Unwanted Commentary

We went to the North Texas Irish Festival and it was greatness. After some initial worries about the event being a total bomb it picked up with gusto. Predominantly our early issues had to do with waiting in lines, long lines. Lines to get into Fair Park, lines to get the tickets to get into the Festival, standing in line to get to the ATM, standing in line to get frickin' coupons so as to buy sustinance...and beer. So early on we were not having a good time. Once we settled in with a plate of Haggis, a grilled chicken salad thing (read Taco Salad) and suitably armed with a plastic container of Guinness we got to actually listen to some music. Then we got into the groove of the event and ended up being completely entertained.

As is typical with these types of things we took it up the pooper as in paying mightily for the privelage of being there, and at risk of taking the metaphor to far we did walk back to the car that night hobbling a little. But it was a good hobble, the hobble of the strangely satisfied, that's how it happens sometimes. The whole thing seems a bit blurry now, but I know it involved me buying my Utilitkilt, the original in black, with the exciting addition of getting to drop my pants in the exhibition hall to get fitted. I should have charged admission, but few outside of my girlfriend seemed impressed. I did wear it the rest of the weekend. I would have worn it today at work had I thought I could get away with it. I heart it.

I know I've been accused of mentioning that I'm dating a Mexican a bit too often, but I have to point out that I found some level of amusement in exposing her to my, perhaps adopted, culture. She took it all in stride and I'm pretty sure she had a good time, and if she didn't she allowed me to enjoy myself and that's no small thing.