In the spirit that (hopefully) perpetuates this blog, I attended one of the events from the past weekend. I give Cheneka's Birthday experience a rating of 11 out of 11 dodged date rapes.
Historically, St Patrick's day has passed resentfully under-celebrated while making sandwiches or hawking retail. This year, in the intense anticipation of Cheneka's birthday, the sense of jubilation was so strong that I woke up 12 hours before I would see the fille d'anniversaire and headed downtown to join other Ottawaians in this the day of misplaced nationalism.
The first stop was The Mud Oven where my mug was finally unveiled (see update) and then to Wag Pet Shop/Cafe with a friend and her socially retarded Great Dane, Olive.
Olive is a well-intentioned gentle giant. One might describe her as the Lennie in any relationship. One of the saddest sights is watching a scruffy dachshund with a Napoleon-complex angrily defend his family against this tall, misunderstood dog/horse. To be fair, Olive's physical appearance epitomizes the symbol of despair, sorrow, and impending death in the English Language, which may stir some feelings of panic when she's galloping at you.
As the noon-hour loomed, we made our way to James Street Pub to get St Patrick's Day underway (with a stop at the liquor store for good measure) and met up with my favourite (and notorious good sport) St. Patrick's traveler.
St. Patty's garb is stupid. Anyone with any dignity wears a green shirt or some pants (if you're really kooky) and leaves the green beer-shaped goggles, tall hats, and dumb beads at home. However, a very persuasive and charismatic waiter came around with green and free foam hats. I wore mine until my hairline was warm and sweaty.
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Not Pictured: my sopping forehead.
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As the beers drained and our little group dispersed, I found myself back in Nepean to prepare for Cheneka's birthday. There were adorable Irish folk everywhere. I had a nice conversation with a slightly inebriated gentleman who looked exactly like your pot-of-gold leprechaun:
But actually probably looked more like:
I finally made my way to Cheneka's house where the festivities began for her and continued for me. The plans were to go to the bar for some dancing and fun, but our friend was having a get together at his place. It was decidedly the polite gesture to go there first and exchange some pleasantries with old/new friends.
As with any celebration in the spring, the matter of choosing a flattering outfit that you won't freeze in is an emotionally daunting task. I, by some sort of medical anomaly, was no longer affected by the cool air but Cheneka was still faced with the problem of dressing. Luckily, she sorted it out for herself as the evening wore on.
Though we never did make it to the bar, we had a grand time at the house party where such exciting events as this
this
and this
happened.
A mere six hours after we had returned to our respective sleep-holes, the call to action came in.
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