Oh, wait. No, I’m not doing any of those things. Besides the green shirt I accidentally wore to work today (I mean I accidentally wore GREEN, not “I accidentally wore a shirt”) I really didn’t indulge in anything too Irishy. I grabbed a beer at a decidedly non-Irish bar with my friends Nick and Liz, and the brew was just the familiar honey-wheat color. Not a green river or leprechaun or clover or kilt in sight.
I love St. Patrick’s Day, usually. I mean, what’s not to love? It’s always Spring-like outside for the first time (not unlike TODAY! 45 degrees? Break out the SPF!), so everyone comes running out their houses to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. And then heads promptly inside to a dark, dank pub. And then it’s just a day of drinking, yelling, occasional punching, and GREEN. As you probs know, I have a very
I hate that SPD falls on a stupid weekday this year. Dumb. [Side Note: Is it just me, or does it feel like St. Patrick’s Day is ALWAYS on a Thursday?!] So my Irish debauchery is on hold until Saturday, when Lana and her husband are holding their annual Irish Fest. I’ll be there, shoving my face with Irish Car Bomb shots and cupcakes. Slainte! Until then, though, I’m just doing my best to avoid the drunken mobs in downtown Minneapolis. Yeah, they’ve been out since the top o’ this morning.
So I guess I’ll have to keep my clever Irish-isms to myself for the next couple days. That shouldn’t be too hard, considering I only have like 3 of them. And – whoops - I’ve already used them up in this blog. Blarney!
Well, I hope you find a 4-leaf-clover, rub it, and make three wishes on the leprechaun that lives under a bridge (wait, that IS what this day is all about, right?!) Arrr! Matey!