It has been quite some time since I've sat at this desk to do anything besides check my bank account. I haven't forgotten about my blog, I've simply been lazy, and also working out in the real world in The Loop. The Loop isn't necessarily the real world, nor is working, but that be the case. The Loop and my inherent laziness aren't the only reasons that I've been slow to get things going. I mean, I have PBR to drink. And St. Patrick's Day is coming.
Because of this looming holiday, I think it's about time to cast the snakes out of the South Side, especially because it rained so hard on Saturday. For the record, I am a member of the Dark Irish clan. I don't even know what that means, but I am half Irish, and I am dark, so therefore I am Dark Irish. Some months back I actually clarified this. Some of you will remember:
"Since I went to bed last night at 9:00 PM, I missed your text at 10:00. I just couldn't watch any more Law & Order, as hard that may be to believe. To clarify my heritage, which of course is rather confusing, I am 1/4 WOP, 1/2 Guinness Toting Mick, and 1/4 a mix of Scottish, Norwegian, French, and Native American, and probably some other nonsense. I like to think I'm Algonquin, but who the hell really knows. It probably equals out to about 1/222 Native American anyway, which doesn't amount to anything. I think my Indian name would be Runs for Beer and Cigarettes at Corner Bodega. As a good Long Island Catholic, I mainly state that I'm Irish and Guinea, heavy on the corned beef and cabbage. After all, everyone from that beautiful land is either Italian, Irish, Jewish or a combination. As for my complexion, obviously the Italian has superseded the Irish side. But since my Irish family is from County Cork, I bet someone had some hot sex in a peat bog with a Spanish Moor, making me Dark Irish, giving me love of drink and tobacco."
I've taken the liberty of editing my own errors, since I wrote it in the morning and I was probably hung over. My heritage has been up for dispute for some time now and I hope that settles it. Now back to what's important.
It is nearly a time to celebrate with Guinness (or green PBR or Old Style if that strikes your fancy), corned beef and cabbage, green apparel (American Apparel has some hot little green leggings), and of course, green rivers. We are in Chicago, which of course means "rivers tainted with beer and green food color".
So without further ado, here I am Chicago River-side on an ill-fated Saturday where I shared tater tots with a girl I don't know, devoured cheese fries and hot dogs at Portillo's, drank plenty a Guinness and Miller Lite, order $40 worth of vinyls from Third Man Records when we don't have a record player (Under the Great White Northern Lights, and we bought one Sunday), and had a photo shoot downtown.
Happy boozing,
St. Shelly the Green Dellalian
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Hot sex in a peat bog indeed.
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