It's what our bartender said when he answered the phone on the morning of March 18th.
Seriously. My stomach hurts. I've just been drinking for a whole week straight and there's green glitter everywhere. Every year, good ol' Paddy forces us anew to drink unrealistic amounts of strange-coloured beer to honour his "spirit"-ual lifework which, apart from hearing voices, mass-baptising everyone for free, and overthrowing ancient invaluable pagan knowledge, includes the feat of ridding Ireland of all the snakes. Nevermind that there were no snakes in post-glacial Ireland.

But let's not hold a grudge against him. There are worse holidays...like "International Women's Day". Don't even get me started.

Some impressions of how people properly acknowledge St. Paddy's work:


Caruso - all the way from Dublin


Rockhouse. Rocking the boat.