Some have been saying that the devil has passed on, but has he?

The answer to that question shall probably be answered in song tonight, for it is St. Patrick's Day you truckers.

Since it's an official holiday in my head I'm going to keep this short and tell you about the realization I had while watching the weather channel.

I realized, thanks to official record keepings, that to prepare for March 17th in Chicago you have to prepare for temperatures that range from 0 to 74 degrees Fahrenheit. Those are the record temperatures for today.

And, you wonder why we drink.

Sorry, Bourbonnais. But, it smells funny near the Arby's.

My dog, Dryfus, is a prick.

Nothing new, but he's getting better at it. Today, he managed to find a box of nails to carry, only they were too heavy. So, being the prick that he is, he decided to drop them in the middle of the floor, in a spot where I'd step on them, but where I wouldn't see them.

Inevitably, that's exactly what happens, I slip on them and nearly break my damn neck, but, it's OK. See, since they were nails I was a stepping on, without shoes, I managed to give myself acupuncture at the same time. Apparently, God has a plan for even the most inane and boring times of our lives, well, that and he obviously hates me.

Which is why I prefer St. Patrick. Whose one day holiday is slowly starting to turn into one forgotten month. Which, thankfully, starts this weekend with the Manhattan Irish Fest, featuring acts like Brendan Loughrey and The Hatfield Sisters, it's a nice kick off to the season, one which I will definitely be attending this Saturday.

Oh, and I've been considering cutting the pony poo, yea or neigh?