So, technically Dad’s birthday. You know, only in the legal, state and official documents department, considering it came a few minutes after midnight, though as the story goes, he beat the clock but the nurse on duty was late getting back to the desk to file it. Whatever, most years, it was St. Paddy’s Day/birthday yesterday and cards & cake today. Most years. Wish there were more o’ those to be had, but, can’t turn the shillelagh on the pub clock back. Doing my B-day late means there’s leftover cake inside, and, who knows? Perhaps I’ll find me way to it later. (Who’m I kidding? Even Mouse wouldn’t find anything to lick off that plate after I get done with it, lads.) 2020, and things’re pretty nutty down here, Dad, hope your birthday upstairs lived up to it.
Bit rough today. Expected to be up at BackStreets as Pam and I have been for the last 7 years, listening to the bagpipers and doing a shot for Dad’s birthday. Things’re a little crazy, though, and she’ll be on the way to New York to be with her dad. Still, despite her missing out on corned beef & cabbage and both of us missing out on a drink and the live music, it’ll be all right. At some point I’ll drag my sorry ass away from the keyboard, convince myself to eat, and raise a toast. Leaving it unplanned, though. Y’know how it goes—the luck o’ the Irish’ll take care of things.
Uh, back in February, wasn’t it? Yep, sure was, but, Pam was out of town helping with her dad, then she got back and worked for 9 straight days on PRIDE Cape Coral (Hey, all my gay friends—see? I even delayed my birthday for you, bitches!)—so we finally celebrated, since (again) Pam’s schedule got squeezed like O.J. on the 405 North, and she’s headed back to NY. Still, good time, great food (the Stramenboli casserole recipe I posted on FB the other day? Go check it out to feel like you were here), & a killer homemade chocolate cake w/peanut butter frosting. (Also homemade). And really, waiting? No big deal. Yesterday looked the same on the calendar to me as Feb. 21. : )
Yours truly, working on the script for the 2nd spot for the Yeti Van Halen ad campaign for Van Halen Store. Banged away on it at BackStreets, where the French Dip was as good as always and while Pam played darts. This is why writing is like sex when you’re a teenager—you do it whenever and wherever you can.