put the green beer down and step away from the dog

Today is Saint Patrick’s day, a day devoted to the patron saint of undesirables. The patron saint of engineers. And last but not least, the patron saint of people with a really fucked up fear of snakes. He’s also credited with driving the stinkin pagan’s out of Ireland. By all accounts, a very holy and devout man of the cloth. But of course it being us, and by us I mean America, we’re gonna pay homage to his life by getting shit-faced drunk, eating green cabbage, then puking all that heinous crap on the chick sitting next to us at the bar. But that’s cool; I just don’t buy into the hype. Too many years of working on Saint Patrick’s Day beating obnoxious, drunk, stupid, mouth-breathing idiot muthafucker’s out of bars has kind’a soured me on that kind of celebratory shit. But you kids do what you want.

Yesterday I ran into young Corey, and he was filling me in on him and Sara’s European vacation. Here are a few of the highlights.

Slept in a bar overnight

Saw a live sex show

Lost weight from all the walking, but gained it all back when they got to Italy. Something about Gelato stands on every corner. (What’s a Gelato?)

Whilst in Amsterdam the hotel they lodged at was in the red-light district

Also whilst in Amsterdam they decided to buy yours truly a gift. They ended up finding a DVD titled “My dog is my cure”. Corey told me that when they took it up to the counter, when the “I’m so cool and jaded cause I work in a sex shop in Amsterdam” cashier rang it up, he even raised an eyebrow.

I’m glad they made it back safely and somehow I’m sure, in the privacy of my home, I’ll enjoy the gift. I mean, “To dance with the white dog”, is one of my favorite movies. really.