I thought of two lines for a limerick. "There once was a woman named Amy / Whose crotch smelled exceedingly gamey." I think the last rhyme at the end should be "pay me," but I am disinclined to write the rest of this limerick -- I feel weary.
Tonight I am going grocery shopping and cooking dinner at home. Because who wants to go out on St. Patrick's Day? Not I, said the cat. I will put on Gilbert O'Sullivan's "I'm a Writer, Not a Fighter" and enjoy my extremely non-festive solitude.
This blog post has been a failure. Begorrah an' it has. Come here til I smack yis.
One more thing: My personal favorite piece of Celtsploitation is the Fitzgerald and Fitzgerald law firm's ad on the subway. "We fight for kids' rights!" it says, over a silhouette of a leprechaun or leprechaun-looking guy with his dukes up.