaker mind you, but a fullbore olfactory holocaust. World War One type stuff. My point is that you can get past that one, at least once or twice. Don't abuse it, and your own experience may differ(almost assuredly). Some people believe the hardest part of this exercise is waiting out the clock on St. Paddy's proper, but once work is done you can jump in with both feet.
Anyway. Try this possibly terrible drink, courtesy of Asylum.com.