Friday, March 17, 2006

Ba mhaith liom Guinness*

Cad é mar atá tú?** I can't say I'm at my best. Due to the fact that I've spent the day working -- instead of drinking Guinness and watching parades and being packed shoulder-to-shoulder into a pub and listening to folk music and hearing people speak in horrible fake Irish accents and laughing and singing -- I am incredibly short-tempered.

Yes, I know it's amateur night, but that's part of the fun to me. I love me some St. Patrick's Day, man. Give me corned beef and cabbage. Give me green Mardi Gras-style beads. Give me green beer. Paint shamrocks on my face. Sing "Wild Rover" again. Why the hell not? Remember last year when an 87-year-old woman stole my beer? How can you not love St. Patrick's Day?

But instead I SPENT THE FUCKING DAY AT WORK. I had planned to silently protest my being stuck in the office by bringing in my wee camera and videoing myself drinking Guinness at my desk. But almost intuitively, my wife on Tuesday had a little talk with me about my not going out of my way to do things that will get me fired.

So, instead, I just sat and fumed. Were I the Lord Our God, huge swathes of this great nation would now be smoldering in the wake of my Guinness-deprived wrath. Blogger especially has been fueling my rage. I keep getting a message that says: "There were errors." That would be good on a T-shirt, but it's not what I want to see when I realize that I've written "Happy St. Patrick's Day" incorrectly and want to change it before someone points out what a damned fool I am.

Meh. There's no reason for me to be this upset. I'll be in Dublin on Wednesday. And each moment of sobriety is another moment that gives me a fighting chance of running well in Sunday's 8K. Last year, my hangover lasted for two full days.

Plus, being at work gave me a chance to dabble in learning some Irish, which is one of those things I keep telling myself I'm going to start doing but then I don't. One day I will speak all the Celtic languages fluently. How I expect to make money doing this, I haven't a clue, but I'm now well on my way. I can tell you in Irish who I am and I can ask how you're doing. And the best part is, I taught myself to do it at work; I was paid to learn how to say, "Tá fearg orm mar mhúscail an guthán mé."***

*I would like a Guinness.

**How are you?

***I'm angry because the phone woke me.

4 comments:

tuckmac said...

I feel for you... I really do.

I'm a bit different, as I don't "do" Amateur Night in Irish Pubs... (Went to Kieran's last night) and I'll be going out tomorrow (as the pubs are empty)...

But I've hit a few pubs this afternoon, and I bought a shed-load of Guinness, and am going to be sitting around the house drinking Guinness and watching bad Irish films (with fake accents) and listening to some good Irish Music.

Have fun tonight!

-- Tuckmac

Lucy said...

Taim go maith, seanfhear. Wow, you're really speaking my language man.

Nikki said...

Lá fhéile Padraig sona duit (belatedly)!

Randomly stumbled upon your blog. As someone who is currently taking Irish in school, I too am wondering if it's ever going to earn me any money besides enabling me to sweet talk leprechauns out of their overflowing pots of gold.

Hilarious blog by the way.

Sláinte!

Dave Morris said...

I was totally prepared to spend the evening at McGurk's, about a mile from here. However, when I left to head to McGurk's, the line to get in was wrapped around the side of the building, into the parking lot.

Forget it. I went for sushi. I'm such a bad Irishman. (even if I'm only like 10 percent Irish)