Yeah, I'm Irish. Which is not that big of a deal as I learned when I visited Ireland for the first time several years ago. American Irish are not the same as real Irish, I learned, and you really have to prove your heritage to get in the Irish club.
Well that aside, I've always been proud of my Irish heritage and I celebrate St Patrick's Day with gusto. What? I hear you scoffing. I know I hate most holidays, but I love the day when I get to don Kelly green and drink Guinness (more on that in a sec) and celebrate my Celtic roots.
Some of my best childhood memories are listening to my mom's records of Irish drinking songs and eating her homemade corned beef and cabbage.
And I do my part to be proudly Irish. When I was in Dublin, I magnanimously shagged a barely legal jailbait Irish boy and drank my weight in Guinness.
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| Irish jailbait I shagged. Just doing my part. |
See, on my mom's side, I'm a McGinnis and if you know anything about history, the English persecuted the Irish, clans split, potato famine, blah blah blah, all the different names (and diff spellings) go back to the same main families and basically I deserve some claim to the Guinness family fortune. Or at least a lifetime supply of the best beer ever brewed.
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| good Irish girls nuzzle their Guinness |
Every March the 17th, I don my favorite green shirt.
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| but it's MISSING! someone put out an APB! |
And my traveling hat (purchased in Dublin and has traveled with me to every country and state I've been to).
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| my traveling hat |
So today, expect to find me in a pub somewhere, singing drinking songs, wearing my traveling hat and some other shirt because my damn lucky shirt is missing, and getting ridiculous on Guinness.
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| Slainte! |
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