A Day of Green Beer and Green Cards

It looks like this blog partied a bit too hard on its birthday and is still nursing a monster hangover. What can you expect? A birthday and the Ides of March, with St. Paddy's Day not far behind? And it was indeed St. Paddy's Day around here since Paddy O'Wife decided to dye her hair green and paint freckles all over her face. She kind of reminded me of a what a crazed leprechaun would look like if it was 5' 8" and had use cinammon instead of blush when putting on its makeup.

Never the less, she was the o'belle of the O'Ball. That's actually what a local event was called around here: The O'Ball. Ladies wore their nicest green dresses and gentlemen wore green ties and suspenders. I was not invited because I'm not even 1% Irish. In fact, local statutes say that I am to be confined to my home the entire day since I'm not Irish. I didn't think they were serious, but I was given a ticket when I tried to go grocery shopping.

"Where's your green card?" the officer asked in a terrible fake Irish accent.

I am no stranger to this question, so I answered. "I don't have nor need a green card. I was born in the US and am an American citizen."

"Not that green card, lad. Your green card. The one that proudly proclaims your emerald heritage and love of guiness!"

"¿Que?" I asked. That was a mistake.

"Gasp!" he said. It was the actual word, though, not the sound. "Gasp! Here's a ticket for violating Local Statute 317 which states, and I quote, 'Any non-Irish folk wandering the streets on St. Patrick's Day will be subject to 24 hours of house arrest and penalized $100 or three sacks of potatoes from the offender's potato patch, whichever is greater dependent on the market price of potatoes.'" He started to write me a ticket.

"Are you crazy, or just drunk?" I asked defiantly.

"Both!" he replied as he continued to fill out my ticket. "Do you happen to know the market price for potatoes today?"

"No, and I don't have a potato patch so it doesn't really matter." That was another mistake.

"Gasp! No potato patch! That violates Local Statute 412 which states, and I quo--"

"Just finish writing the tickets so I can go home."

"And I better not see you at the O'Ball!" the cop said as he tore my tickets off and handed them to me. He then turned around, hiccupped, and walked a few paces before clicking his heels and then scurrying off. I just went home.

So PO'W went to the O'Ball while I stayed at home, which really wasn't much of a punishment. However, I still have $175 in what I contend are unconstitutional fines to dispute. Maybe I'll have a fighting chance if I keep delaying my court appearance until Cinco de Mayo.

Speedy last name is actually O'Gonzalez!

Today is "Mr. Robert's" Day. Robert was St. Patrick's lesser-known Scottish half-brother.