WEDNESDAY 23-31: PALM BEACH INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL
The 23rd installment of Palm Beach’s film festival kicks off Wednesday with a screening of Win Win, the newest film starring America’s favorite schlub, Paul Giamatti. In Win Win, he plays a lawyer and part-time high-school wrestling coach. Sounds promising. After that, and the ensuing afterparty at West Palm Beach’s Pure Vida nightclub, movies will screen at locations across Palm Beach County, from the Living Room Theater at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton all the way up to the Muvico Parisian 20 in West Palm Beach’s CityPlace. Check out the Web site for the lengthy list of documentaries, features and shorts that will screen.
Location: Visit Web site for locations.
Time: Visit Web site for schedule.
Cost: $7-$300
Contact: 561-362-0003 or Pbifilmfest.org

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WEDNESDAY 23-APRIL 03: SONY ERICSSON OPEN
As if Ultra Music Festival weren’t doing enough to fill up hotels across Miami, the Sony Ericsson Open takes place at the same time, and through April 3. Indeed, the biggest name of the open (that would be No. 1 ranked Rafael Nadal) plays on Saturday, the biggest day for Ultra. Nadal will begin the process of eviscerating his opponent at 8 p.m. Said opponent will be either Jérémy Chardy or Kei Nishikori, depending on which of them wins their match on Thursday. And we wish that winner all the best, God bless ’em. Hey, he could beat Nadal. Stranger things have happened. Other competitors include no. 2 ranked Novak Djokovic, local hero Andy Roddick, and some guy named Federer. The women’s matches will include Maria Sharapova and Caroline Wozniacki.
Location: Crandon Park, 6747 Crandon Blvd., Key Biscayne
Time: Visit Web site for schedule.
Cost: $5-$425
Contact: 800-725-5472 or Sonyericssonopen.com

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FRIDAY 25: BOB SINCLAR
If any DJ has a knack for creating club anthems that can remain relevant even after obsessive radio play, it’s Bob Sinclar. His single “World, Hold On (Children of the Sky)” came out in 2006, and “Love Generation” was released a year earlier. Both songs are still an essential part of any house-music party. The French DJ re-released these songs last year with fresh mixes on Made in Jamaica, which earned him a Grammy nomination. House DJs Michael Calfan and Gregori Klosman also will hit the decks at SET. In case you miss this party, Sinclar will perform with Pete Tong and DJ Jazzy Jeff at the Pacha Ibiza pool party Saturday at the Shelborne Beach Resort.
Location: SET, 320 Lincoln Road, Miami Beach
Time: 10 p.m.-5 a.m.
Cost: $100
Contact: 305-531-2800 or Setmiami.com

FRIDAY 25 AND SUNDAY 27: RACHEL GOODRICH
Rachel Goodrich endeared herself to us with her quirky instrumentation, fine songwriting and gutsy determination to make music on her own terms. Her Churchill’s gigs were the best things to happen at that place since the World Cup. And then, she moved to Los Angeles and broke our hearts. But now, Goodrich returns to South Florida for just two nights as she tours in support of her self-titled sophomore effort. Locos por Juana will share the bill in Miami, and Pretty Please will play at the Propaganda show. Either way, we’re more than happy to welcome Goodrich home. Where she belongs. Please don’t leave us. We love you.
Location: The Stage, 170 N.E. 38th St., Miami and Propaganda, 6 S. J St., Lake Worth
Time: 11 p.m. (The Stage) and 8 p.m. (Propaganda)
Cost: $10 (The Stage) and $5 (Propaganda)
Contact: 305-576-9577 or Facebook.com/thestagemiami and Propagandalw.com

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MONDAY 28: KATHY GRIFFIN
Kathy Griffin just can’t shut her mouth, and why would anyone want her to? The fiery-haired funny woman loves cracking jokes about her botched liposuction and dissing Sarah Palin, whom she has infuriated by, among other things, taking Bristol’s baby daddy, Levi Johnston, as her escort to the Teen Choice Awards. Griffin recently appeared on Broadway in the one-woman show Kathy Griffin Wants a Tony!, on Fox’s Glee and on the Bravo comedy special 50 and Not Pregnant. Maybe life on the D-list isn’t so bad. Griffin also will perform Tuesday at the Kravis Center in West Palm Beach.
Location: Adrienne Arsht Center, 1300 Biscayne Blvd., Miami
Time: 8 p.m.
Cost: $49-$79
Contact: 305-949-6722 or Arshtcenter.org

To: Florida college sports fans

From: Missouri alumnus and City Link associate editor Dan Sweeney

Re: Kansas Jayhawks

Hi, guys. Let me start out by saying that I don’t ask much in this old world. Just a day at a beachside bar every couple of weeks, and maybe a good rock concert every month or three. But one thing I will not — nay, cannot — put up with is the idea of the Kansas Jayhawks in the NCAA Championship.

I know you guys have your rivalries. Hell, one of the biggest is between Florida and Florida State, the two schools at which I direct this missive. I understand that, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to be blunt: You don’t know what rivalry even means. Missouri-Kansas is one of the oldest in college sports, second only to Harvard-Yale, and who really gives a damn about that? Missouri-Kansas’ hate fest is based not in the niceties of the bluebloods of the Ivy League, who mightily fight out their loathing for one another in rowing crews and glee clubs. Our own rivalry started in the bloody guerrilla war between Kansas and Missouri throughout the Civil War — even the Jayhawks’ name stems from the name of a paramilitary group from that era. How many other NCAA teams are named after a terrorist organization? Not many, I’d bet. I haven’t heard any fight songs cheering on the state university Al-Qaedas or the dear old college IRA Volunteers. (I’m pretty sure Tennessee takes its name from a different set of volunteers.)

One year while I was in college, the Jayhawks came to Missouri to play football, and their band actually had to be escorted from the stands after the first quarter for their own safety. A few months back, I noticed one of my neighbors had a Kansas Jayhawks license-plate border. I saw him getting out of his car one day recently and said, “So you’re the Jayhawk?” He looked up expectantly, happily, perhaps hoping to find a brother Kansan. Instead, he saw me, in my Mizzou Journalism T-shirt. “Oh, God,” he said, before turning and going inside his condo.

We have not spoken since.

The point is, with my own school out in the first round, and with both the Noles and the Gators still very much alive, I’m depending on one or the other of you to kill this damned team before it makes the championship. It’s a moral imperative. I realize you still have a little way to go before that fateful game may take place. Florida State has to get past an alarmingly ass-kicking Virginia Commonwealth, and Florida has to knock out either Butler or Wisconsin and Brigham Young, which remains surprisingly competitive despite cutting star forward Brandon Davies for fucking, which the school’s administration was apparently shocked to learn happens among college students. I understand that you have your sights on these games, that the Jayhawks are only on the horizon for you. But the idea that the team may take the title is first in my mind when it comes to sports these days, and only you can stop this nightmare from coming true. Besides, you both know you want a Florida State-Florida Final Four game. What passes for your own “rivalry” demands it.

So come on, Florida basketball teams! For the sake of your own schools’ historic moments, for the sake of my sanity, for the sake of human decency everywhere, do whatever you have to do to stop the Jayhawks. Put on a hard foul, and then kick ’em when they’re down. Remember: They’re not people. They’re Jayhawks.

OK,
Dan Sweeney

Illustration by Mike Reed of the Los Angeles Times

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by Julia Allison

The new-mail sound pinged and I clicked. “I would love to watch you get punched senseless,” the message read. “You are a fucking failure, a typical New York failure. If I ever find any of your written nonsense on MSN or Yahoo, it will probably get ugly.”

The bullying I endured in middle school was so bad I used to come home in tears, wishing I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. And yet, here I am, more than a decade and a half later, dealing with a far more virulent strain: cyberbullying.

E-mails, comments, Facebook, Twitter. If there’s a way to reach people electronically, there’s a way to make them cry.

My haters love to focus on my physical appearance. I have body parts I didn’t even know could be called hideous: “sausage fingers” and “elephant knees,” for example. But it doesn’t stop there. One commenter wrote, “Julia, you are a despicable person. Ugly inside and out, with ZERO redeeming qualities. … [D]espite your best efforts to scrub it all and land a husband … which will NEVER happen, btw.”

This represents just a fraction of the hate that has been thrown my way, as well as in the direction of my friends, family, boyfriends and employers. Why? As a columnist and as a social-media user, haters feel I am fair game. They do it because they can. Because I “asked for it” by sharing anything at all.

We live in a world of more than 600 million Facebook accounts, 160 million blogs, 190 million Twitter accounts. Are we all “asking” to be cyberbullied?

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On March 10, the White House convened its Conference on Bullying Prevention and launched Stopbullying.gov. “This isn’t an issue that makes headlines every day, but it affects every single young person in our country,” President Obama told the conference.

I would amend that statement: Cyberbullying affects all people, not just the young.

Bullying spans generations: Forty-five-year-old bullies raise children who become 13-year-old bullies who grow up to be 28-year-old bullies. And here’s my “controversial” proposition: Kids aren’t the only ones who should be protected from them. Until we agree that cyberbullying is an absolutely unacceptable way to treat other people, the cycle of harassment will continue.

The government’s new Web site defines bullying as when someone uses strength or power to harm or intimidate those who are weaker. Online dynamics are such, however, that a handful of haters can become a mob and target anyone, regardless of age, economic status or “real-world” power.

“It goes beyond name-calling,” says 37-year-old A.B., a veteran blogger who has experienced the devastating effects of motivated online bullies. The hate insidiously wormed its way into her life. “What would make you stop?” she posted on her blog. Her bullies’ response: “Die.”

“People are like, ‘Oh, don’t read it,’” she says. “But how can you not stand up for yourself?”

Especially when no one else is.

One of my readers, Sara, described encountering nasty comments about herself online. “It killed me,” she says. “I was devastated. I felt it physically. I could literally feel the blood drain from my body every time I found a new one.”

Following someone around on the street while screaming insults at them would be considered, at least, crazy and, at most, criminal harassment. So why is it accepted online?

“All of us have an obligation to think about how we’re treating other people,” Obama said at an MTV forum in late 2010. “What we may think is funny or cute may end up being powerfully hurtful.”

We must go further. Internet companies have long brushed aside complaints about often-anonymous users who engage in personal attacks. “Not our problem,” seems to be their prevailing sentiment. Individuals cower behind anonymity, and because it can be difficult, time-consuming and costly to discover their true identities, they remain, ipso facto, exempt from libel and defamation laws.

Our government should step up and enact protections for citizens of all ages. A cyber police force doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. We can’t force people to like someone, but we can and should ensure that they don’t hurt others.

Julia Allison is a columnist, TV personality, public speaker and former Wired cover girl. Contact her at Socialstudiescolumn@gmail.com and follow her on Twitter at @Socialstudies and @Juliaallison.

Kenny Chesney

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by Joanie Cox and Dan Sweeney

THURSDAY 17: KISS
So you feel like going out tonight, but it’s St. Pat’s, and you’re not into wearing green so much as fake blood and face paint. Well, don’t fret, you weirdo; just join your fellow soldiers of the Kiss Army down at the Hard Rock. The hoary Kiss lands at Hard Rock Live in full regalia tonight, the final nonfestival appearance of the band’s Hottest Show on Earth tour. The tour initially ended in Guadalajara, Mexico, in October, but the group added a few dates in March to what has been a marathon event that began just before the 2009 release of Sonic Boom, the group’s first album in 11 years. Since then, Kiss, the members of which range in age from 50 to 61, have crossed the globe twice with multiple tour legs in North America and Europe. The band’s only breaks have come in January 2010 and the aforementioned months between the Guadalajara show and this brief run of concerts in March. The pace would be back-breaking for a group half Kiss’ age, which leads us to believe that either there’s somebody else wearing the makeup, or else the members of Kiss really are from a different planet. Probably the latter.
Location: Hard Rock Live, 5747 Seminole Way, Hollywood
Time: 8 p.m.
Cost: $75-$165
Contact: 800-745-3000 or Hardrocklivehollywoodfl.com

THURSDAY 17: KENNY CHESNEY
So you feel like going out tonight, but it’s St. Pat’s, and you’re not into wearing green so much as cowboy hats and Wranglers. Well, don’t fret, you hick. Kenny Chesney’s show in West Palm Beach will provide all the entertainment you need. Given that this generation’s Lynyrd Skynyrd is a rapper from Detroit (and a yeehaw to you, Kid Rock), there’s a sort of bent logic to the idea that our generation’s Jimmy Buffett is a country singer from Tennessee. Of course, that’s nothing new — Chesney has been nipping at Buffett’s heels since the beginning of the 2000s, when the release of No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem marked a sharp right turn from Chesney’s “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” work of the 1990s. Since then, the country-western star’s move into the Gulf-and-Western sound blazed by Buffett can be documented in album titles alone: All I Want for Christmas Is a Real Good Tan, When the Sun Goes Down, Just Who I Am: Poets and Pirates, Lucky Old Sun and his latest, last year’s Hemingway’s Whiskey. But really, the new Buffett being from Appalachia makes sense, and not only in the twisted-logic, Kid Rock is Southern kind of way. The Buffett-esque dream of passing out slowly while sitting under a palm tree and sipping rum from the bottle has always had more cachet with people who are unable to do that very thing on any given weekend.
Location: Cruzan Amphitheatre, 601-7 Sansbury’s Way, West Palm Beach
Time: 7 p.m.
Cost: $45-$95
Contact: 561-795-8883 or Livenation.com

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THURSDAY 17: DOPAPOD
So you feel like going out tonight, but it’s St. Pat’s, and you’re not into wearing green so much as tie-dye T-shirts and patchwork pants. Well, don’t fret, you hippie. The Funky Buddha will welcome the funky foursome of Dopapod for a rare southeastern appearance. The Boston-based band released its debut album, Radar, in 2009 to great acclaim and is currently working on new material even as it tours up and down the East Coast. On Friday night, the foursome will hit Miami’s Transit Lounge before heading back northward.
Location: The Funky Buddha Lounge, 2621 N. Federal Highway, Boca Raton
Time: 8 p.m.
Cost: $5
Contact: 561-368-4643 or Thefunkybuddha.com

SATURDAY 19: FOR THE LITTLE ONES
The Jack and Jill Children’s Center in Fort Lauderdale has helped more than 13,000 kids in need since it started in 1942. Tonight, you can contribute to its cause while enjoying local music and art. This party at the Bubble will feature the Coral Springs-based country-rock band Harvey and the Buckets, Fort Lauderdale folk rock-act Sweet Bronco and works by artists such as Jessica DeJohn, Blair Hess and Susan Buzzi. Live-painting, craftmaking and raffles for artwork and massages also will be available.
Location: The Bubble, 810 N.E. Fourth Ave., Fort Lauderdale
Time: 6 p.m.-midnight
Cost: $10-$25
Contact: 954-562-3804 or Independentworkingartistnetwork.com

SATURDAY 19-SUNDAY 20: JAZZ IN THE GARDENS
Jazz in the Gardens is already kind of a big deal, but a set by Lauryn Hill? That’s epic. At least, it could be, if Hill doesn’t keep the audience waiting three hours for her to appear onstage, play songs nobody knows or berate her fans for expecting her to act like a professional, all of which she did at shows earlier this year in St. Louis and Brooklyn. Even if she does repeat that diva act, her performance Saturday is sure to be memorable. (Her set is scheduled for 10:35 p.m., but, well, you know.) Saturday’s bill offers nine other, more-reliable soul and R&B entertainers, including Lalah Hathaway, Al Jarreau, Heads of State with Bobby Brown, Charlie Wilson and DJ Irie. The lineup on Sunday is even more impressive, with Branford Marsalis, Gladys Knight, En Vogue, El DeBarge and the Isley Brothers.
Location: Sun Life Stadium, 2269 N.W. 199th St., Miami Gardens
Time: 3 p.m.
Cost: $45-$70 each day
Contact: 305-623-6100 or Jazzinthegardens.com

That sentiment cuts to the heart of what it means to be Irish. Irishness is a long saga of heartbreak and tragedy. And in light of that, St. Patrick’s Day, and the ridiculous revelry involved, is more about an undying optimism for the future than a celebration of the status quo — a belief that what we, as Irish-Americans, have built in this country will stand for lifetimes to come when the land our forefathers left, as much as they loved it, gave them so much loss.

That, or it’s about getting piss drunk. Either way, it’ll be a hell of a time.
— Dan Sweeney

THE FIELD
One of the last Irish pubs in South Florida to regularly present bands that actually play — wonder of wonders — Irish music, the Field also throws an annual St. Patrick’s Day bash for people who understand the genre encompasses more than just the collected works of U2 and Van Morrison. Expect to hear a host of traditional reels and ballads, along with contemporary Celtic rock and folk, during this party that will take place from 11 a.m. Thursday to 2 a.m. Friday. The Field will present music on two stages by local act Celtic Bridge; Celtic Mayhem, a trio that may be familiar to fans of Florida’s renaissance festivals; and the Canadian duo Richard Wood and Gordon Belcher. If you don’t want to spend half the night watching the party from your car as you anxiously drive around searching for a parking space, arrive as early as possible. Given its small lot, parking at this pub can be as hopeless as reading James Joyce to a toddler. The Field is located at 3281 Griffin Road in Dania Beach. Call 954-964-5979 or visit Thefieldfl.com.

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JOHN MARTIN’S ST. PATRICK’S DAY STREET PARTY
If you abhor the color green, drunk people, the music of U2, drink tickets and long lines outside portable toilets, stay the hell away from downtown Coral Gables this Thursday night. Once again, John Martin’s Irish Pub and Restaurant will draw thousands of revelers along Salzedo Street and Aragon Avenue. At this annual event, the normally uptight Gables can resemble an open-air fraternity house, with puddles of beer and other, less-identifiable liquids pooling beneath the feet of questionably dressed partygoers, who crowd beer trucks and food vendors while Irish rock and pop bands perform nearby. Beginning at 5 p.m. and lasting well into the evening, this year’s event likely will be no different. Performers will include Paddy Kelleghan and the Rolling C’s, the Hard Liquor Band and UV — the U2 Tribute Show. John Martin’s is located at 253 Miracle Mile. Visit Johnmartins.com. And bring shoes you have no interest in ever wearing again.

KISS THE BLARNEY STONE
Held in the Paradise section of the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, this block party will begin at noon with a set by the authentic Irish band Avalon, featuring Tricianne Garrihy. The party will continue at Murphy’s Law with cover band Funkette, and the Guinness will flow until 4 a.m. with sets by the Swinging Richards and Ireland’s DJ Gary Malone. In addition to Irish cuisine and green beer, there will also be a “So You Think You Can Dance Irish” contest. Admission is free until 7 p.m. when a to-be-decided cover charge will go into effect at Murphy’s Law. Call 954-583-3250 or visit Seminoleparadise.com.

MAGUIRES HILL 16
The parking lot at this Fort Lauderdale pub will be tented for an outdoor celebration that kicks off at 8 a.m. with a traditional Irish breakfast. Corned beef and cabbage, Irish stew, shapherd’s pie, burgers and hot dogs will be served all day, and music on the outdoor stage will kick off at noon. Scorching fiddle player Paraic Keane and Mad Mission and Uproot Hootenanny will perform throughout the day, and at 7:30 p.m., music will go on inside the bar, with fiddler Randy and Blue Fire. At 8 p.m., blues guitarist Albert Castiglia will take the stage. Pipers and Irish step dancers will also perform throughout the day. Admission is $10. Maguires is located at 535 N. Andrews Ave., in Fort Lauderdale. Call 954-764-4453 or visit Maguireshill16.com.

SAVAGE CRAIC AT FADÓ
Fadó Irish Pub in Mary Brickell Village will open at 8 a.m. with pancakes and pints. At 11, after everyone is stuffed and soused, the venue will unleash bagpipers, Irish dancers, the appropriately named band Celtic Mayhem and U2 cover act the Picklebacks. The radio station Y100 will broadcast live from the party, which will take place on two levels of outdoor beer gardens. Admission is $10 after 5 p.m. and includes a chance to win a trip for two to the Guinness Brewery at St. James Gate in Dublin. Fadó’s owners promise the event will be savage craic (pronounced “crack”), an expression used to describe a great time out with friends. Fadó, a pub that was built in Dublin and re-assembled at its current location, can be found at 900 S. Miami Ave., Suite 200, in Miami. Call 786-924-0972 or visit Fadoirishpub.com.

ST. PADDY’S DAY BASH
Packy’s Sports Pub bills this event as its biggest party of the year. And that’s no empty boast: outdoor party tents, green beer, Irish food, bagpipers and the party band Bounce (9 p.m.-1 a.m.) are only some of its highlights. The festivities will begin at 10 a.m. at 4480 N. Federal Highway, in Lighthouse Point. Call 954-657-8423 or visit Packysportspub.com.

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ST. PATRICK’S DAY ON CLEMATIS
The 500 block of Clematis Street in West Palm Beach will be closed from traffic to accommodate the green-wearing folks who will gather for their annual dose of bagpipers, Irish dancers and Guinness. This year’s festival will include a 1:30 p.m. performance by Amadáns and Bodhráns (Amadán is Gaelic for “idiot”), a County Cork folk ‘n’ roll duo whose songs include “Big Strong Amadán,” “God Save the Amadáns” and “Folsom Amadán Blues.” A “wee” parade with an appearance by “St. Patrick himself” will begin at 3 p.m. O’Shea’s (531 Clematis St.) will serve corned beef and cabbage and bangers and mash, and Roxy’s Pub’s (309 Clematis St.) will present its third annual beer pong tournament and music by the Spazmatics (8:30-11 p.m.), a Tampa quartet that describes its music as high-energy new wave. Afterward, reggae band 4th Dimension will perform at Roxy’s 10@2 Saloon until 1 a.m. How Irish.

Julia Allison

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by Julia Allison

The tweeter’s age: 16 days. Profile description: “7.3 lbs. 21 inches. My name is Charlotte.” Hometown: West Bloomfield, Mich. Welcome @BabyBalanon, who at last count had 160 followers on Twitter, due in no small part to the infant’s outsize sense of humor.

“I wonder where my poo goes when I’m in here,” @BabyBalanon tweeted Jan. 20, when Charlotte was still in utero. “Starting a show called Real Babies of Oakland County. Oh no you di-int!” the account tweeted the following day.

You can almost hear the running internal dialogue, like a 2011 version of Bruce Willis’ narration in Look Who’s Talking. In fact, on Oct. 26, @BabyBalanon tweeted: “My internal voice sounds like Bruce Willis.” This was made even funnier by the fact that just five days earlier, “baby Bruce” had claimed, “I’m going to be a girl come March! My favorite movie is already The Notebook.”

“I didn’t want to become one of those people who frequently tweets about their kids (in this case, my unborn child),” Henry Balanon, an iPhone developer and dad of @BabyBalanon, explained to me in an e-mail shortly before the child’s March 1 birth.

His solution? A separate Twitter account — from the baby’s perspective. “That way, we can inject a bit of humor into it while still keeping our friends and family up to date on everything,” he says.

Oct. 24: “Still in the mommy-pod. Floating and dreaming. I wonder if this is how Neo felt pre-escape in The Matrix.”

Dec. 31: “My goal is to be born next year. And to walk and talk immediately.” And to surf the Internet, obviously.

While mommy bloggers are so 2005, dads have become the newest Twitterati. It’s the perfect solution for a father who wants to start bonding with his unborn child the same way he will after it arrives: in 140-character outbursts.

Tim Bograkos, a self-described “alumni-engagement samurai” at Michigan State University, does the tweeting for his unborn baby’s account, @BabyBograkos. “I plan on passing my social-media addiction down to my kid,” he says.

“In the past, people have done letters to their unborn child,” he adds. “And to me, this is the new form of that.”

The social-media savvy of these youngest tweeters won’t stop when they’re born, though. Balanon plans to set up a Facebook account for his progeny and probably a Tumblr blog. Plus, he says, “I have Balanon.com, so she can have a subdomain and e-mail address if she behaves.”

Bograkos is on the same page. “My baby will have all the social media that I have — Twitter, Facebook, blog,” he says. “Kids are being born into a collaborative world, and social media and technology will play a huge role throughout their educations and lives. Why not start them early?”

Of course, the genetic code of celebrities’ children includes Twitter from the moment of conception. Lance Armstrong set up an account for his youngest, @CincoArmstrong, when she was barely a zygote. Little “Cinco” (location: “on someone’s lap”) has nearly 4,300 followers. Starting in April 2010, she updated us on her development from the womb:

April 20: “I got 2 arms, 2 legs, a nickname, and I’m 2 inches long. See ya’ll in October.”

April 25: “I’m now the size of a lemon.”

May 4: “Now the size of an apple … and nobody knows if I’m a girl or boy! haha!”

Oct 17: “I’m ’bout ready to get outta here!”

And finally, Oct 18: “Well, I made it out! What’s happening? Sleeping.”

You can bet whenever someone uses social media in a new manner, some people will get upset. “It’s lame. Babies and animals don’t type,” wrote @JordanParkinson, raising the question: Would Charlotte the spider have tweeted from her web?

“Most people think it’s funny,” Bograkos says. “Everyone laughs when they realize they’re having a conversation with an unborn baby.”

Balanon adds: “I’m glad there are people who think it’s ridiculous. Because it is. It’s meant to be. I’ve heard things where people say that you take the authenticity out of the social network by misrepresenting someone else’s identity. To them I say, ‘@BabyBalanon says relax.’ ”

Balanon plans to show his daughter her tweets from the womb when she’s old enough to read them, hoping she’ll gain insight into her first months of life and appreciate her father’s humor. “I might even turn over the account to her,” he says. “If Twitter is still around, of course.”

“I think babies should use social media more,” he adds. “It will lead to world peace.”

Julia Allison is a veteran columnist, TV personality, public speaker and former Wired cover girl. Contact her at Socialstudiescolumn@gmail.com and follow her on Twitter at @SocialStudies and @JuliaAllison.

St. Patrick’s Day won’t take place until Thursday, March 17, but South Florida’s Irish community can’t wait that long to drown us all in green beer and shepherd’s pie. Beginning this Saturday, cities from Hollywood to West Palm Beach will host Irish festivals and parades, and they’ll continue partying until the holiday finally rears its Guinness-besotted head. Check this space next week for a list of day-of parties and events.

IRISH FEST ON FLAGLER

The Screaming Orphans (pictured above), four self-described music-obsessed sisters who left their dear old Donegal to bring their pop-rock quartet to New York, will be among the featured acts at Irish Fest on Flagler. Despite the name, they’re not a screamo band. A friend of drummer and lead singer Joan Diver proposed the name at a pub one night. The sisters found the moniker appropriate since striking out on their own as a band meant leaving behind their former lead singer (a.k.a. their mom) and their manager and sound engineer (their dad). They also attended school in a former orphanage and, like many people who come from big families, are accustomed to screaming to be heard. “I’ll scream a little louder until ya hear me/I’ll push a little harder so make room for me,” Diver sings in one song. The Screaming Orphans will perform 9 p.m. Saturday and 6 p.m. Sunday.

The sisters form just one of more than a dozen bands performing throughout the weekend. Others include the Prodigals, Seven Nations, The Young Wolfe Tones with Derek Warfield, and Irish Fest veteran Noel Kingston. Irish dancers will supplement all the mad drunken jigs that will take place after everyone has filled up on Guinness. Festival hours are noon-11 p.m. Saturday and noon-8 p.m. Sunday at Meyer Amphitheatre, 104 Datura St., in West Palm Beach. Admission is $5. Call 954-946-1093 or visit Irishflorida.org.

FINNEGAN’S WAKE

The shenanigans at Barrett’s Sly Fox Old Irish Pub will kick off about 6 p.m. Tuesday, when Tim Finnegan’s coffin (complete with a dummy that has a bottle of Jameson in its pocket) will arrive in a hearse with a police escort. Actors posing as the pope, a priest and a nun will follow the casket, along with weeping mourners (including a mysterious lady in black) and the Police Pipe and Drum Band. Once inside the pub, the coffin will be opened, an Irish tenor will sing “Danny Boy” and the mourning, singing, dancing and drinking will begin.

In true Irish-wake fashion, Finnegan’s farewell party will continue with “Practice Day” on Wednesday and roll right on through St. Patrick’s Day at 3537 N. Ocean Blvd., in Fort Lauderdale. Because they’re expecting a big turnout, the pub will set up extra bars, tables and chairs under a big tent. Call 954-383-2285.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADE AND FESTIVAL

Fort Lauderdale’s St. Patrick’s Day Festival will begin noon Saturday and feature live music, Irish step-dancers, bagpipers, Irish cuisine and a noon parade in which Wini Amaturo (as in the Amaturo Theater at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts) will serve as grand marshal. The parade — which will have more than 100 entries, including floats, high school marching bands, NYPD Pipe and Drum Corps, bagpipers and street performers — will progress from Southeast Eighth to Southeast First avenues along Las Olas Boulevard and end at Huizenga Plaza, where the party will continue until 9 p.m. Admission is free. Call 954-828-5985 or visit Ftlaudirishfest.com.

DELRAY BEACH ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADE

A party will take place before and after this annual parade, a tradition late pub owner Maury Power started 43 years ago. After moving from Chicago to Delray Beach, Power was disappointed by the city’s lack of St. Patrick’s Day celebrations. Egged on by friends and Irish whiskey, he strolled down Atlantic Avenue in a top hat and deemed it a parade — the first of many. Power died in 1996, but his parade marches on.

The party at Old School Square will begin 11 a.m. Saturday and the parade will run from 2 to 3:30 p.m. along Atlantic Avenue from Gleason Street to Swinton Avenue in Delray Beach. The after-party will feature Living on a Prayer: the Ultimate ’80s Tribute to Bon Jovi (3:30 p.m.) and Don’t Stop Believin’: A Tribute to Journey (5:15 p.m.). Admission is free. Call 561-279-0907 or visit Festivalmanagementgroup.com.

DOWNTOWN HOLLYWOOD ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADE AND FESTIVAL

The Hibernians of Hollywood have been presenting this parade for 13 years. It will begin 1 p.m. Sunday, but the party will get rolling at noon and will include corned beef and cabbage, shepherd’s pie, green drinks and music by Joe Dougherty (12:15 p.m.), Celtic Bridge (2:15 p.m.), Tricianne Garrihy and Avalon (3:15 p.m.) and UV: the U2 Tribute Show (4:40 p.m.)

The festivities will take place along Hollywood Boulevard, west of Young Circle between 18th and 21st avenues. The parade will start at 21st Avenue and Harrison Street and travel north to Hollywood Boulevard, east to Young Circle, south to Harrison and back to 21st Avenue. Admission is free. Call 954-921-3404 or visit St. Patricksparade.com.

Contact Colleen Dougher at cdougher@citylinkmagazine.com.

“Eye in the Triangle” by Balbone Martinez, a.k.a. Michael Balbone and Emily Martinez. To see more of their work, visit Balbonemartinez.com.

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by David Rosenberg

At 6 a.m., pick up your best friend, Christian, from the bus stop. Drive your dented, red Ford Ranger to 7-Eleven. Fill a coffee cup with four French-vanilla creamers, three packs of Equal and lukewarm hazelnut. Choose whatever eggwich looks the least-offensive under the orange bulbs. Get a box of Parliament and a pack of Zig-Zag. Pay the brain-dead cashier you’ve seen every day for the past two months who still stares at you with absolutely no recognition. Jump back in the cab of your truck with Christian, who’s already begun separating the pot. Toss him the papers, unwrap your breakfast and get high before another day of hauling garbage to the city dump.

Pull out of the parking lot way too stoned and play side one of Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. Wait for Christian to rap Dre’s lines in “Fuck Wit Dre Day” and then come strong with your part: “Bow wow wow, yippy yo, yippy yay/Doggy Dogg’s in the motherfuckin’ house.”

Turn right on St. James Road and wind your way into the parking lot of the Pax Amicus Castle Theatre. Wonder why the fuck Stan, the bite-size, flamboyant owner, bought a dilapidated cinder-block synagogue and turned it into a replica of a 15th century French chateau. Stroll through the front door and say hi to your girlfriend, who’s rehearsing the role of Lady Macbeth. Imagine she’s embarrassed that the rest of the cast sees her talking to the two stoners spending their summer cleaning out the theater. Try to kiss her, but watch her turn and walk away. Meander back to the loading dock and stare at 20 years’ worth of discarded sets, caved-in boxes, moth-eaten costumes and long-forgotten props. Ask Christian how it’s possible that the two of you have been doing this for two months and still not made any progress. Go outside and smoke more weed.

Bitch and moan about how you’re a better actor than any of those fucks in there and the only reason you didn’t audition is because you hate Shakespeare. Stumble back inside, put on your work gloves and begin dragging piles of junk outside to be broken down and hauled away. Crank up the radio and punctuate every beat with the crowbar, your preferred weapon of choice.

“And that’s realer than Real-deal Holyfield/And now you hookers and hoes know how I feel.”

Notice that Christian is wearing a Victorian dress he found in a box of costumes. Spend the next hour rapping, breaking, crushing and lifting. Rub your gunk-covered hands on the crusty, summer-soaked jeans you’ve been wearing for two straight months. Jump in the truck, flip over The Chronic and smoke another joint.

Drive stupid-stoned down the back roads of Budd Lake to the Mt. Olive Transfer Station. Pull onto the scale, sign the manifest and ask Betsy-in-the-booth if she’s done something different with her hair. When she tells you she’s wearing a new wig, try like hell to keep your shit together. Wait for the wooden arm to be raised and proceed with caution. Endure the acrid smell of hot, bubbling refuse wafting through the vents of your busted air conditioner.

“Bitches relax while I get my proper swerve on/Bumpin’ like a motherfucker ready to get my serve on.”

Back your truck into Bay 6, because Bays 1 through 5 are occupied by fully packed garbage trucks from surrounding townships. Begrudgingly pay Christian the dollar he just won for betting you that the dude manning the garage will be wearing the T-shirt emblazoned with the words Super Dirt Week, the same T-shirt he wears every day, but you still bet Christian because there’s no fucking way he’s gonna’ wear it again.

Walk to the back of the truck making sure not to slip on dirty diapers. Put on your gloves and drop the back gate. With all your might, fling whatever’s in the truck onto the trash pile looming in front of you. Call out potential targets and attempt to impress Christian with your mad skills. Make damned sure that when you hurl the moldy Equus head at the vomit-covered rocking chair, you hit it soundly so there’s visible damage. Otherwise, a discussion of how much you suck at aiming might ensue.

As you unload, chat about what you’d like to eat for lunch. Agree with Christian that while the Lucky Garden Chinese Restaurant is adequate, you aren’t in the mood for Chinese after seeing what appeared to be a dead dog’s ass peeking from beneath a bloodstained shower curtain. Settle on pizza at Enzio’s. Trade Super Dirt Week a cigarette for some Kleenex and blow the stink out of your nose. Kick the funk off your Israeli army jump boots — the ones that are so worn-out that you wear two pairs of socks so the tacks poking through the sole don’t hurt as much when they stab your bloodied heel. Hop back in the truck and return to the scale so Betsy can give you a printout of the difference in weight. Head to Enzio’s. Down two slices of pepperoni and guzzle a large Coke. Return to the theater. Smoke another cigarette, pull on a roach and get back to work. Load, dump, repeat.

On your final trip to the theater, spy your girlfriend standing under an oak tree with the longhaired guy who’s playing Macduff. Hear Christian say, “What the fuck?” as you both watch Macduff give your girlfriend a long hug. Suddenly, remember that the first prophecy of the three witches is “Beware Macduff.”

“Scooped in a coupe, Snoop we got news/Your girl was trickin’ while you was draped in your county blues.”

Skulk into the theater and collect the 80 bucks you cleared that day. Thank Stan for everything and tell him you quit. Return to the truck. Honk your horn and wave to your girlfriend as if you’ve seen nothing, but know she knows you did. Notice that Christian is staring hard at Macduff. Command him to heel. Help your girlfriend into the truck while she asks Christian if he wouldn’t mind riding in the bed. Gasp when your girlfriend reveals, just outside of Hackensack, that she and Macduff quickie-fuck in the loading dock during your trips to the dump. Tell her you’re moving out and that you hope she and Macduff are very happy, and how ironic you find it that they fuck in piles of trash. Get back to the house in Cliff Side Park that you share with your now ex-girlfriend. Throw some clothes into the truck and tell Christian you’ll drive him back to Manhattan. Take him up on his offer to crash with him and his girlfriend. Stay for two months.

While you sleep on the lumpy futon in their one-room apartment, be routinely awoken by muffled moans and hushed sex emanating from the bathroom. One night, hear shouting on the sidewalk. Realize that the argument is about you.

How you’re always in the way.

How you’re completely ruining their relationship.

How she refuses to live like this.

And as you spark up the chronic, suddenly remember what Snoop would do and softly begin rapping to no one.

“It’s like this, that and this and uh/It’s like that and like this and like that and uh/It’s like this, then who gives a fuck about those/So just chill, till the next episode.”

David Rosenberg grew up in Louisville, Ky., escaped to New York and migrated to Miami. He once broke up with a girl because she had never heard of Groucho Marx. To hear him read “Chronically Dumped,” visit Davidrosenbergdotcom.com.

For more Lip Service Stories, visit Lipservicestories.com. To submit a true, first-person story, e-mail submissions@lipservicestories.com.

Amber Leigh

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by Joanie Cox and Dan Sweeney

FRIDAY 11: SNOOP DOGG
It’s hard to fathom that A-listers such as Johnny Depp have performed at the quirky Broward County venue Club Cinema. Now, Snoop Dogg will join the “club” with a show there tonight. Snoop has a new album, Doggumentary, coming out March 29, on which he collaborates with Bootsy Collins, R. Kelly, T-Pain, Kanye West, John Legend and even Willie Nelson. While Snoop seems to fit better in the Magic City — where he’ll appear Thursday during a DJ set at Liv, we’re looking forward to seeing the Long Beach rapper do his “G Thang” in Pompano Beach.
Location: Club Cinema, 3251 N. Federal Highway, Pompano Beach
Time: 9 p.m.
Cost: $35; $59.50 for VIP; $99 for backstage VIP
Contact: 954-785-5224 or Clubcinema.me

SATURDAY 12: 9 MILE FESTIVAL
What was once the Bob Marley Caribbean Festival has been renamed for Bob’s birthplace, but that’s about the only thing that has changed. The lineup still features about half the kids Marley produced: Stephen, Damian, Julian and Ky-mani. It also features a few additional reggae acts, such as Inner Circle and Kevens. More noteworthy is the addition of acts that only could be called “reggae” in the loosest sense of the world. Pot-rock goofballs Slightly Stoopid are on the list, as is Major Lazer, the DJ duo of Diplo and Switch that blends reggae, hip-hop and other disparate influences into a danceable synthesis. Also hitting the decks will be DJ Hatcha, one of the guiding lights of the UK’s dubstep movement. And perhaps most noteworthy (to our tastes, anyway) is the presence of Thievery Corporation on the bill. The world-music-fusing collective puts on one of the best live shows we’ve seen.
Location: Bayfront Park, 301 Biscayne Blvd., Miami
Time: 1 p.m.
Cost: $58-$170, plus canned-food donations
Contact: Bobmarleymovement.com

SUNDAY 13: CALLE OCHO FESTIVAL
Calle Ocho is going caballero this year with a Kiss Country stage that will showcase local country acts such as David Ray and Amber Leigh. Also, in an effort to be eco-conscious, a few hundred recycling barrels will be added to the festival. But the 33rd annual Calle Ocho Festival would not be complete without a roster of Latin performers such as Hansel y Raul. Save room for delicioso paella and plantains and dance off the guilty calories at the best block party of the year.
Location: S.W. Eighth Street in Miami
Time: 11 a.m.-7 p.m.
Cost: Free
Contact: Carnavalmiami.com

SUNDAY 13: TO BE HATED RECORD RELEASE PARTY
In late 2009 and early 2010, Fort Lauderdale’s bastion of indie-music goodness, Radio-Active Records, held Sunday matinee shows featuring a lot of local talent, but especially Mr. Entertainment and the Pookiesmackers, the longtime Hollywood-based weirdoes responsible for the most-interesting, carnival-themed music South Florida has ever seen. This Sunday, the old matinees will make a comeback for the 7-inch vinyl release of “Banned in Dade County,” the new single by local hardcore-punk act To Be Hated. That group, as well as Mr. E. and the aforementioned Pookiesmackers, will perform, along with Peaz+Soup. DJ Skidmark will spin tunes between sets. It all should make for a much better Sunday afternoon than the usual Bloody Marys and bad eggs.
Location: Radio-Active Records, Gateway Shopping Center, 1930B E. Sunrise Blvd., Fort Lauderdale
Time: 2 p.m.
Cost: Free
Contact: 954-762-9488 or Radio-active-records.com

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TUESDAY 15: JACOB JEFFRIES BAND
We don’t often stick a local band in the Best Bets, and when we do, it’s usually opening for a national act. Indeed, on Saturday, the Jacob Jeffries Band will do just that, but as the national acts involved are Sugar Ray and the Gin Blossoms, we thought it best to direct your attention to the Jacob Jeffries Band’s headlining gig at Original Fat Cat’s in Fort Lauderdale’s Himmarshee Village. The performance is noteworthy for several reasons. First, the Jacob Jeffries Band is one of the best things on the local scene, Jeffries being one of the best songwriters in South Florida, backed by a killer group of musicians. Second, the Fat Cat’s performance is a rare chance for the Broward crowd to see the usually Miami-centric act. And finally, you may be able to catch a few of the tunes Jeffries and his cohorts are currently ironing out in the studio as the band records its third album (and first in three years), Tell Me Secrets. For all those reasons, this show, like Charlie Sheen, should be full of winning.
Location: Original Fat Cat’s, 320 Himmarshee St., Fort Lauderdale
Time: 11 p.m.
Cost: Free
Contact: 954-467-5867 or Jacobjeffriesband.com

Bright Eyes

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by Joanie Cox and Dan Sweeney

WEDNESDAY 02: BRIGHT EYES
Now that he’s gotten a little older, Conor Oberst seems to have outgrown the nigh-constant “he’s the next Dylan” pronouncements, which is a great thing for everyone involved. First off, no one is the next Dylan. Dylan is the only Dylan. Period. End of story. Second, it was never fair to Oberst, a truly great songwriter in his own right, to have his work overshadowed by the gargantuan footprints of a titan from another age. Free to be his own man, Oberst has truly shined over the past couple of years. His work with M. Ward and My Morning Jacket’s Jim James under the Monsters of Folk moniker was declared the album of the year in 2009 by none other than City Link’s own Dan Sweeney (a massively important endorsement, we know) and his first album in four years as Bright Eyes arrived in mid-February. The People’s Key finds Oberst in the modernistic vein of 2005’s Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, as opposed to the throwback, singer-songwriter side that occupies most Bright Eyes albums (see Cassadaga and I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning). That should make for a better concert experience in Miami Beach tonight, or at least a more-rowdy one. Cursive, an indie-rock band affiliated with Oberst’s Saddle Creek label, will open the show.
Location: The Fillmore Miami Beach, 1700 Washington Ave.
Time: 8 p.m.
Cost: $42
Contact: 305-673-7300 or Fillmoremb.com

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WEDNESDAY 02-SUNDAY 06: SOUTH BEACH COMEDY FESTIVAL
Any event in Miami Beach that requires people to not take themselves so seriously is a beautiful diversion. Comedy Central is bringing really funny people such as Adam Carolla, Wanda Sykes, Kathleen Madigan and Doug Benson. More than a dozen headliners will perform in addition to shows by Mad Cat Theatre Company. Here are some zingers from the performers to tide you over until show time:
Rachel Feinstein: “I’m having a hard time meeting somebody. I think it’s because there are so many princes out there. I don’t know which one to choose from.”
Sykes: “Why do you care that Bob and Jim are getting married, unless you were planning on fucking Bob or Jim?”
Benson tweeted this pickup line Feb. 22: “Foolproof way to pick up women: Run into a bar soaked in Gatorade and yell, ‘We won! We won!’ ”
Location: The Fillmore Miami Beach, 1700 Washington Ave. Additional locations include Colony Theater, New World Center, the Lincoln Road Free Stage, Backstage at the Fillmore and Gansevoort Hotel Miami Beach
Time: See Web site for various show times and venues
Cost: Shows range from free to $66.50; see Web site for prices
Contact: Southbeachcomedyfestival.com

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SUNDAY 06: FAT SUNDAY MARDI GRAS PARTY
Jesus, is it Mardi Gras again? Feels like just yesterday that we finally shook off the hangover from last year’s celebration. But no matter. It’s time once again to throw on some beads, check out some bands and drink like Prohibition kicks in tomorrow. In previous years, we’ve always headed to Hollywood Beach for our South Florida version of Mardi Gras. But this year, Fort Lauderdale’s Snyder Park will play host to some of the best local blues and roots musicians with its Fat Sunday celebration. (Yeah, yeah. We all know Mardi Gras is on Tuesday. But let the 9-to-5ers have some fun too, eh?) The band, billed as the Alligator Alley Allstars, includes Albert Castiglia, J.P. Soars, Dave Shelley, Jimi Fiano, John Yarling and Kilmo, the former proprietor of Floridian- and Cajun-themed restaurant Alligator Alley, which closed last year. Speaking of which, part of the proceeds from this event will help finance the opening of a new Alligator Alley, which no doubt will be bigger and better. And even if it isn’t, anyplace will do as long as we can have Kilmo’s gumbo again. The bassist/gumbo master will serve up his stuff at the party, along with burgers, hot dogs, pulled pork, beer and cocktails.
Location: Snyder Park, 3299 S.W. Fourth Ave., Fort Lauderdale
Time: 11:30 a.m.-5 p.m.
Cost: $10 donation includes a beer or soda and a burger or dog. (Don’t be a dickhead. Donate.)
Contact: 754-234-3865 or Alligatoralleyflorida.com

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TUESDAY 08: FISHBONE
With the return of trumpeter Walter Kibby last year after a seven-year hiatus, ska-reggae-funk-soul-punk-metal weirdoes Fishbone have a surprisingly consistent lineup for a 32-year-old band. (Side note: Oh, my Sweet Jesus, how is it possible that Fishbone is 32 years old?) Bassist Norwood Fisher and saxophonist/ringmaster Angelo Moore have remained in the band since its founding, and the drum and guitar slots that seemed to constantly rotate members in the band’s ’80s and ’90s heyday have settled firmly behind John Steward and former Suicidal Tendencies guitarist Rocky George. Although Fishbone hasn’t released an album since 2006’s Still Stuck in Your Throat (which was, in turn, its first album in six years), a new record has been promised for later this year. But that doesn’t mean the group has been inactive. Last year, it issued the film Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone, which first screened at the Los Angeles Film Festival in June and is now making its way through the global film-festival circuit. This week alone, the film screens at festivals in Auckland, New Zealand; Fargo, N.D. and Arlington, Va. Local hip-hop collective ¡Mayday! will open the show.
Location: Grand Central 697 N. Miami Ave., Miami
Time: 8 p.m.
Cost: $15
Contact: 305-377-2277 or Grandcentralmiami.com

TUESDAY 08: KID ROCK AND JAMEY JOHNSON
In 2009, Jamey Johnson opened for Willie Nelson at Hard Rock Live in Hollywood, and now, the new outlaw of country is back to open for Kid Rock (though we think this show should be billed the other way around). Kid Rock, who turned 40 in January, proved he could evolve from “Bawitdaba” after his 2007 release, Rock N Roll Jesus. And perhaps it’s even time to forgive Pamela Anderson’s ex-hubby for his cover of “Sweet Home Alabama,” since he has one of Alabama’s finest natives on tour with him. Johnson will perform Southern singles such as “High Cost of Living” and “The Dollar.” On a recent set list for the Born Free tour, Johnson also covered Nelson’s “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys,” so we can keep our sticky whiskey fingers crossed he will repeat it at this show. Fellow blue-collar rocker Ty Stone also will perform.
Location: Hard Rock Live at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, 5747 Seminole Way, Hollywood
Time: 8 p.m.
Cost: $46-$66
Contact: 954-797-5531 or Hardrocklivehollywoodfl.com