“Top o’ the F***in’ Mornin’ to Ya!”

March 17, 2008 at 12:15 pm (Drunk and disorderly, The Easy Chair)

Got your Irish on yet?

It’s that time of year when everyone becomes a leprechaun for a day. Or, as the Irish and the alcoholic call it, amateur night.

I have a friend named Rusty, whose last name is even more Irish than that. We always greet each other with the phrase “Top o’ the fuckin’ mornin’ to ya!” It started one St. Paddy’s Day, when people wouldn’t stop asking us if we were Irish. It stuck, and has caused embarrassment at work. One day I was expecting him to call me right back and answered the phone that way. The little old lady on the other end was shocked. I hung up quickly and played dumb when she called back.

Being a redhead of Irish and Scandinavian descent, I get a lot of stupid questions, usually from well-meaning drunk people. Please keep in mind; I’ve been asked that before, I’m at work, and I’m not as drunk as you are. I can only fake the laugh so many times. And don’t ask me to speak with a brogue; I’ll smack you with my shalleleigh.

I rarely drink on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s like New Years when you are an alcoholic. If I’m drinking, those who usually don’t are bringing unwanted attention to my habit. I don’t want another roadblock to skirt around, or the extra security scrutinizing my behavior. I work hard to fly under their radar, and it’s too hard to maintain under that kind of pressure. I usually skip that day, or drink at home.

But since I’m not drinking, and have to work, guess I’ll make the best of it.

It’s my brother-in-law’s birthday, which explains why he’s named Patrick. (I wonder if there are any Mexicans named Columbus?) I just shouted a “Happy birthday, you old goat!” out the window at him. He flipped me off. Status quo.

What did I get my Mexican brother-in-law with the Irish name for his birthday? He requested The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I don’t think our household has ever been so racially balanced.

St. Patrick’s Day is a religious holiday, you know. Patrick (Saint, not old goat bro-in-law) introduced Christianity to Ireland without force of violence. That stuff about driving the snakes out of Ireland? It’s amazing what a shot of Jameson and a couple pints of Guinness will do to chase the DTs away. St. Paddy had a fondness for the spirits, both ethereal and liquid.

And now, I must head to the center of the city to watch people dressed in plastic derbies and shamrock-patterned shirts, whose liquid lunch started around noon, stumble around in a bellicose stupor. Fun times.

Take note of the green watchband. Technically I’m wearing green. So unless you are a very cute girl, pinch me and I’ll stuff a leprechaun up your ass!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. Behave yourselves…

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