17 March 2003

Saturday we went to the Irish Channel St. Patrick's Day Parade, which starts on the the other side of the park across the street from our house. We didn't stay long, but I caught a string of ankle-length beads, so I was happy.

We left the parade and went to the birthday party of one of Sonya's coworker's daughters. The child turned two years old. The whole family was there, and they were pure yats. People were very, very drunk.

"This is the best two year-old's birthday party I've ever been to!" I enthused drunkenly on the way out the door.

On Sunday this same coworker and her husband were in the Metairie St. Patrick's parade. Sonya and I had never been before, so we went. One of their friends worked at a bail bond place right on the route and he said we could park there. Sweet!

People, you have never seen so many mullets and acid washed jeans as I saw on Sunday. The common man came out to party, I tell you what.

I did not actually celebrate St. Patrick's Day today. I drove around near City Park, looking at houses. But I did listen to Special X the whole time, and they were playing Irish music. Lots of songs about drinking and Ireland and overthrowing the fucking English.