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2004-03-17 @ 4:26 p.m.
if you're Irish and you're drinking clap your hands

Not sure why, but this is my homage to "Schindler's List" know that little girl with the red coat. Anyhoo...

Ok, I'm Irish.

That's off my chest. Both of my Dad's grandparents came from Ireland. My mom is French Canadian mixed with some other country....Obnoxiouslandia, I think. So I just generally refer to myself as Irish, because I am a poster girl for Ireland.

Light skin with freckles, blue eyes, dark hair, pretty much your basic Irish colleen. And I like being Irish. I don't always like some of the things associated with it like the depression, and the alcoholism (I only have one of them, fortunately), but I do like some of the other things like writing ability, an absurd sense of humor, rosy cheeks, and the fact that we gave the world "Riverdance" (cough).

Oh and lest we forget we can proly beat da livn' daylights out of any last one-a ya bahstards out in bahk of the pub! (that was my attempt at an Irish accent in print -- how did it go? Not so good? Ok, we'll let Spellcheck have its fun).

We, of course, also have the leprechaun thing. What the hell is a leprechaun? I mean it had to be something made up by some poor bloke stumbling out of a pub at 2 a.m. right?

Thar' was a tiny wee man right thar'. And he waved his shallaighlee at me, he did.

Ok. If you say so. And my question is, where the hell are all the girl leprechauns? They didn't just spring up from under shamrocks did they?

My landlord's yard is full of cement leprechauns. It looks like a Lord of the Leprechauns convention. But nary a Lass. Where are they all, out selling Tupperware shamrocks on E-Bay?

Today is kind of a special day in the History of Witty Kitty and Married Guy. And its not surprising its National Irish Day, since we both have Irish blood coursing through our veins.

One year ago today, I told him I loved him for the first time.

Yikes, was that ever scary. Unlike today, which is snowing, it was a beautiful Spring day last year, and I had an appointment for a massage and I showed up in a really pretty green embroidered jumper and a white creamy romantic blouse, looking very Irish.

A month earlier Married Guy had written I love you on a birthday card. Whether it was the real I love you, or just a friendly I love you, it produced alot of tumultuous feelings in me. I never responded to it or even acted like it happened. I was actually frozen in fear. Why? Because he was and still is married.

So last year on St. Patrick's Day I went in for a massage. It was a nice one. And in the last 10 minutes I finally got up the courage to mention the card and what he had said in it. I was totally quivering inside.

I told him the massage was really nice. And that the birthday card he had gotten me was really nice. And what he had written inside of it was really nice too. Gulp.

And then he kind of tilted his head slightly and said, "Oh, you'll have to remind me what I said..."

Dork. OK, I deserved that since I never acknowledged it. But, hey I was scared. And we won't even begin to go into what "A" was saying during this month.


Married men should not say these things to vulnerable single women, especially when they clearly have feelings for you.

So then I said, "Well, you wrote in my card...the I love you. thing"

And then he said, "Well, I do." And then he started grinning from ear to ear and said, "I have been sweating it so much in the last month." And then I told him I loved him too, and before he left the room we had our first kiss.

It was no great passionate thing. Just a brushing of lips. delicate. kinda sweet. I felt so warm. And loved, which is such a rare thing for me. I don't usually "let" anyone love me.

But in true Married Guy form, he just kind of plowed through all 350 of my emotional barriers, like a runaway semi, coming to an abrupt stop at the front door of wittykitty's heart, and reduced me to a worthless pile of love goo. What can I say?

Is our relationship right? No. He's married. Should I be vesting all my emotional energy into something that is obviously hopeless from the word go? No. Am I a frooking Irish idiot? Most definitely. But what can you do?

There sure ain't any logic where love in concerned. You can bet the shamrock farm on that. But we all fall under its spell sooner or later. If you fall for the "right" person, whoever that is, great. Lucky you. But define "right".

Is "Married Guy" the right guy for me? I'm not totally sure of that either. He has a fierce temper, which I find a little scary and I'm not sure if I could be a good mother to his children. Oh....and most importantly...

He's married dipshit.

Yeah, I keep forgetting that part.

So anyways, last night I was looking for a nice Irish saying to send him for St. Patrick's Day today, and came across this one:

You love your mistress the most, your wife the best and your mother the longest.

Woo. NOOOO. Of course I didn't send him that one. I was going to send that to "A" and ask his advice...hey, should I send this to Married Guy? heh, heh. Bad Irish Girl, bad.

I'm already in trouble as it is for just for living in the same area code with Married Guy.

So I decided on this one:

Dance as if no one's watching,

sing as if no one's listening,

and live everyday as if it were your last.

I thought that was a nice one, and on that note, HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty