Well... St Paddy's Day.... Done and dusted. Aaaaah, how we love the black stuff!
Got to our reserved table last night and was pleasantly surprised to find a real Irishmen sitting among us regaling everyone with all manner of fantastical stories. The Irish. Love a good story. Ask Bono.
Let's not beat around the bush. We go where there are promos on for St Paddy's - the cheap bastards that we are. Scratch cards hold within them a mystical and magical power of hope - an almost reverent sense of anticipation. St Paddy may as well be old Saint Nic on this particular day. Will I finally, after all these years of disappointment, be rewarded with THE HAT (the ultimate prize - and a perfectly legitimate excuse to look goofy for the rest of the evening's revelry) or at the very least one of those awesome black tshirts with a clever quip about our beloved Guinness?
This year I walked away with 2 applique tattoos, a fucking keyring and a pocket full of "bad luck try again" tickets. Fuck the luck of the Irish!
Spread the love. And the Panados.