Monday, March 19, 2007

Weekend Report: St. Patrick’s Day edition, Part I


Friday- Found out at all of my friends’ flights were cancelled due to the storm, so instead of having a dinner party with seven close friends from college, I got depressed, made snickerdoodles, drank wine, and watched Southie with my roommate. As for the movie, plotwise it leaves much to be desired, but does have several things in its favor: our house appears briefly during the opening sequence, and I St. and the Quencher feature prominently in the film. In addition to Donnie Walhberg (who was my favorite New Kid, by the way), Rose McGowan, Amanda Peet, and Job from Arrested Development star.


Saturday- St. Patrick’s Day! I began the day by shoveling off the back porch. Note the gigantic church that looms over my apartment. Sometimes I think it is beautiful; sometimes I think it is silently comdemning my sinfulness.

Ern and I had a full day of party preparation, so we stopped in at Tom English’s Cottage for a quick Guinness before we began our errands.
We met a man who gave us two tickets to the official St. Patrick’s Day Breakfast, hosted by Senator Jack Hart- it’s an annual roast in which all of the Boston politicians poke fun at each other. More on the in Part II.
Our first errand was to pick up the kegs from the liquor store that I am convinced it run by gypsies. I will not say which one, because I fear the gypsies and their curses. My theory is based on the following observations: the store employees all appear to be related to one another and they have dark curly hair and wear a lot of flashy gold jewelry. They speak what may be Romanian, and they get very offended if you mistake them as being Russia. However, if you ask what country they are from, they will avoid answering. See what I mean? Gypsies. Anyways, the power went out while I was in the store picking up the keg, so Head Gypsy looked at me and said “You come in the back room with me. I am afraid of the dark.” I laughed, until he handed me a flashlight and I realized he was not joking. I followed him, holding the flashlight to light up the path as we weaved through stacks and stacks of beer cases. A meowing cat startled me. “Do not be alarmed. Zat is Beast,” Gypsy Man informed me. When we made it back to the register with the kegs, a long line had formed, and now all of these people believed that I worked at the store (probably because I just came out of the storeroom holding a flashlight.) I was bombarded with questions: “Do you sell phone cards?” “Is the register working?” I informed them all that no, I did not work there, (do I look like a gypsy? No.) and Ern and I went on our merry way.

We came up with a plan to solicit help carrying the kegs up to our apartment. We could have done it ourselves - Grrrrl Power! - it just takes so darn long because we can only handle a couple of steps at a time. We went back into Tom English’s and spotted a couple of guys sitting by themselves. “Hey boys, how would you like to make ten dollars the easy way?” I asked. No deal. While Ern politely chatted with them, I had already decided that A. They were douchebag faces (they were.) and B. they weren’t going to help with the kegs. I spotted two guys at the bar with sweatshirts bearing the name of a construction company and decided they would make better targets. I tapped one on the shoulder and he turned around. “I have a proposition for you,” I told him. “Oh, would ye like me to take off me shirt?” he responded, in a thick Irish accent. “Nope. Well, maybe. But I’ll buy you and your friends a round of drinks if you help my roommate and me carry a keg up the stairs.” He smiled and quickly agreed. “Ye don’t have to buy me nothing nor pay me any money, and I’m not doing it because you’re attractive. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.” He grabbed his friend and we headed out the door, and I informed him of the bad news: it’s two kegs, not one, and I live on the third floor. Good sports, they hauled both kegs up to the apartment and posed for a photo. I found out that one of them is from the town in Kerry where my cousins live, and knows my cousins and all their friends.

The rest of the day was taken up with grocery shopping, cleaning, and cooking, and we finally made it out and back to Tom’s (for the third time that day) to meet up with a few friends for late-night pints.

5 comments:

Mrs. V. said...

He knows your cousins?????? Damn, wasn't that a stroke of "it's a small world"? What a guy, "It's the right thing to do" from the 'old world', God bless him. So what about the young guy??
Mrs. V

eileen said...

I know- what are the odds? They guys were laughing "you carry a keg up someone's stairs, and next thing you know, you're practically related!"

LisaKate said...

Eileen I am howling over the gypsy story.

LisaKate said...

You're practically related...and he takes his shirt off?

eileen said...

Hey, that's how it is in my family.


/inappropriate