Drabble (3/17/11)

It’s St. Patrick’s Day, which my fellow Chicagoans treat as something of a national holiday (assuming national holidays are celebrated by downing massive amounts of alcohol, and let’s face it, they usually are). Every March 17, our streets are overrun with drunken 22-year-olds sporting matted hair and green, puke-stained t-shirts, and while they may have made some bad decisions along the way, there’s one bad decision they probably managed to sidestep: eating Irish food. If there’s something to be said for Guinness, it’s that it fills a person up. That way, they aren’t tempted to eat corned beef, cabbage, boiled potatoes, or whatever other godforsaken dishes have made their way here from the Emerald Isle.


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