Oh, St. Patrick’s Day…

8 03 2009

st-patricks-day-thumb1912992… how I hate you. Mostly based on my mother’s reaction to it. I just remember her saying that I was more Irish than the people who think the are “Irish” were. And for the most part, she’s 99% correct. See, my mother’s family is Irish. Not a family who arrived here oh, so long ago, and raised their family here like most “Irish” people on St. Patrick’s Day. But really Irish. As in my Nana and Granda were born there. As were my two uncles and my aunt. Shortly before my mother was born, the family picked up and moved to Glasgow, Scotland. So in reality, I am a first generation Scotch-Irish (more on the Irish) and French-Canadian (more on the Canadian) American.

And everyone who thinks they are Irish because some family member came here oh-so-many years ago, I am more Irish than you are. Believe me. How do I know? Because I despise the way people react to this one day a year.Saying you are Irish, does not mean you should or can drink as much as you weigh.

For the past 7 years, this coming Saturday will be the 8th straight, I have worked the daylight shift at My Living Room on St. Patrick’s Day Saturday. The day of the parade. We’re not busy for a while. But all of a sudden, the you-know-what hits the fan. It gets so bad that my shift, the 11am – ? shift, which usually ends around 6 or 7 pm, ends at oh, somewhere between 8 & 10pm. And we’re so busy that we can’t even reconcile a cash register drawer. We’re lucky to get out with our tips in hand and hope our drawer ends up straight.

I can’t tell you how many people come in and ask, “Are you Irish?” No, I’m not. Those green eyes and super-duper pale skin are just for FUN. And the sunburns in the summer? Also for fun. I may not be a redhead, but good lord, did I get all the Irish my mom had to pass along. My sister? Not so much.She got more of my dad when it comes to it. (However, I’m sure if the two of us were ever seen on St. Patrick’s Day by a bunch of drunkards, they’d think they stumbled into Irish heaven. Just sayin’)

Knowing my job, and how to make money at it when I need or have to… or on days like this, when it rolls in… I dress the part. So I’ll probably get a haircut Friday night, to tame my curls a bit. (And cause Florida does NOTHING for my hair. Ever.) And I’ll wear green. And if you can’t see those Irish Eyes at that point, well, you’re too drunk to wait on.

Good luck next Saturday y’all. I hope we all make it through in one piece. And of course, all of my friends are welcome to stop in and say hi. Just be sober enough to not make the nice Claire angry. Cause after this weekend, there’s no way I’m showing up at My Living Room NOT angry.

Again, Good Luck, y’all.

I only added that song for those of us who missed the show last week. And for “my” Danny, with whom I intend to share this blog with tonight. Yes, my rugby friends, I’m sharing it with him. After I saw his response to my email today about my blood issues, I think I gained a new-found respect for him supporting the bar. Love it. Thank you, Danny.




3 responses

9 03 2009
Uncle Crappy

As one of those people who claims Irish heritage based on connections that occurred generations ago, I am horribly, deeply offended by this post. And I can say there’s no way Mrs. Crappy and I will be stopping by the bar on Saturday to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

Instead, we’ll probably stop by so we can check out your haircut. See you then. 😉

9 03 2009
Fonda Bruises

Well, I will try to stop in and meet you finally. I won’t be drunk, I promise you, I will not only be on roller skates, but I have to drive an hour to get home!

9 03 2009

Somehow, I don’t think that you or Mrs. Crappy are the type of people I’m referring to. Just sayin’. 99% of the people I know or am friends with don’t fall into that category.

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