Happy Belated St. Pat's

Well, I still can't get iPhoto working on my iMac, but I'll play around with it this weekend. I still owe my imaginary friends a WTF update on the Sudanese guy. If I can't get it working this weekend I'll just tell you what happened (and you won't believe it).

I did some electrical work this weekend (and I actually turned off the power first). But there's no pics to show you. For some reason, things like public speaking scare the crap out of me, but things like working with live electric wires don't. In my defense, the breaker box is in the basement and I don't like to go down 3 flights of stairs and back up just to do something simple, but I did it the right way this weekend. Soon I'll start wearing safety glasses when I use power tools and I'll look like a shop teacher (except I have all my fingers, knock wood).

Other than that, the weekend wasn't very eventful. I went out for a few drinks on St. Patrick's day. I didn't go to an Irish Bar because going to an Irish Bar on St. Patrick's day is idiotic. It's like you died and went to fraternity heaven.

I went to a bar called Brickskeller, which has several hundred kinds of beer from around the world. It's like DC's smaller, lamer version of The Peculiar Pub in NYC's Greenwich Village. DC seems to have a smaller, lamer version of everything in NYC, except organized crime, which is bigger, more violent and totally legal here. We elect new mob bosses every few years instead of whacking the old ones, which is more fun. (I drank Hoffbrau Heffeweise, for those of you keeping score).


At the bar, I was with my friend, Paddy McShamrock (His real name is actually almost as irish sounding), his GF and some of their friends. Here are some random facts about Paddy McShamrock:

1. We worked together at my first lawyer gig;
2. He claims he was fired because of me;
3. I don't admit number 2, but he's now making more than twice what he was making when we worked together (plus bonus) so if I did get him fired, which I don't admit, I actually did him a favor;
   
4. Paddy got a job in Miami and left here with enough flannel shirts in his wardrobe to outfit a canadian lumberjack camp; he came back with more metrosexual gear than the first season of Queer Eye;
5. His place in South Beach would make the people on MTV cribs jealous.

Paddy's friend's GF reads my blog, as it turned out. I thought I was the only one who read it. She had some really intelligent questions about my post on the housing bubble and used the phrase "opportunity costs" in a sentence. (there's a lot of economists who can't use that correctly in a sentence). She also asked some econ questions about what's happening to the dollar, but I was drinking so I couldn't answer it too well. But if she's reading, here is the link that I mentioned. So my inner geek was happy. She also thought that there were an inordinate number of posts about my bathroom. I guess since people only know things about the ninja fortress that I tell them, it's bound to give people the idea that I'm obsessed with my bathroom. Pooping in my wall-to-wall marble bathroom makes me feel like the King of Siam, but I wouldn't say I'm obsessed with it or anything.

Next week I'll try to start on some kitchen stuff and get my iPhoto working again.

[Edited to fix a typo...because I AM that anal].