A cynic's guide to St. Patrick's Day.

First of all, I had to google leprechaun to figure out how to spell it. Nothing should be that difficult. Second of all, it's St. Patrick's Day today, otherwise known as St. Patty's Day, more often known as a day of ridiculous drinking, debauchery, and green clovers.

I don't get it. Perhaps this has something to do with me growing up Jewish in Long Island. We are usually busy getting ready for Passover at this time of year--which is another holiday I don't understand--and it was never explained to me that drinking green beer, wishing on four leafed flowers, and believing in little people was celebratory.

But, for those of you who enjoy this sort of thing, here's my guide to a festive, greenwashed day of fun based on the things I know about St. Patrick's Day...

1 & 2. Drinking is a big part of this day, yeah? While all the other Irishmen and partygoers are seeking out bars with names like O'Dooles and Casey's Irish Pub, you can skip the lines and hit up Hooters. I assure you you'll find plenty of beer there. And you will probably get lucky too. Which kills two St. Patty's birds with one inebriated stone.

3. To my understanding, folks just love their leprechauns. Well, I looked up leprechauns in Wikipedia and apparently they're just "a type of Fairy...usually taking the form of an old man, clad in a red or green coat, who enjoys partaking in mischief." Keep this to yourself...but you can find one of these guys down on Skid Row. Just buy him a beer and he'll hang all night, I'm sure.

4. To me, green beer sounds like a recipe for food poisoning. For those who'd like to seem festive, but aren't at one of these pubs serving the colored ale, just throw some green liquid food coloring in your pocket before your night out. One drop of this stuff in your pitcher of Miller will have you seeing green all night. Awesome.

Safe and happy holidays to all. And top o' the morning to you. Or something like that.

Highlights from a week gone by: McLovin, Gordon Ramsay, Home Silverlake

Tuesday night, my lovely friend at Paramount invited me to the premiere of 'I Love You, Man,' the new Paul Rudd/Jason Segel comedy (Rashida Jones, though I love her, is hardly worth mentioning) that takes jabs at bro-dating. Among the motley crew of stars on the red carpet were Ron Jeremy, Jerry Stiller and Jack Black. Then there was actor Christopher Mintz-Plasse--better known as McLovin--skinnier than a manorexic on dexetrin, who took 10 minutes to make it past 40 feet of fans. I believe that one man, who was creepily old for such fan antics, actually said 'I love your work.' I did not realize that one role in a college-humor film constituted 'work.'

At least three people asked why I wasn't wearing green. Who the fu*k knew it was St. Patrick's Day. Jews don't celebrate saints. Ridiculous.

On Wednesday I stayed with my visiting bestie at The London Hotel. If I were to get nitpicky, the digs are too contemporary-slick for my taste. But in general--gorgeous. The beds are like clouds. The baths have triple shower heads--enough said. And Gordon Ramsay at the London has a separate Vegetarian Menu upon request. A secret worth spreading.

I spent my Friday night at Home Silverlake. Scott T. Sterling DJ'ed. Scott Sterling hosted. It might have been confusing but for the differentiating middle initial. Cydney Robinson may be the Janis Joplin of this generation. The voices could make them sisters. But I am pretty sure this one wasn't on crack.



All in a week gone by. Cheers to the next seven days.

Parting thoughts: Facebook has been showing multiple maternity-related ad units on my account. Does it know something I don't? Are my pschographics showing signs of a baby bump only Facebook knows I have?