Erin go Blah  

Ahhhh, St. Patrick's Day. A day as unceremonious as can be; in celebration of fleeing snakes, arbitrary pedophilic religious figureheads, and a country whose extended timeline of suffering balances precariously between homebrew terrorism and diseased potatoes. Then again, it's hardly any less confusing than eating ham and searching for rabbit eggs to reflect upon the zombification of Jesus.

I think we should just call this holiday what it really is -- an excuse to go out and get housed because you're going to murder large groups of people if spring doesn't hurry it's ass along. That would understandably need to be shortened for the sake of calendar space. The same could easily be done for New Year's Eve and Fourth of July as well; simply swap out the reason for getting housed to "because explosives are legal today."

Back to St. Patrick's Day. Being half Irish should somehow make the day more tolerable for me, but no dice. A major hurdle I can't seem to get over is the notion of wearing green. It gives off too similar of a "Aloha Shirt Friday" vibe for me. Yet if I refuse to participate, random people pinch me. That part isn't really too awful, but I also spend a lot of time on public transportation, so being groped by random people is hardly a new experience for me.

The worst of it is that I won't even be able to fully immerse myself in the true (liquid) spirit of the holiday, it's only redeeming quality. Two out of the last three St. Paddy's fell on the weekend, allowing for the kind of observance that can only come with peak inebriation. No such luck this year. Between working multiple commitments, I've overextended myself to the point that I'll need to not only do some work tonight, but rise for me labours in the wee morn' of the 'morrow like a fresh shepherds pie. There will of course be the obligatory corned beef and cabbage tonight, courtesy of my very understanding wife, along with a solitary beer to pay my respects to the motherland. However, the motherland is pretty damn far away, which means I'll need a fairly large beer. That and Christie doesn't drink beer or Irish whiskey, so I'll need to have one to oblige her ancestors as well. Hmmm. I think I can already see where this is going. If I end up posting a set of pictures tonight that feature me in nothing but shamrock nipple pasties, I guess you'll know what happened.

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13 Reasons to Live

  • Chris  
    March 17, 2009 at 4:37 PM

    Housed rhymes with soused which is what I am this very minute. Here's to you having some gellied eel and a pint or three!

  • Lizzle  
    March 17, 2009 at 7:55 PM

    May the sun always shine on your flat, white, half-irish arse, and may the shamrock pasties always easily release the nipple hair when bring removed.

  • Kelly  
    March 18, 2009 at 8:19 AM

    Go Christie with the corned beef! I would never know how to do that! Good thing my husband's a Sweed (sp?) and one of the evil Dutch. All I need to know how too cook for him is Swedish Fish and Belgain waffles! Yeah processed food!

    Sometimes I take him to Ikea, we call that his motherland.

  • Anonymous  
    March 18, 2009 at 8:47 AM
    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
  • Anonymous  
    March 18, 2009 at 8:49 AM

    I had a typo, and I hate typos. So, I had to delete and comment again. Yes, the OCD has gotten that bad.

    My previous comment:
    It is nice that she did all that cooking for you. And even let you do extra drinking on her behalf? I think she totally earned that movie and poster. Just sayin. ;-)

  • Christie  
    March 18, 2009 at 10:00 AM

    Thank you, Kelly! I feel I totally deserve it, too.

  • Anonymous  
    March 18, 2009 at 7:43 PM

    sweat pants really? I would but can not... I love that you leave me sporatic comments. I guess I do that too...

    Oh what you must think of me!! Do you make fun of my post? Do you roll your eyes at my girliness? I wonder what does genius pending think of my post....

  • Anonymous  
    March 18, 2009 at 7:45 PM

    btw love nachos. Have you ever eaten at moe's southwestern grill?

  • the projectivist  
    March 19, 2009 at 4:28 AM

    oh Kelly, how i larrfed!
    ikea the homeland!
    i think the Dutch are a lovely lot.
    plus i love their meatballs.

    Jay, i hope you were nice to Christie after she slaved away over the beef? Does she drink champagne? not very Irish, but still...

  • Candy's daily Dandy  
    March 19, 2009 at 6:03 AM

    So, I'm wondering where the promised photo's of the shamrock nipple pasties are??

  • Becky  
    March 19, 2009 at 10:38 AM

    I've never really celebrated St. Pat's Day, but we've made some friends here in Seattle that are and they do a corned beef, cabbage and beer get-together each year -- which I'll never turn down.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog the other day and for your comment.

  • Anonymous  
    March 20, 2009 at 7:53 AM

    I am SO wearing shamrock pasties to work for St. Pat's next year. And nothing but. Because I miss unemployment.

  • Ryan  
    March 23, 2009 at 6:56 AM

    2 Things:

    I'm convinced the main purpose of St. Patrick's day is to keep food on the tables of Irish bands that are not U2.

    That Bon Jovi site is 10 kinds of radical.

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