wishbone clover

Irish Night at the Giants 2009

Shockingly, we forgot to bring a flag. Fortunately we were able to borrow an extra from the drunks Fine Irish Folk sitting everywhere around near us

Happy Birthday, Chief!

Isn't it beautiful? This is the "chocolate silk pie" that Chief has been requesting for his birthday for the past 12 years.

We've had Hawaiian celebrations, spirited ourselves away to Mendocino or Monterey, and partied in literally a dozen different ways, but I've never come through with the chocolate silk pie.

Today I finally made it for him. I guess this is his lucky year!

 

Also, the magic pink sunglasses look SPECTACULAR on him.

Happy Birthday Chief! You're my favorite Big Mick ever!

Yes, Ivan the (Apparently) Irish Cat Has Another Penguin Joke

You know how some cats are really, really into watching birds, so they can kill them? Ivan the Cat is really into penguins.

So far it's just about telling jokes. But if you find a penguin carcass lovingly left on your doorstep, I think we all know where to look for the killer.

Ivan the (Apparently) Irish Cat Tells a Bad Joke Brilliantly

This cat sounds like all the dudes at Chief's local pub. Only funnier.

He probably smells better, too.

"The Ghost and Mrs. Muir" - Childhood TV Crushes

Even in the early 70s, my taste in men ran to salty old sods with old fashioned ideas and dashing facial hair.

Sure, the The Ghost and Mrs. Muir film starring Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison is wonderful. But for my money, the TV series takes the cake.

Starring Hope Lange, her awkward hair and the lip-bitingly dashing Edward Mulhare (he's from County Cork, you know) the show played an important part in my emotional and psycho-sexual development.

I mean, God, that Captain Daniel Gregg is devastating! Check out this come hither gaze around 4:44 in the video and try to control your knee shakes. Sexy, emotionally inaccessible ghosts are hot!

Anyway, I regularly try to convince Chief to grow an "Evil Red Beard" and it's totally because of Mulhare/Captain Gregg.

Chief consistently dismisses the beard idea as "silly" and "wrong-headed" and somehow, Captain Gregg-like, that's totally satisfying too!

The Celtic Tiger brings new heights/depths to Dancing With The Stars

Another Monday night, another episode of Dancing With The Stars, enlivened by the occasional comment from Chief who was very disappointed to learn that Edyta is already gone, but not to spoil anything, his spirits got a lift near the end of the show. 

For starters, OMG, yes, the special guest judge was Michael Flatley LORD OF THE DANCE. Cheers! He's the reason Chief and I are together, so it's a very special night, indeed.

First couple up, Cheryl and Mo Green. Yawn. Except what the h-e-l-l was Cheryl wearing? After all the shit-talk about her weight from Louis and Maks (dude, I so don't even love you anymore) this week, she shows up in a lavender chiffon muumuu. She's a size four. Can we get real please?

Second up was my man to win it all, Lance Bass. And he nailed it! Nice job with the choreography Lacey, and for the record, you're not fat either. Eye roll.

Third, the only interesting thing about Susan Lucci is her size XL boobs on that XXS bird-like frame. She is stiff and tentative and awkward. Eeesh. Plus, Chief says her timing was off constantly.

Four: Brooke, Brooke, Brooke. You're a nice lady, but it's Derek and "ME" not "I'. Sigh. Why was Derrek wearing a tank under his shirt? Isn't the traditional rhumba dude all waxed-chest naked? God, the rhumba is the most boring dance ever. Except wait -- Michael Flatley disagrees: "You took my breath away dere." Plus he gave her a 10. Someone has a crush on Brooke, Mr. Michael Flatley.

As always, the whole night is made by the magnificent headdress on the lead singer-lady

Five: Groan time, it's Cloris and Corky. That man is a saint. As painful as it was to watch, it was almost better than Susan Lucci, until that WHAAAAAA!?!! of a lift. Okay, joke's over, time for Cloris to go home. In his best Simon Cowell, Chief sums it up: That was a disaster.

Six: Cody and Julianne, who is wearing quite a dress costume outfit this week. As usual. But sad news that she's stepping out to have her appendix removed to treat her endometriosis. Meanwhile, Chief is thrilled to see Edyta back to take her spot.

Seven: That's a crazy fierce wig on Kim, even though she and Warren don't do a lot of dancing. But no time to dwell on that because its....

SHOTYME choreographing a group hip hop routine. Ouch. Just ouch. Make it stop! Even Bergeron can't make it okay. But secretly? I really liked the mullet on Lance. Chief thought it was like a Bollywood routine, but not in the pretty girls way, more like the no-one-in-unison way.

But wait, someone liked it. Yes, the perpetually upbeat Flatley closed the show with this traditional Irish benediction "Fair play to yous all!"

And that's the show, Good Night!

Is "That Irish Girl" on American Idol Pregnant?

Last night the More Beatles American Idol sucked. Randy agreed with me. Totally boring.

Except...

There was something about Carly Smithson, or as Simon refers to her, "That Irish Girl", that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something physical. Like she's getting a bit rounder each week.

St. Patrick's Day - 10pm, Local Irish Pub

Yes, those are children, playing the flute, or rather the fife, just to the right of the pool table in a smoky, boozey bar, at 10 p.m. on a Monday night. That's right, on a school night. Because it's a goddamn national holiday, that's what it is! Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Five minutes later these kids were drinking cans of 7up, hyped up and hanging all over the pool table, planning for the day night (soon, oh so soon, but not soon enough) when they, too, will toil away the hours at this very pub, smoking, drinking and cheating at Liar's Dice.

I'll tell you one thing: it's going to take a hell of a lot of bleach to get the nicotine stains out of those white pants.

Last Night Chief Beat A Girl Dwarf

At pool. At the Irish bar.

"She was nice," Chief said. "It was just her misfortune to play me."

What can I say? He's a gracious winner.

Now Voyager, Rescue Porn For The Pudgy

I thought he was a tool in Casablanca, but Paul Henreid, and his cigarettes, are irresistible in Now Voyager.

There is a possibility that I suffer from former-smokeritis, and the attraction is nostalgia for the halcyon days of indoor smoking. I prefer to believe it has more to do with his safely exotic accent and wavy hair.

Now, Voyager turns up every time I'm home alone or channel surfing after Chief crashes for the night. Each time I am enthralled as he towers over Bette Davis and her crisp diction.

This is the fantasy of every pudgy girl with glasses. Escape from the daily pain of existence in the form of a "nervous illness" which requires a trip to the country, away from your troublesome family. Ah, the lure of a sanatorium rest-cure.