Everyone loves an Irishman

I did not originally intend on posting this picture. But after hanging with him last night, hearing about how his vacation went, and several dares from friends and co-workers, I have to do it.

My buddy came back from visiting family in Belfast (and more, to his regret) and sent us this photo when he returned.

He unfortunately sent it to my workplace. I had to move it on ASAP, as you will see. If you find it offensive, too bad. Freedom of speech, etc.

Everyone loves an Irishman...

Goin' to Peggy K.'s, tonight!

I'm leaving in a few moments to meet up with a friend at Peggy Kinnane's in Arlington Heights.

He's back from "a trip home" to Belfast to see his family, and I am looking forward to drinking decent draught Guinness and eating black and white pudding the way it's meant to be prepared: in lard!

I may not make it in to work tomorrow... :)

Fly away with me...

Sorry. Another evening got away from me thanks to a clogged bathroom sink.

Submitted for your approval: an Englebert Humperdink cover of a little-known but fabulous song from the Seventies.

This is not a novelty song. This was written as a serious piece. And it's terrible. In a good way.

Dear Readers, here is... Lesbian Seagull.

Evidence we should all be glad the Eighties are over

Remember Menudo?

They had some pretty strange and, well, crappy songs, such as "Me Gusta El Picnic (I Like to Picnic)."

Judging from the video, this song is really the story of a middle-age, portly chef who likes to spend his time line dancing in the woods with young boys.

No subtext here. Really.

Cocktail of the week #9 - Hot Toddy

Yesterday was an even drearier day, weather-wise.

An intermittent near-freezing rain coming down and churning the collected snow on my walk and driveway into a wet and heavy slush the color of lead.  It was ugly work clearing it out, keeping it from turning into a thick crust of ice overnight.

With such cold, wet, miserable work, it was a happy coincidence this week's cocktail is the venerable hot toddy. A heady hot mix of liquor, sugar, spices and lemon. Just the thing on a miserable winter's day.

I had whiskey in mine, the wife chose brandy both were warm, tasty and comforting. So much so, in fact, Mrs. Wit had seconds!

Scoreboard.

Hits: 7

Misses: 6

Welcome to the Carnival of the Godless!

I learned about this from Orac's Respectful Insolence.

Now... what do I want to submit...?

A little Sven on a cold winter's night

Winter has arrived with fierce, icy teeth today.

It's been a long day. I'd been hoping to give you all (are there any of you out there to begin with?)  out there a long diatribe about "religious" versus "spiritual" notions, but the day got away from me (damn weather).

Mrs. Wit and I are snug in our PJs as the wind, ice and sleet howl outside our door. We're patiently waiting for that highlight of my Saturdays (when we are home): Svengoolie.

Here's a blast from the Svengoolie past... so you'll see what I mean:

Peace out, stay warm, and keep laughin'.