I wanted to create a whole new category to put this post in, and I would call it, Very Reasonable Crankiness Indeed! because I think I am thoroughly justified in overthrowing God and all the saints after what has happened. And now I will relate it to you.
Last night I did a thing that wasn’t terribly smart, which was to give my best shot at opening the door and walking through it simultaneously. If this had worked, it would have been an absolutely prodigious display of smoothness and grace; but actually what happened was I walked straight into the door with my face, and all around my eye puffed up a lot (but there was no one around to see), and I thought: Oh well, I will have a really magnificent bruise in the morning. That’s what I thought.
But did I? No. I do not have a bruise this morning. Not even vague discoloration, so I can’t even corner people and force them to stare really hard at my eye until they notice the slightly purple tinge to it. It is totally normal looking. It makes me angry because MY FACE HURTS, and people should know about it. Damn it.
On a cheerier topic, Steve and I had a nice dinner last night at the home of a nice Irish girl he carried groceries for and her friends. (That sentence did not work out as well as I think it might have.) She said “youze” and other Irish things, and her Irish friend, upon hearing that I was interested in Oscar Wilde, said, “Bit of a batty boy, wasn’t he?” and although I did not know what that meant, it is usually pretty safe to assume, when you mention Oscar Wilde to people and they say he was a something you do not catch or do not understand, that the something means Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay. And I was quite right.
Also, here is an Interesting Fact for you: Lithuanians have a very bad reputation in Ireland. They are supposed to be shiftless and lazy, in sharp contrast to the Poles, who are hard-working upright citizens whom Ireland is glad to have immigrate to them. It’s true. All three of the Irish people present confirmed this.
Also, do not tell Irish people that you are Irish (I didn’t because I knew better). They do not like it. People in Britain do not want people in America to have European ancestors, even though that is in many cases inevitable.
4 comments:
I so know how horrible that is! I used to every now and then whack my ankles with the scooter, and it would hurt so much that I’d have to stop and sit down, and feel to make sure it wasn’t broken, but did it ever have even the HINT of a bruise?
no.
That is indeed extremely reasonable crankiness. Pain should SHOW in vivid bruise colors!
I don’t understand why people in Europe hate it so much when we say we’re of Irish descent. We are. What’s the big problem? Yes, we are Americans, but American’s are from all over the world; we don’t even have an official language!
I don’t think the problem is as much that American’s claim to be of Irish descent. It’s more that American’s say “Oh! I’m Irish, too!” but really we were not born in Ireland and have never really been there, and having some portion of blood (and maybe a few cultural vestiges) of someone who has been there is not really enough.
Yeah, well, Steve, if you had eaten the sorry excuse for food that I ate as a child, you would know FOR SURE that being Irish-American is more than just a few cultural vestiges. It is a whole tragic HISTORY of famine.
Anna, do I understand that you habitually whack yourself with scooters for the fun of making a bruise? Because that would, indeed, be Irish. Or at least Irish-Catholic.
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