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"If you're Irish, come into the parlour..."

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March 17th.

The day we celebrate the man came to Ireland, dressed in lots of green, converted the country to a new religion, caused mass confusion for generations by having his name given to every second Irish boy (with varients for every second Irish girl), and presumably drank himself under the table.

The only day where it isn't frowned upon to make children dress in uncomfortable outfits, and send them out into the streets in the cold and rain to walk for an hour down the middle of the main road behind a 30 year old tractor that pumps about 6 pounds of smoke into their faces while everyone else in the town just watches. And if we can't find enough of our own - which we never can, we'll recall our people from every small town and city in the US and Australia and get them to line up behind the children.

The best day of the year to make money out of American tourists. Young boys go out into the fields and woods, leading old Texans on leprechaun hunts. Sales of green cloth and bin liners are usually pretty good after the second week in February. They get their revenge though, as bog loads of harvested peat have been known to go missing after an American tour bus passes.

The only day where you can take the day off, go to the pub at 12pm, leave at 2.30am, and probably meet the boss there. But its ok, he'll be bladdered too.

The first mass pub congestion since Christmas. Packed like sardines in a tin, 3 hour queues to the bar, and the joys of trying to navigate back to the table with 3 pints in hand while everyone around you is dancing a jig to the diddly-ay-ay being played by three bearded fellas in the corner armed only with a guitar and a Wolfe Tones song book. Songs such as "The Fields of Athenry", "Danny Boy", and "The Langer" are sung through out the day.

The day our politicians prove how Irish they are in the best way they can. They feck off to every other country. We are the only country in the world with a standing, annual date with the President of the United States, irrespective of who he may be. And in all the time we have had this pleasure, not once have we diversified our gift. Oh no. Every year, we give the leader of the free world a Waterford Crystal bowl. Full of grass. In fairness, its usually a nice bowl.

The one day of the year sales figures for everything Irish hit the ioniosphere. Guinness, irish whiskey, Waterford Crystal, U2 and Corrs cds, Chinese built clay "Irish cottage" models, copies of The Crying Game, "Kiss This, I'm Irish" underware, etc. The only non-Irish product to take a boost as a direct consequence is Disprin.

The one day of the year that we have managed to make into a five day festival in Dublin. Nobody really knows which end of it the 17th marks, and it has occured that we have had the five day fesitval spread out over ten days. But thats ok, because nobody really pays any attention to the other four/nine anyway.

Happy St. Patrick's Day everybody. Make mine a lager.
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I'm just finishing off a bottle of wine. Hopefully I have enough vodka left to finish off the job so I can pass out happily on the couch and forget about life.

Wheee. Yet another weekend of drinking alone [sad]

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