It's Raining, It's Pouring

It's raining to beat the band out there, as my mother would say. Or is it "ban?" I don't know. The woman has more expressions than I can count. Really. I've been writing them down for the last 15 years or so, because they're hilarious and odd and I rarely hear anyone but her use most of them. One of my favorites is, "from hell to breakfast." As in, "If I'd have said that, my daddy would've kicked my ass from hell to breakfast." Seriously, this is just how she talks. I love it.

Anyway, I know you're just dying to hear more about my animals defecation habits, so let's get that out of the way. We spoke with our vet, and evidently, some dogs just "can't handle the fiber" in this new dog food. There's an understatement if I ever heard one. The solution? Keep Zoe on the new food and put Gina back on the old. As if we didn't have enough daily pet processes to work through. Some day, in my dreams, I will have a home with *decent* (I'm not even asking for nice here) furniture and floors that have not been destroyed by four-legged creatures.

Oh, who am I kidding? Once these critters are gone, I'll probably get suckered into more.

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Is it just me, or is St. Patrick's Day one of the dumbest holidays ever? Who'd have thought so many people would take pride in a celebration of one's heritage that often seems only to amount to a glorified abuse of alcohol and the color green? I'm not knocking anybody here. I'm sure I've got some Irish blood, just like half of America. I just wonder why more people don't find it mildly offensive that centuries worth of an entire culture have been boiled down into leprechauns and green beer. It's kind of like how Italians are always represented as one giant crime family of gun-toting, drug-dealing henchmen. Maybe it'd be easier to take if we made a hallmark holiday out of it, with lots of red wine (you know, red for all the blood we shed) and cutesy little organza bags with grams of cocaine in them. Just a minute while I get the Vatican on the phone...

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So yeah, you won't find me throwing down on St. Patty's Day, but I'll recount a tale a friend of mine told me from the weekend's celebrations. She was walking down a heavily-populated bar area Saturday night, when she saw a young girl with a bachelorette sash across her chest run drunkenly out into the middle of the street and get struck by a Lexus. She heard a scream and then a loud thud, and the girl was almost struck a second time by a car going in the opposite direction. The girl got up and walked away. Everyone clapped. The man in the Lexus asked who was gonna pay for the dent in his car.

The girl was seen again later in the night at a nearby bar. While I'm sure your inebriated stamina is applaudable, that had to be one hell of a hangover the next day.