JonGorey.com

Everyone clap your hands! Most years on Saint Patrick's Day, I'm lucky enough to find myself singing Irish songs for a crowd of drunks. It can be a lot of fun, but it can wear on you, too. I imagine the Wiggles and other toddler acts face this kind of challenge at every show: a messy, unruly audience that shouts demands at you, drools, staggers around... and sometimes even spits up on the floor. But, hey — a gig's a gig! This year, in a bit of a departure, I'll be playing at a swanky lounge instead of a pub — the Alibi Lounge in the prison-chic Liberty Hotel (formerly the Charles Street Jail). I've never been there (the jail or the hotel lounge), so I have no idea what to expect. I would wager that if you're craving a more authentic experience, you might want to go to, y'know... an Irish pub. But, if you want to class it up a notch and hear me sing various Irish ballads and Pogues songs (and five or six takes on the Wild Rover), please come join me for ...

Yikes that's cold! I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the cold . But it all happened so fast , didn't it? I feel like fall -- my favorite season -- gets shortchanged, lost in the shuffle: It doesn't really get going until mid-September, and by November 1 there are already holiday commercials popping up. Then, before you know it, you find yourself paralyzed with cold, shivering in the darkness of 4:45pm. BUT, there is much joy to be found in our new season, if you can somehow roast that mind-shattering chill out of your bones. How, you ask? Simple! Get cozy. An Irish pub is a nice place to get toasty, tucked away from the cold clutches of Old Man Winter. A little place like the Irish Village in Brighton, say. Protected from the elements, nestled up next to friends or dashing strangers, you're getting warmer already. Sip a butterbeer. Or any malty brew, really. Such as Kona Pipeline Porter or Sam Adams Winter Lager. Yum. Both available (I think) at the Ir...

Now that I've got dry socks on for the first time in days, I can finally think about something besides water and where to put it. And that brings us to tomorrow: I'll be playing a Saint Patrick's Day show from 4-8pm at the Sweetwater Cafe downtown ( view map ). With a sunny forecast in store, what better way to welcome this annual rite of spring? Come by after work, say hello and have a pint, and just make sure to head home before the combination of Guinness and rebel songs gets you feeling too plucky. Let me address some Frequently Asked Questions: You realize it's a Wednesday night, right? I'm not 25 anymore! I realize that in the past I've dragged you out for 11pm sets on school nights, for which I'm sorry. This is why I requested a happy hour gig. Stop in after work, take off by 6pm, and you could still be in bed by sundown, old-timer! (Or you could stay out 'til all hours, carousing and fighting and whatnot. I'm not your babysitter.) W...

So we've got the ol' wintry mix heaving down upon us today. What a crock. I'll admit, I'm not ready for a full-on snowstorm, but it doesn't mean I want to be drizzled with frozen mush droppings all day. Gross! Anyway, over the weekend we picked up our Christmas tree, decorated, bought some presents, and sat by the fire with the house all aglow... I'm officially in the spirit. I love Christmas. Honestly, I (somewhat unconsciously) sing carols a ll year long . Every day — even during the summer — at some point, I have a Christmas carol in my head. But you know which decorations I'm not that into, for any holiday? Those blow-up lawn characters. I'm not some Grinch or Scrooge or cranky Republican or anything — in fact I think they're kinda fun when they're inflated — but when they're not on? Well, see below... it looks like Al Pacino just mowed down Santa and his peeps with an assault rifle, or perhaps an overworked elf went postal. A grizzl...