"You bringin' in the Wolf? S*** negro, that's all you had to say."

Man, we had a great St. Patty's Day, though it involved little to no green beer, good luck, Notre Dame, cursing, whiskey, racial slurs, Protestant v. Catholic debates, Daniel Day Lewis freedom movies, leprechauns or barroom brawls. Did I cover all the O'Stereotypes there?

Took Sparkle to Tufts, nay, Cummings Vet Hospital for her annual exam, and she checked out just fine. She got a prescription for *Prozac* to help curb her aggression towards the W.D. As I have said to more than one person, welcome to the 21st century, where even the dogs are on SSRIs. We are still two degrees removed from Soma, though, so we've got that to hold on to.

Came home and wrote Curtains, which was a nice cleansing experience. Sorry if it's too down and self-involved. That's just how I roll. Headed out and tutored, gave a couple of airplane rides to my tutee's brother and sister, and then came back to the ranch.

We went out to dinner with Ali Wolf and her husband Ben, of "The Searls met his family at Chautauqua" fame. I had such a good time, all laughs and hilariousness. Ben's a Project Manager at a Startup in Waltham, a solidly nice dude and plays a perfect Jerry Seinfeld to Ali's Elaine. He's also an Ultimate player, so i have a sneaking suspicion that this was an elaborate attempt at setting up playdates, a la Marjorie Searl in 1982. But that's cool, and he's 2 miles away as opposed to the 35 for all the other Ultimate players I know, so we can hang out and throw once the weather gets better. I have been known to throw a frisbee to myself when I have no one to play with (I also played football and baseball by myself in my childhood, Beck loves to ridicule me over this), so this is all in all a good thing, or will at least make me look like less of a loser to onlookers.

Ali absolutely cracks me up, really high energy gal who is completely unafraid to laugh at herself. I'm really glad Beck had this rotation with her and got to know her better; I think there's a fair amount of high-school (nay, middle school) level social ridiculousness that goes on in professional school, so it's hard to know what people are actually like unless you, guess what, actually talk to them. And that feels like a sentiment that we all should have learned in kindergarten, so there's probably some wicked "All the Plans of Mice and Men" style goofiness going on here. Then again, I refuse to talk to strangers and/or the Pizza Delivery guy, so I'm not exactly the get-to-know your neighbor poster-child.

So we went to Nancy Chang in Worcester for a great dinner and great times and then went to the Bean Counter where, despite the fact that someone found a hair in their cookie and Ali found the plastic milk ring in her latte, the laughter rolled on. My personal favorite was Ali's story about flatulence and cursing out a Roomba. A+ material. Ben and I, it turns out, also share the common experience of life under the iron fist, so many side comments were made to that effect, too. So, in case you can't tell, I just had a bang-up time last night. Mad props to our neighbors from Millbury street.

Came home around 11:30 or thereabouts and our upstairs neighbors Matt and Kursten were out on their porch enjoying the dying embers of St. Patty's Day, so we went up and had a Guiness or two with them. See, I can bow to ritual when the occasion calls. Hung out up the til 12:30 or so, good cap to the fun evening.

Tonight we're having any where from 3 to 400 people come over for a soiree. In case you can't tell, this is the last-breath gasp of our late 20's to become more social. I am sure we will revert to our Law & Order-watching ways before too long. Beck is in charge of food, I am in charge of music. We are the unstoppable team. A good time will be had by all.