Ok, so first of all, you know should that I HAAAAAAAATE St. Patrick’s Day. It is just not for me.
I read a quote last weekend in the New York Times Book Review which I had to cut out and stick in my day planner because it cut right to the chase of who I am:
“Adult personality is forever defined in opposition to one’s natural enemies in high school.”
Which is just such genius and explains SO DAMN MUCH of my personality! This is why I get so annoyed at the merest whif of the idea that playing high school sports makes someone a better or more worthy person. This is why I can’t stand A Prayer for Owen Meany. And I went to catholic high school and every other girl there was named Colleen and hot damn did everyone get het up about St. Patrick’s Day, and so one can assume that maybe this is why I hate March 17th so darn much. Although I am a big fan of drinking and there was plenty of that going on, so there may be a few holes in my theory, but there you go. Faulty logic is one of my best talents.
Anyway. I am already crabby because of the stupid holiday, but regardless, the goddamn American Lung Association has gone and gotten on my last frigging nerve. Because seriously? A long long long time ago someone I know was doing a fund raiser for them and so I kicked in some cash at her request and ever since then? OH MY GOD. They call here ALL THE TIME. And dudes, my husband is furloughed, so my donations to charities have been a bit slim of late, which I would be happy to tell them, except that when I answer the phone AT EIGHT FORTY FIVE IN THE MORNING TO TELL THEM TO CRAM IT UP THEIR POOP CHUTE THEY HANG UP ON ME before I even hear a person’s voice. Grrrrrr.
And furthermore. If I was going to donate money, which I am not, I wouldn’t donate it to them. I certainly wouldn’t donate it to them when they call me at EIGHT FORTY FIVE IN THE MORNING AND THEN HANG UP ON ME after having phone stalked me for weeks earlier, but even if they weren’t so totally obnoxious, I give my charity dollars to Special Olympics and then charities that feed children, and at this point even if I became a BILLIONAIRE I wouldn’t give these jerks one red cent.
Seriously, it’s making me want to take up smoking.
P.S. Even though I hate this holiday with a fiery hot passion, I still dressed Eli in a green polo shirt for preschool. I MUST FOLLOW THE RULES! Even when I hate them! Seriously, people, I need help.
P.P.S. My friend Sarah and I just invented an app that is some kind of button or something that you install on your phone and when someone calls that you don’t want to talk to, they just hear “Unprintable!” in their ear. Someone please uh, code this or write this or whatever computery thing has to be done, and let’s make a million dollars. Which I will not be donating to the American Lung Association.
P.P.P.S. In some attempt to add some levity to my most hated holiday ever and to, I don’t know, triumph over adversity or something, I wished Eli a happy St. Patrick’s Day. He had no idea what I was talking about and also doesn’t pay much attention even on the best of days, so I had to keep repeating it louder and louder until finally, in the loudest, most excited voice EVER, he said “TODAY IS BATTERY DAY???!!!!!”. Needless to say, next year we’ll be celebrating this.
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