"Throw us the towel!"

It's an all Irish month, y'all! It started with the Pogues on the second and continues through the Irish breakfast at my house this Sunday and then rolls on to Ohio for the big day. Everyone is invited to breakfast, everyone can come watch my cousins dance in beautiful Newark, but my mother's surprise St. Patrick's Day Intervention is invite-only. Sorry. I can only imagine how tragi-comic it will be, because my Sister did not accept the offer to be a part of the A&E show "Intervention." I would not be surprised if someone secretly tapes it; I will definitely post it on YouTube.

And speaking of drinkers: Shane MacGowan was magnificent, all you haters and nay-sayers. We sat with some Irishmen that knew every word to every song and liked to scream obscenities to the band members like they were sitting next to them at the bar. The bar cut Tommy off by 10pm and then he danced a crazy little jig before passing out on the stairs. Brian Boru offered to introduce me to some O'Gradys because I have not, as yet, 'taken a husband in Chicago.' And every song was a masterpiece, enhanced by my constant awareness that I am right now watching the Pogues perform live. Hold out, young ones, because this is proof that until a band member is declared legally dead, there may be a tour.