Well Happy St. Paddy's Day!

Woo-Hoo! It's that time of year again. Time to drink the green beer.

I just looked in my fridge though and the only things green were the cheese and the bread and something in a plastic container that I don't recognize or remember putting in there. Oh well...guess Lagniappe and I will be drinking regular beer tonight.

Note to self: Clean that fridge out somday soon.

Note to egg packaging people: When you put an expiration date on the egg carton, how about putting a YEAR on there? I've got some eggs here that are either good for a few more months or else they're about a year old.And it's been so long since I bought them that I really don't recall.

Definitely got to clean that fridge out. But not today. This is a holiday and it wouldn't be right.

I remember a St. Patrick's Day down in New Orleans. Now THAT was fun. Here's my buddy Oliver hanging out in front of House of Blues as we waited for Shauna the crazy tarot reader to get off work so we could party. We drank a ton that night and joined the second-line parade that wound through the French Quarter, stopping at many, many bars along the way. I drank and Oliver kept an eye on me. Well some of the time.

I vaguely remember him riding a few blocks in a New Orleans Police cruiser because the two female officers thought that he was cute and offered to watch him while I went to get more beers. It took me a few minutes to find him after I got my beers but he was having a ball, riding along with his head out the window and getting even more beads. I don't even remember how I got home that night. In fact I think that I wound up sleeping at Shauna's...or Lisa's...or one of my wonderfully crazy free-spirited gal-pals. Ah, those were the days.




Savannah, Georgia was a good St. Pat's party a few years ago too. It fell on a Friday night then too and I hooked up with some crazy biker gal who worked at a Mercedes dealership by day and rode her Harley after hours and on week-ends. She had some great tattoos and she did her best to try to convince me to get one that night and frankly I won't say whether or not she was successful. But there's something about those tattooed Harley girls... I've known a few over the years and it always ends on a sour note but without any regrets. I could be convinced to give another one a try. If you're a shapely tattooed Harley chick reading this, send pics. Bonus points if you've still got all your teeth.

But if that doesn't work, maybe I'll just do like my friend Aaron suggests and go out and get me one of them hot-looking Russian mail-order chicks. From what I hear, they cook, clean, and do what ya tell 'em and if they don't... "Hello, is this INS?"

I might even get one that'll clean the fridge.


Any time now, I suspect that Aaron's incredibly tolerant (of him) wife Natasha will read this and fire off a snarky comment. (Yeah, she's Russian. ) But if I recall, the whole "Hey, get a Russian girl..." concept was originally her idea.

Спасибо Tash!