The morning after

It's always interesting to see the aftermath that a holiday leaves in its wake, especially when that holiday is Saint Patrick's Day, and happens to fall on a Sunday.

I myself did only a marginal amount of drinking, since I need most of my wits about me to install a new phone router at work. However, some people I know didn't fair as well.  For instance, TW and I found my father sleeping on the floor of my parents den when we came over to visit at 7pm and looking around the bus I see and all to familiar look of shame and pain that has plagued me on and off for years. What's really unique about this situation, or what I think is unique, is that I'm not the one in a semi-conscious (read: unconscious) state from partying too hard -- I'm just sleep deprived.

Its great to see these guys in a suit and tie look like death warmed over as they all try to keep the nausea from winning the uphill battle of their commute, or the woman who usually doesn't have a hair out of place and her makeup done perfectly, sitting next to me snoring with her head on the window.

People seem to forget the rules of drinking as they get older: don't mix liquor, the beer before liquor rhyme, stick to one brand beer, if you start with a dark ale, don't switch to a pilsener. These are principles which every man of every faith can embrace. These are not polite suggestions. These are codes of behavior and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost.

TW and I did our drinking on Saturday, from 3pm till around 9 or 10, most of which was done at the only good Irish pub in a three town radius. It's an Irish pub proper, as it sticks to the proper principle's that a "PUB"  should stick to.  Also, at any given time there are like 10 guys named Murphy at the bar. This pub has been a hangout for TW and I over the years and we make sure to go there every St Patrick's day, it's a tradition, and there's always something fun going on. This year was no exception, as we were treated to the 2012 step dancing champions from Belfast. These girls ranged between 8 and 15 (maybe) danced the shit out of several Irish tunes, it was so impressive that my wife bought green plastic beads from them for a dollar.

Over all the weekend of drinking was well spent.