Slainte!

[chelidon]

A happy St. Patty's Day to you all, even if the saint himself was a sanctimonious hard-headed puritanical....well, anyway. It tickles me no end that we celebrate him by going out and getting quite inebriated and perhaps doing things we shouldn't. Lovely, poetic even.

I personally am going to head out now and join my comrades for an evening of delightful Irish trad. music, good food, and plenty of Tully's and thoroughly opaque beer.

Up Patrick, and Slainte!

Comments

[lylythe-strega.livejournal.com]

T'was a lovely evening, even if I'm still trying to get that green glitter out of my hair...and off of my clothes, and the cats, etc.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

It does look like a million Irish fleas were grieviously ill in y'all's bathroom, I have to say. And I don't really want to know why the cats are covered in it.

[lylythe-strega.livejournal.com]

It's not my fault if all our cats are fey, but we kinda knew that already.

What's really funny is observing the migratory patterns of glitter...despite all my efforts, I'm still finding it on all of us. Darn... ;>

[christeos-pir.livejournal.com]

Into a Belfast pub comes Patrick Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.

"And what happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
"Jamie O'Connor and me had a fight,we did," says Paddy.
"That little spalpeen O'Conner," says Sean, "he couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."
"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin'
he gave me with it."
"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself. Didn't you have something in your hand?"
"That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Connor's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight. "

[lylythe-strega.livejournal.com]

Does that mean it all resulted in tit for splat? Or, maybe the other way 'round... ;>