(un)Happy (belated) St. Patrick's Day!

I'm riddled with guilt. Riddled! Earlier in the week I may have led you to believe that I'm not blogging because I'm studying for finals. But that's not true. The truth is...I've been crying.

"Crying? Montgomery, you're constantly crying. Why just this morning you were balling because there's an arrest warrant out for Richard Gere in India. It's never stopped you from blogging in the past."

First, Richard Gere is a national treasure and he shouldn't be arrested for drunkenly harassing an Indian actress. Hell, if that was a criteria for arrest, I would have been sent to prison years ago. And let me just say one more time: I'm sorry, Preity Zinta. It won't happen again.

Second, the reason my blogging has suffered is because the crying has been heavier than usual. And that's because I missed an opportunity to fulfill one of my life goals. This one lies right between "#8 - Save a life" and "#10 - Help run a charity event which raises funds to install dancing robots in a children's hospital."

Once again, I've failed to fulfill dream #9 - drink a Shamrock Shake.

As Wikipedia will tell you:

The Shamrock Shake is a seasonal dessert sold at select McDonald's fast-food franchises during March, to commemorate St. Patrick's Day. Essentially, the Shamrock Shake is a standard Vanilla shake, flavored with mint extract and dyed green.

Sounds delicious, doesn't it? So delicious in fact that they only offer it at select times, and once again I've missed it.

I realized my failure late last week during one of my favorite recurring dreams, which I've entitled "Ireland." In "Ireland," Montgomery and Legal Counsel take a vacation to...Scotland, ironically. Just kidding, it's Ireland. During our dream visit to the Emerald Isle, the zombie apocalypse happens and I'm forced to defend a rowdy band of pale-skinned redheads from the undead in a lovely little pub called, "The Cheeky Monkey."

During last week's encounter, however, I was bludgeoning a ghoul to re-death with a shillelagh (as usual) when I suddenly stopped and stared at my blood soaked cudgel. And it clicked. A realization, not the shillelagh. Why would a shillelagh click? Anyway, at that point I woke up screaming, "St. Patrick's Day was last month!!!" Fortunately, Legal Counsel makes me sleep in the backyard. So I didn't disturb her slumber.

Now I keep having the same nightmare every night: legions of Uncle O'Grimacey clones taunting me as they sip the creamy green goo. Now I cry every day. Well, cry more. And my blogging has suffered. Tear...

Oh well. Another year, another missed opportunity. But in the off chance that anybody happens to see the Shamrock shake on a menu, let me know and I'll make a pilgrimage. Mmm...minty...

Also, if you happen to see a shillelagh for sale, go ahead and buy it for me. Especially if you're in Ireland. Mmm...blackthorn...