Commitment

When I was in the commercial real estate business it wasn’t uncommon for me to see a 100-year lease signed by a manufacturer or distributor for a large or complex industrial building, but Guinness has really shown it’s ability to commit:

Leased for 9,000 years in 1759 by Arthur Guinness at £45 per year, St. James’s Gate has been the home of Guinness ever since. It became the largest brewery in Ireland in 1838, and was the largest in the world in 1914, covering 64 acres. Although no longer the largest brewery in the world, it is still the largest brewer of stout in the world.

via Bobulate

Cubby Holes and Kickball


Kickball at DeKoevend Park, Littleton

Well we lost a kick ball again on Friday. We may just be the most losingest team in the history of all kickball. And now it seems the fun is starting to run out. Well, I’m still having a good time at it but more and more people are missing games and nobody on my team goes to the bar to “celebrate” afterward. Granted, the weather the past couple of weeks has effected my participation as well. At least everybody has a good time when they are on the field. Maybe next season I’ll try to recruit a little younger. The old marrieds can’t seem to hack it anymore.

After the game Pandy and me went out bar hopping (my brother was out of town at a bachelor party) We first stopped by the Irish Snug (I think it was snug, correct me if I’m wrong). Inside the bar are the snugs. They’re little booths, or stalls, with little tables in them. After walking in the snug and shutting the door behind you, you knock on this little (1 foot x 1 foot) door that opens up to the bar. Drinks are served to you through the little cubby hole. The snugs started in Ireland as a way for priests and politicians to drink anonymously. After that we headed out to Dulcineas 100th monkey, after trying the hippie bar which was one-in-one-out. We had a good time listening to live reggae music and chatting. Each of us got free drinks and a few free dinners all from different drunk strangers who ran into us.

The Birth Of Saint Patrick

On the eighth day of March it was, some people say,
That Saint Pathrick at midnight he first saw the day;
While others declare ’twas the ninth he was born,
And ’twas all a mistake between midnight and morn;
For mistakes will occur in a hurry and shock,
And some blam’d the babby and some blam’d the clock
Till with all their cross-questions sure no one could know
If the child was too fast or the clock was too slow.
Now the first faction fight in owld Ireland, they say,
Was all on account of Saint Pathrick’s birthday;
Some fought for the eighth for the ninth more would die,
And who wouldn’t see right, sure they blacken’d his eye!
At last both the factions so positive grew,
That each kept a birthday, so Pat then had two,
Till Father Mulcahy, who showed them their sins,
Said, “No one could have two birthdays, but a twins.”
Says he, “Boys, don’t be fightin’ for eight or for nine,
Don’t be always dividin’ but sometimes combine;
Combine eight with nine, and seventeen is the mark,
So let that be his birthday.” “Amen,” says the clerk.
“If he wasn’t a twins, sure our hist’ry will show
That, at least, he’s worth any two saints that we know!”
Then they all got blind dhrunk which complated their bliss,
And we keep up the practice from that day to this.
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