i put the green to it.
the pizza, man.
pizza is always a welcome dinnertime experience at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and last night's was the guest of honor.
i should begin by saying that i got home late for the too-many'th time in a row,
and while i appreciate that i try to fulfill and discharge all of my obligations
as they unfold and unravel and generally degenerate at the tattoo studio,
that lost hour really seems to compound the chaos of my homecoming every time.
crabtree lacks the ability to comprehend time like we do,
so when dinner and dog-dad are home late,
all he knows is HUNGER and BOREDOM....
and that means he is a hellacious and atrocious kinetic battering ram of appetite
and affection-seeking missile-guided headlong headstrong head-and-hucklebutts.
that's no joke.
pizza is the only way to go.
what do YOU mean, what do i mean?
it makes perfect sense-
the oven takes forever to preheat to 490F,
and the dough likes to reach room temp for ultimate stretch,
so, that means i'm moving forward without wasting time watching the oven.
time, which, in turn, can be devoted to my dear sweet battle-beastly boy.
....it's called a plan, neighbors.
and i have one for late nights that rewards everybody.
broth-braised broccoli is so choice.
asparagus is always welcome.
caramelized onions and fried garlic sprankles are mandatory.
spring onions spread across the top give it a subtle spring-heeled feel,
despite the feet of snow the woodsly goodness is buried beneath.
and the fennel?
well, shaved fennel makes my whole mouth tingle.
plus, those fronds look molto sexxxy on top.
cashew garlic underchee', daiya mozzarella, and crushed tomatoes
are how pizza gets going up here,
however, the toppings this time around were the TRUTH.
team green won by a landslide last night,
and pizza-town rented out my whole face,
and threw a F* of a party in my mouth!
today is one of those days.
not even in any of the conventionally disappointing ways.
i realy effing hate drunk people,
and i especially disdain and deride and despise the celebration of inebriation
however much it is thinly veiled as cultural pride,
which, in turn, seems like such a gigantic bummer-
when the main ingredients of this co-opted melting-pot-nationalism
are just alcoholism and bad boiled food, maybe don't be so psyched....
i'm just sayin'.
today is one of those days.
we all know it, and some of you love it-
it's st. patrick's day.
i'll be wearing green, anyway...
even on holidays i can't get that excited over,
i've got an intrinsic holiday spirit that can't be quelled.
i mean it.
i am zero percent irish. as i'm not from ireland.
and everybody born in boston,
drunken and losing their minds as i type?
also not irish.
i contain the same nonexistent amount of genetic irish lineage, too.
which is to say,
i am specifically and exactly just as irish as santo pasquale was.
i don't want a pinch,
nor do i want a kiss,
and if my eyes are smiling, there must be something wrong.
i have a lot of green gear, and i'm down to put it on.
i DON'T KNOW.
i'm just a walking contradiction, garbed in site-specific seasonally-appropriate attire.
i do that.
maybe just so i can pointedly participate in the parts of the thing that don't require
me to consume alcohol and salty boiled beef.
and for the record,
even if you're psyched on potato famines and rutabaga jack o'lanterns
and shillelaghs and leprechauns and red branch knights;
even if you've got a celtic cross tattoo with the word family somewhere;
even if you wear a claddagh ring;
even if somehow you still like U2 and the dropkick murphys;
even if boondock saints is your favorite movie,
and so on and so forth-
even if any and/or all of that is your favorite stuff in the whole wide world,
it's okay not to drink.
it most likely makes you a lot more interesting.
shoutouts to green shirts and bagpipes, though.
you're still cool;
never mcquiet, never o'soft.....