Irish-ish?

I headed to the South Side of Chicago on Sunday for my first South Side Irish Parade. I had heard about all the craziness that happened during the event and I was game on for it. I prepared myself for projectiles and paddy wagons. I really wanted to hang out with this lovely lady. But, alas, it did not happen. By the time the parade route was near to where I was enjoying some pre-parade frivolities I had mud smeared on my face and I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a random house in the neighborhood.

I did accomplish my own bit of "mayhem" nonetheless. I marveled at the fifteen pounds of corned beef, chased someone around with a lawn sign and broke it over their back, completely ruined my arm throwing some awesome TD passes, ripped my new hoochie momma shirt, and struggled to keep the bathroom door closed. I hung out a lot with a twelve year old and we totally schooled his dad and uncle at basketball.

This weekend I'm straight up VIP for a hotel party. I'm going to lift my pinkie when I drink out of the mini stein around my neck. I am going to curtsy when introducing myself to plush leprechauns. Then I am going to ask for a piggy back ride with the hopes that said ride will lead to some molestation of him/her/it.

Hope your celebrations are keen!