Drunk Me, I'm Kiss

Woo hoo! Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. A day to celebrate Irish heritage? Sure it is, but I think you know better. It's a day for every Tom, Dick and Bridget to put on green clothes and drink themselves into a widely accepted stupor. Across the land, bars that only last week were playing country music on the jukebox and calling people who drink Guinness "book readin' girly men" will be transformed into "Irish pubs. Parade routes will be clogged with revelers looking for a place to vomit, pee, or a combination of both, and lasses wearing tight green shirts and "Kiss me I'm Irish" buttons will shed not only their inhibitions but their dignity, as they practice the rhythm method on the hood of a car. 'Tis a great day for the Irish.

I don't mean to be a stick in the mud. I've had my share of St. Patrick's Day fun. One year I was enjoying myself so much that I thought it would be a good idea to replace my ear ring (it was a long time ago, the 80's made us all do weird things) with a shamrock shaped Budweiser lapel pin. Hey, a hole is a hole right. The pints I had inhaled helped numb the pain. Sure it impressed some young Colleens at the pub, but the person who benefited the most was my doctor after charging me an arm and a leg for the anti-biotic to kill the infection I got from my inebriated accessorizing. I also have availed myself of an occasional alley and even had some luck while dressed as a leprechaun. Don't ask.

This year, like the last few will be a little more tame. "Wife", "Daughter" and I will be having lunch at our favorite Irish bar. It's pretty authentic for being located behind a wing joint in the Chicago suburbs. They are promoting "family friendly" activities during the day. Sounds like a blast. That just mean the soccer moms will try to manage their buzz until the brats can be put to bed before they try to kiss every one's Blarney Stones. I'll have a couple pints and a nice corned beef sandwich, but since I have to do the big show on WGN (1-5 am Sunday morning, in case you forgot) I will show some rare restraint.

Hearing so much Irish music this week makes me want to learn to play the bag pipes. Every time I hear them, I am filled with woe. Nothing is more depressing than the bagpipes, and yet, I can't get enough of them. I can just picture my neighbor's reaction when they hear me on the patio practicing. It will sound like I'm slaughtering goats. The joy that will bring may be enough to erase the woe. Maybe I'm drawn to the pipes because once I master them, I'll get to wear a kilt. I know I could wear a skirt now if I wanted to, but it's not as socially acceptable. I would wear my kilt every day, not just during parade season. I may go commando, I'm not telling. I will say I enjoy a nice breeze. Last year i saw a couple of biker guys wearing dirty kilts. they looked pretty tough. If you can wear a skirt and still look like a bad ass, that's saying something.

So go out and enjoy the day. If you're not Irish, I don't care. It's said that there are two kinds of people in the world, the Irish and those who wish they were. Let your wish come true for a day. Just rinse out your mouth if you want me to kiss you. Have a great weekend. Happy St. Patrick's Day! Later...Brian