Just home from the Billy Bishop. Gosh, I love that place. It's completely unpretentious and people don't give a shit what you think when they sing or dance or sing karaoke while dancing. It's good times.
The day started with me not doing anything. Quite literally, I sat around on my couch for hours while thinking about working on one of the assignments I have, but not actually doing any of them. After noon I got a call to go for Peanut Buster Parfaits with Jill at the DQ up the street. Seriously, eating ice cream on a cold rainy day is deck. It just so happened Terry was getting some stuff from the shop across the street and came over for poutine. PBPs are an excellent source of various food groups, including fudge, dairy, and protein or something. Jill had a 2-for-1 coupon, so it was the cheapest PBP ever. So good.
The plan for the evening was to meet up with my TO friend Carol, a longtime penpal who is still as rad as ever, and go for dinner. Sadly, the dismal weather in the east put her back a couple of hours, so we made plans to meet for drinks instead. I love going to the Legion for any fake or real holiday, and that was the plan for tonight. I went over with Jill and Mark and met up with Eileen at the BB. The karaoke when we arrived was kick-ass, with lots of Billy Joel and Kenny Rogers. When Carol met us there we were already a few pints into it. That has to explain why I ordered a Shamrock (a shot of Jamesons, some cream and some creme de menthe) and drank it. Carol mentioned green beer before she made it into town so, on seeing the bottle of green dye on the counter, I asked if the bartender could green up her beer. He put a couple drops in, which would have been the perfect amount, but then he squirted the bottle and unleashed an unnatural amount into her beer. Trouble.
After her teeth starting getting a greenish tinge despite our attempts to dilute her beer, Eileen and Jill decided Carol should pour her beer into the pitcher and we could all be a part of the green beer. Unfortunately, the colour wasn't so great (it looked a bit like swamp water, truth be told), but at least Carol doesn't have to worry about permanently green teeth for the wedding she has to go to tomorrow.
As things have a habit of doing, the night digressed slightly when a few things became sort of apparent:
1) The singing person was not our favourite 80-year-old piano player, Bea. Instead, some folk singer who actually included a U2 song as "Irish" played a few uninspired, boring sets.
2) Eileen wanted to fight an (admitedly) annoying blonde woman at a nearby table who was needlessly loud and, well, annoying. After throwing corn nuts at her, she settled down and I started hating her instead.
3) It's sad when you leave a bar before the ancient ladies who arrived in a cab at 9:30pm.
The Billy Bishop has all sorts of good stuff going on. Baron of beef on Fridays, Bea on piano on Friday nights, meat draw on Sundays... And it looks like a British pub with very little effort. I lurv it.
I am not Irish and I don't care.
The sleep... It's calling me.
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