“Take me to the place here the white boys dance, Take me to the place where they run and play”
-Where the White Boys Dance, The Killers

Oh St. Patrick, how I heart thee. Thanks for chasing those snakes out of Ireland, spawning the would-be holiday Whacking Day.

In an ode to the man, Eve, Cassandra, Scott, Dan, and Eve’s bro Jordan and I hit up The Local, our local Irish pub mid-afternoon to begin boozing and dining on succulent Irish stew and Shepherd’s Pie. Some Kilkenny’s and a few hours later, it was decided to attempt Irish Car Bombs in a salute to our Irishness (okay, so 3/6 of us have some technical Irish in us- I think- but everyone is Irish on St. Paddy’s day). Irish Car Bombs started out as a dare, spurred on by Jordan, led to a “I’ll do one if you do one…I’ll do one if Cassandra does one, and so on and so forth until we were all in agreement that the best possible thing to do was to drop shots of Kahula and Jameson into Guinness and guzzle it back.

“And the friendships from the whiskey to the keys”

At that point the merry trio of Jordan, Eve and Dan left for The Shins concert leaving Cassadnra, Scott, and I to our Bloor St. W Crub Pawl (or pub crawl in layman’s terms). First up was Whelan’s for pints, followed by a stop at Scott’s apartment for vodka and Jager shots and time to laugh at Mikey- the dog with a plastic cone around his head. From there, we added Scott’s cousin Ian and his cohorts, moving to Kiwi Kick, were, being unimpressed by the barkeep we decided to help ourselves to candle holders to teach the bar a lesson for its lack of ambiance and customers. And also to play the piano, change the TV channels to Titanic and play with the fireplace as we let out tequila rose shots settle.

Then it was the Yellow Griffin pub for Don Juan burgers, deep fried pickles, and large amounts of Oprah “And she DID!” impressions, even at one point converting our overused impressions into French (“Et elle fait!”). Since Cassandra and I were fresh from watching Borat that morning, Oprah impressions were sprinkled with Borat re-enactments and comments a la “vagines”, and “my retarded brother, Bilo.”

“I'm in an awful place"

Over at Shakey’s we met up with the Shins-goers, for more drinks until Scott got cut off. The thieving continued with a large score of salt and pepper shakers, menus, a sugar/sweet and lo holder complete with the sugars, to go with our cutlery, a glass from Ikea and a “Drinking during pregnancy causes harm to your baby”- Cassandra’s prize catch. We then ceremoniously taped the posters, coasters, menus, and cutlery to Carri’s door just so she wouldn’t feel left out about not partaking in our Crub Pawl. She was not impressed. Especially not by the decorative cutlery artwork we so skilfully arranged on the kitchen wall. Cassandra has pictures, which once I get my hands on them, will be used to illustrate the evening’s events, including everyone crashing on my various couches and futons.

All that aside, I wasn’t that drunk. Although not hungover, I’m never one to pass up Eggs Benedict, where our Crub Pawl continued in the am for breakfast and most notable, coffee.

“Hold on a minute, You're talking crazy”

After that I had a hot date. Maybe not in Eve’s terms of a hot date, but it did include the Green Room, Pan’s Labyrinth, and more beer and lasted 8 hours. But that’s what happens when I meet up with another Aries who works in film. And is a drummer like the OM.

And Dan wants you all to see this.

And surprisingly little U2 was heard.

“It's the calm before another storm”