Faith and Begorrah
Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all! It is, as Kent Brockman says, "The one day a year when everybody's a little Irish! Except, of course, for the gays and the Italians." I met my brother (herein after referred to as "E") and a few of his college friends downtown for drinking and darts. We found a little out of the way neighborhood bar, away from the main craziness. It looked like every drunken frat boy within a three-state radius had congregated in Canton to wear green hats and booze it up. Adjourned after a few rounds (and after Maryland lost! Totally blows!) to Little Italy which, natch, was quiet and pleasant. E, bless him, had to wander around these nice little Italian places wearing his kelly-green corduroy blazer. He played it cool. I now have a box of penne and an entire apple Napoleon lurking in my fridge. Heading down to the folks' place tomorrow for corned beef, cabbage, and new potatoes. We'll probably also watch The Quiet Man, like we do every year. Pick it up if you've got time- it's a 1950s John Ford Western set in Ireland, with John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara, a climactic fifteen-minute fight scene, and more quotable lines than you can shake a shillalegh at.