Pye in the Face

To be in Boston on St. Patrick’s Day would have been very nice indeed. As it stands, I’m in Portland Ontario with narry a beer in the house. Times change, quite often for the better. The novelty of working the door at Tiernan’s would have worn off after an hour, and I certainly won’t miss the hangover stemming from staff drinks until 7am tomorrow. So what’s a part-Mick apart from civilization to do on this holiest of days? Here’s how I rolled.

• Put shamrock dog collar covers on Shep and Rhuby. I know that sounds sad, but you have to believe me when I tell you we had them handy.
• Listen to the oldest Pogues record I have, Red Roses for Me, several times during the course of the day.
• Re-read my St. Paddy’s Day post from back in 2005 which still makes me giggle.
• Planning to watch State of Grace tonight.
• Hitting Kingston on Friday, which has quite the Irish population, for a “better late than never” two-fisted liquorfest. Do they ever play McGowan at The Merchant?
• Will base today’s quotelet solely on McGowan’s teeth.
• Watched the videos I took at the Pogues show in Boston in 2006. Dig my singing:

There, that feels a little better already. Get yourselves liquored up and tight, start a fight over a perceived slight and listen to Dirty Old Town late into the night. Sláinte.

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