So I had to be told by my Canadian boyfriend that this weekend sees St. Patrick's Day. I had completely erased the date from my memory.

However, I don't fancy spending the day with a bunch of people who are drinking to the memory of their Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Aunt Peggy who survived the famine, rowed from the Old Country to the New in one of those cute Irish boats, set up an Irish souvenir stand in Manhattan, made her fortune, married a German, moved to Wyoming to run a ranch and spawned a series of generations of offspring that are CONVINCED they are Irish for a whole 24 hours and are terribly disappointed that I won't drink myself stupid, jig and reel myself to death and end the night with my personal rendition of Danny Boy to make the hearts of the masses melt and see Great Aunt Peggy turn in her grave

If you don't have an Irish passport, don't go flaunting your Irishness.

Bah.