St. Patty's = drunken conviviality

I celebrated St. Patrick's Day yesterday, as did much of Baton Rouge.  As in all things, we celebrated by having a parade.  Of course, that means something different here than throughout the rest of the country.  Here in South Louisiana, we not only march in parades, we throw things as well.  Beads, cups, doubloons.  Other random things.  New Orleans does us one better by also throwing potatoes, carrots, and cabbages.  Yet one more reason New Orleans parties better than most other places: they do your grocery shopping for you.  Nevertheless, we still have a good time.  pictures on Flickr as usual, but here's my favorite parade picture:


So, as yesterday was also Tom's birthday, we partied.  My goodness but we partied.  Started out at Tom and Marianne's before and after the parade, and then adjourned to Richmond's for... well, further drinking, pretty much.  We had not one but two people pass out: Tom and, uh, me.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't the Killian's, nor the Irish whiskey, nor the Abita, nor the Three Olives vodka.  No, I'm pretty sure it was the Pravda vodka that did me in.  I awoke at 4:30am on Rich's couch, hiccuppy and more than a bit confused.  Apparently there was a whole thing with going outside to see Tom passed out on the lawn, but I don't recall it.  Apparently also after the rest of the world went away Rich made dinner for himself and watched SNL 'with' me, Weekend at Bernie's-style, 'cause I know I wasn't conscious.  Various incriminating pictures at Flickr, of course, but here's a lovely Team Vag picture (Team Vag... is a long story):