MEDIA ALERT

Claddagh Irish Pub Dedication Ceremony Friday
Owner from Ireland visits Lansing and shares heritage

What: Claddagh Irish Pub rededication ceremony and VIP party

Who: Local dignitaries including Lansing Township
Supervisor John Daher and Pat McDonagh, owner of Claddagh Irish Pubs

When: 3 -9 p.m. on Friday, October 10, 2008; Ceremony will take place at 3:30 p.m.

Where: Claddagh Irish Pub at Eastwood Towne Center

Why: To honor the grand reopening of Claddagh Irish Pub and to celebrate six “glorious” years in the Lansing location

Details: Claddagh Irish Pub is thanking its patrons by offering free tastos and live music from 7 p.m. to close: from 7-9 p.m. enjoy traditional Irish folk music; from 9 p.m.-2 a.m., local rock band The Jabs will take the stage. This event is part of Claddagh’s week-long “A Taste of Ireland” celebration.

Und was assoziiert Herr März als Chauvinist der alten Schule nun? Ganz klar: knackige Studentinnen in Bikins. Kann doch kein Zufall sein dass Finja die ja in Freiburg weilt, bei MC Winkel den entsprechenden Contest gewonnen hat. Nun ist es zwar so dass ich bei Finja regelmässig vorbeischaue - aber natürlich nur im Blog, nicht in Echt, d.h. in Freiburg. Aber keine Sorge Finja, ich bin wirklich kein Stalker und habe meine beeindruckenden detektivischen Fähigkeiten nicht dazu eingesetzt dich in Freiburg aufzuspüren. Aber es soll dort ja auch noch andere junge hübsche Menschen geben...

Die Sache mit dem Klima respektive Wetter war dann leider überhaupt nicht so toll: die Kältewelle machte sich gerade in Freiburg breit und noch dazu regnete es in Strömen. Irgendwie war dann die Innenstadt auch eher desolat, wobei ich mich als Ortsfremder dort auch absolut nicht auskenne und folglich auch nicht wüsste, wo sich das gemeine Volk an einem Dienstag Abend denn so vergnügt. Immerhin waren genug Passanten unterwegs, bei denen man auch recht grobe Informationen reinholen konnte.

Gelandet sind wir (ich und Kollege Mls) dann schliesslich in einem Irish Pub. Die Live-Übertragung der Championsleague-Spiele war das ausschlagende Argument für diese Wahl. Lecker Bierchen (Kilkenny) gab es natürlich auch - und Irish Stew war auf der Liste der Tagesgerichte. Hatte ich noch nie - aber da ich ab und an ja dermassen mutig bin, dass mich das selbst überrascht, wurde prompt dieses wohl anscheinend typisch irische Gericht bestellt. War sogar richtig lecker. Und dermassen heiss, dass man mit noch mehr kaltem Bier entgegenwirken musste. Sehr schön.

Studentinnen, geschweige denn in Bikinis, gab es (diesmal) leider keine. Ist wohl auch nicht wirklich die Zielgruppe eines Irish Pubs, in dem Fussball übertragen wird.
Wobei man wohl hätte eine Frau sein müssen um der Konferenzschaltung mit geschätzten zehn Spielen, zwischen denen in einem Takt von 30 Sekunden umgeschaltet wurde, folgen zu können...

Etwas Kontakt mit der Freiburger Studentinnenschaft gab es dann doch (in einer anderen Kneipe, nach dem Fussballspiel). Herr März wusste nunmal wirklich nicht, was das WOM-Magazin ist und hat eine Leserin dieser Zeitschrift kurzerhand belästigt angesprochen und sich detailliert aufklären lassen. Dankeschön dafür.

Goodbye Italy. Hello 11 Hour drive back thru beautiful Brenner Pass. Gas stations are closed on saturdays. Car driving on fumes. Sister freaks, nephew screams. McDonalds in Garmisch. Taste of fatty foods and america. They must have some weird standardization in the cooking of their fries at Mcdonalds because they taste the exact same worldwide. These were pretty good I remember. Finally we arrive back at my sister's home in sleepy Seubersdorf. Face plant into pillow. Commence stillness for nine hours. 

It was definitely a shell shock being back in a real bed, in germany and without a camera always in my hand. This was the first of many shell shocks on my way back to St. Louis. The next day I ventured out to Regensburg with 3 of the camp counselors who had come from Germany. It was the championship game between Germany and Spain and I did just happen to be in Germany for that one day --- awesome. Regensburg was electric and dead all at the same time. The streets were completely empty untill you passed a bar where 150 people would be sitting outside watching the game with a projector shooting on a sheet. It was a great experience, everytime there was a goal or a good play, the crowd would erupt in cheers and start to chant like they were at the game. We hit up a few of these bars before ending at a bar with a small tv on the roof and about a hundred people staring skywards. And then... Germany lost. But you really couldn't tell. We walked to the city square where people were celebrating regardless of the loss and happy to be drunk and German. There was the occasional spanish crowd that was taunting and cheering but instead of acts of hooliganism and violence breaking out, the Germans just kind of smiled and congratulated the Spaniards. Very civil. You'd get beat up in St. Louis for sure if the Cardinals had just lost to the Cubs and a bunch of Chicagoans went parading around downtown.

After this fun spectacle, we ended up in and Irish pub where we met three irish friends who bought us endless beers all night. Pretty soon, one of them whipped out a harmonica and we were all singing irish folk songs with big, splashing beers in hand. I felt like I was having multiple cultural disorder.

Two more quiet restful days in Germany before the madness of traveling would become altogether real for me, for maybe the first time ever.

How it took me 3 days to get home ~or~ Why United Airlines Sucks More Ass Than Enemas...

The day started off peacefully. Peacefully packing. Afternoon flight. No rush. La-de-da-dee, who want's to pahdee? Quick wonderful flight to Frankfurt from Nuremburg via Lufthansa (the best airline ever). Casual stroll to the next gate about half a mile way. No worries, no stress. I had finally made it through the 2 or 3 security checkpoints and was walking the final leg to my gate when I heard over the loudspeakers "Flight 933 to Washington D.C. has been canceled, There are no more flights to the United States today". I don't know if it was my sublime, blissful feeling or the mimosa from the previous flight but something didn't click inside my head when I heard this and I thought nothing of it besides "Man, that's gotta suck for those people". The reality became clear when I walked to my gate and from the faces of the first few people I saw it seemed as if their children had been kidnapped by United Airlines. People were freaking the hell out. 

I walked in and looked around before finding a little nook up by one of the information desks and just started to listen. People would all come up with the same story, "No, you don't understand I like realllly have to get back to the states", and "I DEMAND to talk to your MANAGER and GET ME A FLIGHT OUT OF HERE NOW"! If not for the amazing patience of the people working the tables it would've been insanity bordering on hilarious. I learned from perching in my nook that there was in fact no way to leave Frankfurt and I would be here for the night. This was rather annoying as I had my own reasons for returning, mainly Black River Lodge.

We were shuttled like sheep to the hotels. I overheard someone telling their friend to wait and not get on the first bus for it was headed to the airport hotel whereas the second bus was headed for the nicer Downtown Hotel. This is really not a fair comparison but I always think of Schindler's list and those types of movies where families are being split up by trains and which one will be better than the other. Luckily, I chose right. We ended up at the 5 Star Reichenberg Hotel (I Think?) in a fairly nice room with huge ceilings. There was no plan to any of this, we learned everything from speculation and overhearing things from other travelers. I mean, there was a rather large squad of us, two Tour Busses full in the downtown hotel alone. Dinner was served shortly later and here's where I met my friends for the night.

Walking into the dinner room, you kind of eye everyone at each table and quickly, mentally decide - "Who will be the most fun/interesting/worth sitting next to while I eat" in a devious Seinfeldian manner. I chose the table with 3 young multicultural travelers that looked like they had done this before. They were Van from Laos, a grad student that has probably been to over 1/2 of the countries in the world, Jonathan, an american of Indian heritage who had been living in Turkey for the past 5 months, and some girl who I can't remember her name who was turning 21 at midnight and was annoying as hell. She was a mix of a bunch of cultures that she kept reminding us about all night along and now I can't remember what it was. We ate dinner with a funny family from Boston and then headed out to find some adventure in the evening. 

Just, except, it didn't really happen. I mean, we found a great rowing club and had a few beers while watching the sun set on the river and it was beautiful and magical and everything that meeting new people should be and then... we got lost in the residential areas for probably 90 minutes. The annoying girls hopes for getting fabulously drunk in germany on her 21st birthday began to fade as her back, and then her feet, and then everything started hurting. We rounded back up to the hotel and happily unloaded her before heading back into the Frankfurt night. Still no news had arrived from United. We came upon this awesome looking corner bar that seemed as if the door would shut at any moments, blinds noisily clattering over the windows and the 4 locals inside would stab, kick, and beat the shit out of us if we said anything negative about Germany at all. We didn't care. We were having good conversation and people-watching out of the corner of our eyes and it was fun all around. Finally we head back to the hotel around 2 a.m. Stilll, no news from United.

By now, my clothes were starting to gain a little funk. I mean, theorhetically, I should have almost been back in St. Louis by now. And here I was, in a hotel room in Germany, by myself. I stripped down to my birthday and through on the terry cloth robe and laid down - feeling fairly alone for the first time in a month. Normally I like being alone quite a bit but this was unsettling for some reason. I slept for 3 hours. Woke up, showered, through on my slightly less stank clothes and headed to breakfast. Still, no news from United.

After a 40 Euro (free) breakfast and tons of coffee, I was ready to get the hell out of dodge. Finally there was a sign in the lobby 'PASSENGERS OF FLIGHT 933 - MEET HERE AT 10 AM'. Finally. Some proof of life. An hour later, we were back on the busses headed not to the airport. Wait. WTF!? We were being shuttled to the airport hotel! No! This can't be true! The Horror! I talked to my friend Van and the lucky dog said that he had called United and booked a flight out to Chicago. That was all I needed. I checked in to the hotel, just to be safe, and booked it right back out the door to the shuttle that was headed for the airport. Van and I scurried up to the Lufthansa desk and were treated like we were the victims of genocide, in a good way. They asked us "OH, your the passengers from flight 933?? Where have you been, we've been waiting for you??" Van and I looked at each other and laughed. The desk clerk, who looked like Ali G, was awesome and booked me on a flight to London, DC, then STL racing around behind his desk like he was in an action movie. Van and I hugged and were on our own separate ways. I still to this day think that some of the 933 passengers are still stuck in Frankfurt.

Unfortunately the story doesn't end there (just like this entry which is rivaling the Talmud in length).
To be continued...

Boy what a great day for golf at Geant Golf course on "Nelly O'Conner's Annual Golf Tournament. Temps in the 70's with a light wind. The list was full of locals and businessman from all over.

We started the day at Geant.

The fall colors are simply stunning. And Geant Golf Course really showed it off

Then back to Hotel Mont Tremblant and Le Bernadin restaurant to celebrate out day.

Nelly O'Conners the 19th Hole

Snow is in the forecast for next Friday folks. Ski season will be here really shortly.

THINK SNOW :cool:

Cavins plans to raise the $35,000 by selling 100 $350 patron packages. For the price, patrons will get an O'Brother's T-shirt and two $50 gift certificates for food purchases per month for six months.

They may spend them in the month they receive them or let them accumulate, Cavins said. The gift certificates, however, don't expire.

If tonight's presidential debate takes place, an Irish bar in Center City will be in the limelight, hosting Gov. Sarah Palin at a pre-debate party.

The Irish Pub, 2007 Walnut St., will open its doors at 5 p.m. to receive ticketed guests for the private function.

Palin is expected to arrive at the pub between 7 and 7:30 tonight and "cruise around," greeting people, O'Connor said. There's no special food or drink; it's just the pub's usual offerings.

Palin's expected to leave around 8:30 p.m., as the party ends, O'Connor said. The pub will reopen to the public at 9 p.m., the debate's scheduled start time.

From The Metro left on the R6 SEPTA train this morning:

Adam Levitan (Pro) No offense to the women of the Pub — whom I love very dearly — but Sarah Palin will immediately become the best-looking woman to ever set foot in the fine establishment. And I don’t care if you’re running for President of the United States or captain of your dog-sledding team, leading the room in looks can never hurt. I know what you’re thinking: Who wants to see a former beauty queen sloshing back $2 Miller High Life bottles? Well, in these tough economic times, with our country’s international standing on the line — I do.

Brian X. McCrone (Con) The only thing worse than going to “the pub” to watch a presidential debate on a Friday night is going to the pub to get a glass of chardonnay on a Thursday, like Mayor Michael Nutter did last campaign season. Look, Sarah, you have a campaign war chest for goodness sake. This isn't Alaska. We have better beers to offer than $2 High Lifes. Anyone in your office ever hear of Good Dog? Ask for the PBR. It's still only $3 and it's real Philly.

Danach gings schnurstracks in den nächsten Music Records-Store, wo der Finanzhandel tüchtig angetrieben wurde. Hier wurden wir übrigens auch Zeugen eines uns unbekannten Albums namens "Swiss Mountain Music" featuring Hi Fi Alphorns, Bells and Yodelling ... Leider ein unverkäufliches Stück Schweizer Kulturgut.

Ein hübsches Irish Pub lud uns dann zu einem kurzen Umtrunk ein, wobei das Adjektiv "kurz" nicht für die Aufenthaltsdauer, sondern die länge der neckischen Schottenröckchen der sympathischen Bardamen stehen soll. Dazu entweder kniehohe Stiefel oder Socken, die Herren Solarium und Schärenschnitt waren gerettet. Und so gingen Pint um Pint über die Ladenthecke bis die erste Ablösung uns dann die Rechnung vorwies. Knapp 80$ in 3 Stunden, ein hervorragender Schnitt, den selbst Michi Schumacher in seinen besten Zeiten nicht unterbieten hätte können.

Doch der Magen knurrte und Meister Kelle hatte noch restliches Reis vom Vorabend. Dieses musste jedoch noch Warten, denn auf dem Heimweg kehrten die beiden noch in einer weiteren Spunte ein, in der uns die zwar nette, aber biertechnisch leider schlecht ausgebildete Bardame noch ein belgisches Bier schmackhaft machen wollte. Im Abgang wie zu lange abgehangener Bärgkäse aus dem Piemont, trieb uns dieser Gerstensaft schon bald wieder aus dem Lokal und in ein somalisch-betriebenes Taxi. Daheim im Wohnviertel der Fahrenden loderte dann schon bald die Flamme und ein Topf voller Reis und Onions wurde cross angebraten. Dazu ein feiner Rotwein, den wir uns auf dem Heimweg noch unter den Nagel rissen.

Durch diesen Gaumenschmaus angetrieben, orderten wir kurz darauf erneut ein Taxi - diesmal mit indischem Driver - das uns erneut in die Stadt brachte. Nach kurzem Rekognoszieren der Wirtschaftslage zog es uns förmlich wieder ins Irish Pub, wo uns ein Jamaikaner mit 2 lustigen Käseraffeln in Empfang nahm. Nach kurzem Schmalgespräch über den 2. Weltkrieg und seinen Vater standen dann schon wieder die ersten Guiness auf der Theke. Die Serviceangestellte wurde dann schon bald in die erste Konversation miteingebunden, ein paar Nachos wanderten in unsere Kehlen, der nette Jamaikaner zahlte die erste Runde Tequila, wir zahlten es ihm heim und so weiter und so fort ...

Jedenfalls war dann mal Feierabend im Irish Moos und wir mussten uns nun entscheiden: entweder nach Hause oder weiter in eine Disco. Natürlich wurde Vorschlag 1 nicht mal in Erwägung gezogen und so gings zu Fuss ins "???" (der Schreiber kann sich nicht mehr an den Namen erinnern), wo uns die 3 Rausschmeisser um unsere Ausweise baten. Da wir nicht die Katze im Sack kaufen wollten, machte der Schärenkleister dann einen ersten Schnuppergang in die Höhle und gab dem Rauchbart grünes Licht. Ach ja, auf dem Velo fuhr uns noch der Barkeeper aus dem Irish Pub über den Weg, der von uns noch die 70$ haben wollte - wir waren in unserer Euphorie einfach ohne zu bezahlen gegangen.

Auch hier wurde wieder kräftig die Werbetrommel für "My Switzerland" angekurbelt und nach ein paar weissen Russen und unschlagbar im Tischfussball verliessen wir den Laden. Per Taxi gings dann wieder in die West Bay, wo nach kurzer Erbrechungsphase des Kochs dann die Nachtruhe einkehrte.

After spending a whole bunch of time planning out meals and asking for suggestions, we threw that all out the window and decided to just wing it for lunch Saturday afternoon in downtown Grand Rapids.  I'm not sure what we were expecting, but we were kind of hoping for a little walkable shopping district.  We didn't find it, but we did find a few restaurants near Van Andel Arena.  The circus was in town the day we were down there so all the parking lots only had event parking at $7.  We ended up driving around for another ten minutes looking for a meter.  We finally found one a few blocks away.

The Black Rose sits right across the street from arena on an old brick street in downtown Grand Rapids.  The building really sticks out.  It's a nice corner building decorated in the typical Irish pub fashion.  When we stepped inside, we were met by a host who took us to the non-smoking section behind the bar.  The decor inside is, again, typical of an Irish pub.  There is a lot of dark woods, Guinness signs, and the such.  A waitress came over menus which were pretty thick.  We ordered drinks and looked over the menu.  It had been a few days since I had a burger, so that's what I went with.

The sandwich was called The Dubliner and it was a 1/2 lb of an Irish line of ground Angus beef that was served on a toasted kaiser bun.  For another fifty cents, I added a slice of cheddar cheese.  The burger was good, but nothing outstanding.  It really satisfied that graving for beef since it had been a few days.  The sandwich was served with a side of chips which I also tore through.  I don't know why but I was really hungry and lunch at the Black Rose was just what I needed.

J got a sandwich called the Kildare.  The sandwich consisted of a fire grilled marinated chicken breast topped with rasher, jack cheese, herbed aioli, lettuce, tomato, and onion then served on a basil flatbread.  She really liked the bread.  That was the highlight of the meal.  She didn't realize and I didn't realize she didn't realize that aioli is a mayo based sauce.  She didn't really notice, but she passed over a wedge of her sandwich to me and I wasn't a big fan.  I love the rasher bacon.  It's a nice alternative to the American bacon you usually get on sandwiches. 

Black Rose is the typical Irish pub.  They serve some of the traditional stuff liked corned beef.  We had a good meal in another really cool atmosphere.  I love these types of places.  There's just something about the solid wood tables and the craftsmanship in the beams in chairs that I love.  Right behind us there was a little stage for a band which I'm sure they have on weekends.  There were also big windows along all the walls that let in a lot of natural light.  Our meal was $25 with tip.  Right in the price range I look for when eating lunch.  Black Rose is a great option before an event at Van Andel or just a casual, laid back meal with friends.

Yesterday my coworkers and I went to Sine Irish Pub at Pentagon Row, which was a great time. It was a joint celebration with my boss, because his birthday is tomorrow. It was one of the best times I've had with my coworkers aside from our happy hours, which are far and few in between and need to be more frequent! We had conversations about many weird things, such as:

• light sabers
• future of web technology
• how Honey Bunches of Oats should have just a Bunches of Oats cereal
• how I am having a lucky charms breakfast date with Deepa, who has no idea why Americans put marshmallows in everything
• last Halloween, a coworker carved 4 pumpkins with President Bush, Osama Bin Laden, Hitler, and someone else's face. Straange.

Our conversations taught me something about our team. Even though we're so different and we all have our quirks, this is the best part about my job; I work with such an eclectic bunch of people, which gives me a lot to laugh about in the office. :-P

Anyway, they made my day very special. I'm so lucky to work with a kick-ass bunch.

Speaking of Lucky...

Tonight I'm headed to Lucky Strike in D.C., which is a bar/bowling alley/pool hall. I've never been, but I heard about it when I was in Chicago. My friend Diana, "Cagefighter" as I call her, is taking me. She recently moved back to the area from Brooklyn. I'm so happy, especially because she is one of my closest friends. She's a solid girl who has her head on straight. How she got the name "Cagefighter" stems from our trip to Biloxi, MS during Thanksgiving '05. It was during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and we both won a lottery to spend a week gutting and rebuilding homes. She worked her tail off that week and somehow gave her the nickname Cagefighter. She coined me Mighty Mouse.

Last night Marcus and I had dinner at Outback where he presented me with a card and a tracking number for a package from Garrett Popcorn in Chicago!!! This is not your ordinary popcorn, either. They have this mix called, "The Mix: Caramel Crisp & CheeseCorn." Normally I don't like my food touching. Okay, so call me 3 years old, but it's the truth! However, this is an exception. The mix of the sweet and salty makes it easy to inhale in one sitting. ;)

He also ordered it in the Chicago edition tin, woop. Man, I miss Chicago... ::sigh::

Kells Portland is rated the #1 Restaurant and Pub in the Nation (Tom Horan Top Ten) and has been serving the Northwest for nearly 25 years.

Posted By Larry Micohn, Amerivest Realty of Portland Oregon - Real Estate Franchise

It was a boat load of fun on Friday night at Rare Ol Times once again. This time we met up with Irish American Society for which some of us already have membership with as well. Gloria, Dan, Jim, Catherine, Nancy, Ed and all the rest have really shown us so much support and we are truly grateful.  SALPD, ODFES and the IAS made some new friends from Shannon Ireland who now live here, and we thank John and Beverly Sheridan for their support. John's a Firefighter from Ireland. Gloria Cahen did us all such a beautiful rendition once again of Danny Boy. I've done many funerals with Gloria in the past, and when she sings Danny Boy, it makes one's heart melt. Sonny Meade (champion fiddle player) was also with us there, and it was great talking to a true Virginia Gentlemen. It was the first time Sonny and I met, and we learned that we have numerous friends in common back in the western part of the State. He is also the teacher of Mike Hohmans' lovely wife, Donna. Doug made the fatal error of slapping the challenge coin down on the ol' Pipie, and I couldn't resist but to slap not just the SALPD coin down, but pulled out my old Marine unit's, and five others. I assured Doug just one drink would do. Boy, was he relieved. Now for those who do not know, Doug and Scott Elder are actually kin to me, and we share an Irish and Scottish ancestry. On my fathers' side, I have an ancestor named Joshua Gough from Antrim County, Ireland who married Cassie Jane MacDonald from Adurmurchan Point, Scotland (a real Glencoe MacDonald). Doug and I did not know of each other until he had joined the St. Andrew's Legion Pipes & Drums. Nothing happens by coincidence. I often wonder if in Gilbert County WVa, on a particular double grave site, if flowers aren't blooming as a sign of the pleasure and delight from those looking down upon us.

Finally, we want to thank Andy Jennings at Rare Ol Times for his support and Andy is delighted also that the Richmond area once again will have an Irish style pipe & drums group.

Two weeks after I got there, I broke up with Jen via phone.

During camp, we only really get to leave the site on breaks, of which there were only two.  The first break I just wandered around the university district with some of the other TLs.  The second break was a bit more eventful.

Logistics.  Staff Closure.  Staff Dinner.  All pretty normal.  After staff dinner, a head back to campus with Sierra, but I eventually find myself back at The Ram where the facilitation staff was drinking.  Of course, the Houston girls get us cut off at The Ram, much like they had the first break.  The difference this time is that we have access to a vehicle, so we decide to go to another bar.  Into this tiny little car, we cram myself, Jen, Katie, Carrie, Candice, Candice's boyfriend (the wheelman), Peter, and Ryan in the trunk.  The car was just a screaming pile of flesh for about 10 minutes while we flew through stop signs in the u-district.  In the chaos, however, I was able to divine that we were going to an Irish pub.  I thought to myself, nice relaxing pub on a Tuesday night; it'll be low key, I'll just get a Guiness and chill until the girls get us cut off again.

This was an inacurate assumption.

Candice's boyfriend had been driving like it was a Formula-1 race, until all of a sudden we screech to a halt in front of the "Irish Emigrant".  The bar/club is overflowing into the street.  Tuesday.  Night.  The girls all get in for free, and somehow Peter slipped in as well.  Ryan and I both get pulled aside and pay $10 covers.  Ryan and I get in, grab a couple of drinks, and begin to discuss camp as well as we can over the din.  As we were chatting, we both glanced up at the tv over the bar, and realize that the image is actually from a camera on the other side of the bar/club where everyone is dancing.  Right in the middle of the screen Candice and Katie are up on a platform in the center of the dance floor.  For some reason, Ryan and I decide we need to dive into this writhing mass of sexual tension and get to the girls, so with Carrie in tow, we sort of do that awkward fucking white guy dance right through the middle of the swarm.  I don't recall exactly how, but we ultimately ended up back on the bar side of the building sitting on some couches and drinking more.

Conversations were interesting all evening.  I think pretty much every female staff member there that night tried to ellicit a confession of love from me regarding another female staff member.  I can't figure out why it was such an issue, but at least it was entertaining.  Candice started it off at The Ram trying to convince me I was in love with Sierra.  Then Carrie and Jen GRILLED me about Katie Freed when we were at the Irish Emigrant.  I can't recall if Katie brought up anybody, but I do remember that someone, at some point, tried to convince me I was in love with Carrie.  The things people don't say are so revealing.

Anyway, so we're there till last call, the bar starts emptying out into the street, and everyone is just standing around smoking and talking, on the sidewalk, in the road; the entire club stepped out into the night simultaneously.  Candice's boyfriend had gone to get his wheels, so we're just standing around outside in the crowd awaiting his return, when all of a sudden, we hear glass break.  I turn to see security housing down some guy with what appeared to be a small fire extinguisher.  I couldn't quite figure out why they were spraying a dude with a fire extinguisher though, and why the extinguisher was so successful in stopping the violence... then I took in a deep breath of the night air, only to realize that I was downwind of the biggest can of mace I'd ever seen.  The crowd starts to freak out a bit while security is yelling for everyone to get the fuck out.  At this moment, it seems like things are about to fall apart.  I've got a vision of being maced, of a riot breaking out, of chaos running rampant in the street.  And of course, out of no where, the car slams to a halt right in front of the bar and we pile 8 people into a 5 seat car in a matter of 20 seconds so that we can fly from the scene as fast as possible.  That was probably my most memorable experience up to that point.

The next night, Nedu arrived on site late in the evening.  Ryan and Nedu decide they needed some drinks, so I went along.  The three of us went to Finn McCool's, a more relaxed Irish pub on University Avenue.  We each shot a Three Wisemen with every round of drinks, so inebriation was achieved rather quickly.  The conversation was quite deep and insightful despite my high BAC, and I must say ts was one of my best bar nights in a long time.

Of course, a good night of drinking doesn't end until you get back to your room.  Bear in mind, it was only a 10-12 minute walk from the dorm to the bar... the return trip was a little bit different though.  The first half of the walk was standard drunk-guy stumbling, as far as I can remember.  Then things took a turn downhill.  I mean literally, we were walking past the volleyball courts and someone decided to turn downhill through a bunch of juniper bushes.  Ryan lost his glasses and I lost a flip-flop.  The flop was recovered, but the glasses were never seen again.

At some point during this journey back to campus, I called Sierra to come be our designated walker.  She found us after we got back up to the sidewalk from the volleyball court.  Apparently she walked up to us rather casually, but we didn't see her coming and it freaked us out when she appeared out of the shadows "like a ninja".  Things get progressively fuzzier after that, so all I really know is what Sierra told me.

The next morning... was... awful.  I haven't had a real hangover in such a long time, even after similar nights of drinking.  And instead of sleeping it off, I woke up at some ungodly hour to go get breakfast with Ryan and Sierra.  I didn't feel right again until after dinner that evening.

That concludes my two breaks in Seattle.  When I get a little bit of time, I'll write about my last few days in Seattle after camp was over.

There are Americans who know this isn't true. They sing on Sunday mornings, choir books in hand. They sit in houses of worship, feeling a connection to a higher power who gives them the space to add melody to their dreams. There are still some spaces that the market hasn't completely taken over.

As I sit and type in this Irish pub, I realize a strange thing. It took the songs I didn't understand to help me appreciate these folk performers tonight. Amidst pints of Guinness and tumblers of whiskey, people quietly chat while a circle of singers and guitarists perform. Some Irish, some Irish-American, some just American.

I'm taken back to a childhood get-together of family friends. The Indian uncles and aunties sing their songs in languages that are familiar and foreign. We Indian-American kids know the patterns, the melodies, but we don't necessarily understand the words. Even today, despite seven months in India, it is musical Hindi that is the most opaque to my ears.

But it is precisely that childhood experience that makes this possible. Those voices of aunties and uncles, some great, some terrible, all singing one after the other. Some songs religious, some songs not. And as us "kidoos" drifted off to sleep, the parents continued on, mixing their voices with Indian musical melodies.

Sadly, it took songs I never really understood to be moved by songs that I do understand. Because even if this is an Irish-American pub, even if these are Irish singers, they are still singing in the language of their ancestors' rulers: English. (Though there is a language called Irish -- what we Americans call Gaelic. And there are Irish immigrants in this pub who probably speak it.)

But all of us are feeling our heart strings pulled through the English that is today our collective tongue. And because of those family get-togethers, I can appreciate the tradition of just sitting around in a room. Singing.

Even if everyone doesn't always sound perfect. And even if they don't look like supermodels.

Acompañamos nuestras cervezas (Una XX Lager en botella de aluminio para Manolo y una Indio para McD) con un plato de carnes frias y otro de papas fritas....perdon a la francesa. Esa fue la primera ronda.

Pasado de las 10pm llego la música en vivo a cargo de Los Gatosun grupo de musica muy cura, toca rock & roll, pero del viejito, del old school, o sea mis meras rolas; ademas hacen covers de canciones mas nuevas pero con el ritmo que los caracteriza, ejemplo: Las Mañanitas y Creep. Son 3 cuates: Johnny Guitarra (idem), Any Way (bateria)  y El Gato (tololoche), aparentemente no son muy famosos que digamos pero vale la pena, si encuentro algo en internet lo posteare.

Ya quiero que sea jueves...tengo sed.

Stay Tuned

P.D. Este miercoles al teatro.

Hoe dan ook: iets zegt me dat je me deze week in de vooravond geregeld in de Standonckstraat gaat vinden. Zeg gerust even 'Hallo', met een beetje geluk betaal ik je een rondje. :-)

Calculus is kicking my butt, and I'm having second thoughts about this whole teaching thing.  It's such to the point that I've had another idea.  Here's the story behind it:

Calculus had been wearing me down, and the wife had gone out with a friend of hers from college to celebrate that friend's birthday, when the wife decided to call and ask if I wanted to go out with them.  I agreed, and we headed for a gastropub in Knoxville's Old City district, The Crown & Goose.  Well, if you've ever been in that area on a Saturday night about 10:30 at night, you'll know what parking's like, as in nigh non-existent.  So, we headed for an old favorite, Union Jack's on Northshore, which we arrived at after being confused by the detour signs in that area for I-40.  We got there, had some beer, and headed home.  While we were at UJ's, the wife said, "I wish we had one of these in Maryville."  Or, something like that.  Well, it got me thinking.  Why not put one in Maryville?  Not necessarily a Union Jack's or a Crown & Goose, but perhaps something in-between.  A beer, cider, wine & mead bar (no liquor) with a dining room, a British/Irish pub done American style with British inspired food.  Grands plans for one man and no idea how to write a business plan.  I can imagine a whole book just for the place's plan.  Eventually I want to add a tea room and Orthodox Christian bookstore next to it.

On that note, if anyone's feeling brave enough to collect names of alcohol distributors used by Union Jack's, Crown & Goose, and/or other places with good beer selections in the area, I'd be very appreciative.

Translation:  Yes, this is a real plan.  The wife even said she thinks it'll be so much fun.  I agree.  I'm not blind to the work it'll take, though.  There are a lot of plans to be made and a lot of work to implement those plans.  Stock?  Beers from around the world, meads from around the world, fresh and hard ciders, and some wines.  Beer challenge copycat?  Sort of, yes, using a point system with annual winners getting an actual prize.  Actual pub?  Yes, since pubs should be open to families, not just some people wanting to nibble on something while drinking and smoking.  Smoking?  Only outside, and not at the entrance.  Darts, billiards, other entertainment?  Of course!  And so many other things to think about.

I have a name picked out with a hidden meaning:  The Bell & Dragon.  I have a menu worked out.  These things, of course, are moot without a location, money, and things with which to fill said location.  And money.  Did I mention this will take money?  Something I'm not good with.

Well, to cut the ramblings off there, this will take a couple of years.  I've been told I need to get a regular job for a couple of years to help get financially prepared to delve into this.  May be teaching.  May be something else.  If anyone had a good idea how to write up a business plan for something like this, I'd be grateful.  Any other information would be appreciated, too.

Cheers for now,

Red Wolf

Ellie and Jonathan were ready to go pretty much from the moment they woke up this morning, but we didn't drop them off until around 2:30pm. We were planning to drive into D.C. to checkout this new exhibit at the National Gallery of Art of artifacts from Afghanistan, but since the museums close at 5pm, we decided to wait until tomorrow and instead improve our minds and enrich our cultural awareness by seeing "Hellboy 2" And we both liked it, because we like comic book movies. But it wasn't as good as "Iron Man."

After that we went to an Irish pub/restaurant that I read about in "Northern Virginia" magazine called "O'Faolain's." Marc and I have this thang about trying out new restaurants. It's like an eating sickness. But a good kind because food is happy. Right? Moving on, I can't actually rationalize or excuse our eating out problem; it just is. Anyway, fun pub. I took some pictures, so if you live around here you can maybe go get some chicken potpie for yourself, it was totally good with lots of chicken and peas and a very flaky, buttery (buttery!) crust.

Yum. Marc had the corn beef and cabbage and we shared the mussels in pepper, garlic, cream sauce. They were super good. They were so good that as I ate them I could almost forget that my Dad refers to mussels as the garbage of the ocean and just enjoy them. Oh, and even though our waiter didn't have an Irish accent, the people at the table behind us did. I wasn't eves dropping; I could just hear, okay?

My parents had come to town for the final day of Common Ground to see Trace Adkins.  After a four hour drive, they were a little hungry and it was still way to early to head to Riverfront Park, so we decided to find a place for dinner.  One of our first weeks in Lansing, we went and found Edgewood Towne Centre and noticed an Irish pub on one end.  Since pub food is usually a sure bet with everybody in my family, we headed out to Lake Lansing Road for some grub.

Claddagh is a chain of fifteen Irish Pubs located in the midwest with the home office in Solon, OH (you know, "we're going bowling, so don't leave her in Solon.  Moon over Parma, tonight!"  I love Drew Carey :) )There are only two locations in Michigan with the other being in Livonia.  It was a beautiful day so we opted for the patio over the dining room.  We got a quick look at the inside and it's a gorgeaous pub.  Very typical of what you expect.  Lots of dark woods with a huge horseshoe shaped bar in the middle.  The really interesting feature was the pub tables located near the bar.  They took old whiskey barrels and put a table top on them.  I noticed it when we were walking out and I actually went back to take a closer look.  It was a really cool idea and added nicely to the overall theme.

The hostess showed us to a table on the patio which sits on the sidewalk in front of the building.  The waiter came with drinks and since we had a big night of drinking at Common Ground, we all went with Pepsi's.  The menu has a lot of traditional Irish fare along with pub staples.  There were a few sandwiches that looked good, but I went with the Steak Burger billed as "Our Signature Sizzling Steak Burger."  The 10 oz. burger was served on a brioche roll which was soft and flaky and really soaked up the flavor from the bleu cheese and American bacon I had them add on.  It was a good burger.  Good size and cooked to medium.  The bleu cheese had melted just enough to mix a little with the bacon grease which made a little sauce instead of just chunks of cheese.  The sandwich came with pub chips which are seasoned steak fries and cole slaw. 

My girlfriend ordered the Shamrock Chicken Sandwich which was the other sandwich I was going back and forth about.  The char-grilled chicken breast came basted with a spicy shamrock sauce topped with bacon, aged white cheddar, and lettuce on the same brioche roll that I had.  The chicken was good but maybe a little over done.  The sauce wasn't too spicy on the sandwich.  She said she didn't any hint of heat at all until she took a bite of the bun without the chicken.  The spicy had soaked into the bread and she wasn't expecting it.  Her meal, like everyone elses came with the pub chips and coleslaw.

My dad got The Mongahan Meatloaf Melt.   I thought that was an interesting choice, but I'm not a meatloaf fan.  I'll only eat my own.  The sandwich is a slice of meatloaf that is grilled and basted with a Guinness BBQ sauce then set on a slice of sourdough bread that has been toasted.  The sandwich is topped off with aged white cheddar and onion straws.  I know he doesn't like the taste of Guinness, but he never said anything about the BBQ sauce other than it was good.  He orders these open-faced type sandwiches most places we go.  He seemed to really like the sandwich.  Usually he makes faces when there's something he doesn't like and I never noticed it.

My mom also got an interesting sandwich.  She ordered the TRLT (pronouced "turtle").  It's a twist on a classic BLT, but with a slice of turkey.  Instead of American bacon, they put rasher bacon on instead (that's the "R" in the title).  The other twist with the sandwich is hard-boiled egg.  She was a little leery of that addition at first, but warmed up to it and really liked it.  She ended up ordering a lunch special which was a half sandwich and soup or salad.  None of the soup sounded good so she went with salad.  She asked for french dressing, but the waiter said they don't have any red dressings, so she went with ranch.  At first, I think she was a little worried about the different bacon and the eggs, but it ended up tasting much better than she hoped and she liked the sandwich.

The damage wasn't too bad.  Just about $45 for the four of us.  I had heard this place was a little expensive, but I didn't think so.  There's been places where I've paid almost $30 for lunch for two of us.  I was expecting over $50.  Even being outside, our waiter did a pretty good job of keeping up with drinks even though he did give me my girlfriend's Diet Pepsi and she got my Pepsi on one round of refills, but that's an easy mistake and not a big deal.  Claddagh is a great bar with an incredible space.  The food was good, but I'm not sure if it tops Dublin Square (review HERE).  It's definately worth a second visit and a good place to stop if you're doing a little shopping.

Mediacorp has 7 princesses, but nowhere near as cute as the 7 princesses of my lab, the children of my labmates. Something must be wrong with the chemicals we are handling though, all the children are girls, no boys. ??? And none of them like me. All look at me like they saw an alien. But they are so cute, I have to forgive them.

Presenting first, the big sister of the group, Maya!

Next is her sister, and my dinner date. Adi.

Then the 2 kindergarten mates, Shira and Noya. For them, its all about a trip going out with each other.

Shira will grow up to be very beautiful, like her mum.

And Noya is my favourite, ultimate cuteness. And for that cuteness, I will put in extra effort to give her another photo space.

Then there is Mihail, who is really shy

And then there are 2 who are so small, they cant even walk yet.

10 month-old Leah.

And Tamah, who has grown quite a bit since the last picture.

When you have children, the whole trip is about making them happy. And its quite fun watching them do senseless children things such as this.

And then they start playing with each other's hair.

Well, the adults must also have fun too. So the singles + a crazy mum went to a Irish pub for some drinks.

A few drinks and they start a trance. Do I need an exorcist? Nah, you will get into a court case for performing exorcism nowadays.

So this is the whole gang. 21 adults, 7 kids and a empty space beside me to photoshop my girlfriend in.

Nice trip, slow and relaxing. Not much visiting done, especially since the children need to go back hotel for their afternoon nap or swim. You can just look at them whole day though. And not much money spent, a nice subsidy is given. Israel is definitely more socialist than Singapore.

Os amigos olham o cardápio e, previsivelmente, pedem uma Guinness, a mais famosa irish stout. Mais Dublin, impossível.

Um dos amigos, do contra, não se entrega ao óbvio. Se a idéia era beber algo diferente, vamos ao diferente. Ele olha o cardápio e vai passando por cada bebida com o dedo. O dedo pára. Era essa. O nome impressionava. E olha que ele ainda não estava sob o efeito alucinógeno do álcool.

Homem: "Garçonete, por favor!"

Garçonete: "Sim, pois não?"

Homem aponta para o cardápio e diz: "Eu quero um...Cunilingus King."

Garçonete: "Pequeno, médio ou grande?"

Homem aposta no escuro e diz: "Grande, claro."

A garçonete sai de cena.

Minutos depois, surge um homem afro-descendente alto, forte e com cara de poucos amigos. O sujeito, uma mistura de Mike Tyson com Shaquille O'Neal, traz uma bebida esquisita nas mãos.

Os amigos, que conversavam animadamente, páram. Silêncio absoluto. Uma gota de suor brota do rosto do amigo que esperava pela bebida.

Garçom com cara de poucos amigos, misto de Mike Tyson com Shaquille O'Neal, fala: "Quem pediu um Cunilingus King!?!"

Silêncio sepulcral.

O amigo, alvo da pergunta, gagueja e sussurra com muito medo: "Eu, eu, eu..."

Myke O'Neal: "Eu o quê?"

Amigo: "Eu não bebo."