- The Rules of Engagement, part 10
Inevitably the week turns to Monday. Call it recuperation from SXSW, call it detox, whatever—the holiday weekend was a lot tamer than I would’ve liked. The primary activity? Sitting on one’s ass and watching movies, when one’s ass would much rather be out at The Burren imbibing more Smithwick’s than is probably legal or wise.
Well, that’s pretty much the worst visual ever. Mixed (and nauseating) metaphor, aisle four.
So…right. I don’t think my grandmother’s forgiven me for spending the holiday at home in front of Photoshop, but I’ve promised her I’ll do our heritage proud next year…whatever the hell that means. A weekend of relative temperance probably wasn’t a bad thing after Austin, what with the heavy drinking, the
HiJaxhijinx, and the hey-hey.
Still, I did manage to trek out on Sunday afternoon to catch a showing of Pan’s Labyrinth1. Of course, I forgot that it was a holiday weekend in Boston, which is to say that most Bostonians didn’t receive the memo informing them that the wearing of sequined shamrock stickers, Dr. Seussian floppy hats with white-and-green striping, and “KISS ME I’M IRISH LOL” t-shirts could and should be confined to Saturday. You know, the Actual Damned Holiday. I’m not sure whose idea it was to extend the Disneyfication of this holiday of cultural pride to the whole weekend, but it’d be just swell if Michael Collins would rise from the grave and administer throat-punchings galore.
…okay, I apparently woke up on the wrong side of The Happy this morning.
1 Twenty word review: “Guillermo, I want my money back. Also: please fuck Hellboy 2 up less than you did the first one. kthx.”