I DREAM OF HAGGIS

I don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day because over here, every day is St. Paddy's Day; who needs a specific day designated to drinking and celebrating your minute 1/48 Irish heritage? Besides, I already had a "big night out" this past weekend - of which the above photo represents.

That is my friend, Kate, who managed to persuade a Glaswegian cop to let her wear his hat. After walking around city centre on Saturday night I have to admit, I feel sorry for the cops who beat the street when all the clubs let out. It's mayhem and surreal - french fries flying about; girls gripping onto one another in an effort to stand up; grown men slurring and weaving through the streets and no doubt, some even fighting one another. However, it's worth partaking in at least once a year; if not interesting, it's definitely entertaining.

On Saturday, Kate, Claire, and I started out at The Loft. God, I hate that place - it's a manifestation of misery and desperation. I don't even know why Glaswegians go there because you can't even enjoy a drink - everyone is too busy watching to see who is watching them. After one drink, we hightailed it to somewhere that actually had character - upstairs at the Horseshoe for some karaoke.

The Horseshoe is awesome, plain and simple. It's full of Glaswegians from all walks of life, out for a good time. At times, it turns into a giant sing-a-long and the entire crowd breaks out singing Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light".

The evening ended with more drinks at MacSorleys and then dancing at the shit hole that is Fury Murrys. The night is what you make of it, however, so it was totally awesome. Claire loves to hit the tiles just as much as I do so we spent the evening/ early morning dancing to the likes of the Stone Roses, Blondie, Michael Jackson, and Hot Chip.

And in true Glasgow style, the evening ended with chips and cheese in St. Enoch square.