Enough science, let's drink some beers

I don't know what it is about today that makes me want to drink 17 Smithwicks, give lots of people hugs, and sloppily kiss a girl (or two) at the bar. And then pass out at 8. Preferably at home.

Just seeing that google doodle (kudos and credits to the contest winner Evan O'Sullivan Glynn) makes me thirsty. Smithwicks (pronounced "SMITH-icks", without the 'w') is the St. Patrick's day beer of choice because it's a great "session" beer. That is, it's a great beer for when you're planning on having a drinking session, as opposed to just one or two before it's your bedtime. Don't order Guinness; that's for posers. Harp is an acceptable alternative if you can't get Smithwicks.

(Un)Fortunately I'm both gainfully employed and on the program until after Friday, 27 March. Regular readers will remember that as the day I am scheduled to get my ass kicked for the not-inexpensive price of $82. I was offered a generous reduced rate on the ass-kicking from a friend of mine who, coincidentally, is probably enjoying some of Boston's finest pubs and very, very mediocre-looking girls even as I type this.

Midweek St. Patrick's day is cramping my style a little bit. It needs to be on a Thursday or Friday every year. And if the International Brazilian Jiu Jitsu federation could get me a special St. Patrick's day waiver on the weight limit that would be even more helpful. Either that or move the competition back a week, give me more time to train. And by "train" I mean "recover".