It Tastes So Good When It Hits Your Lips...

Today is the best day of the year, St. Patrick's Day. Where everyone is a little Irish, except for the gay and the Italians. It is one of only three holidays in the year where getting drunk is normal and encouraged. New Year's Eve is one and, of course, Ramadan being the other. I celebrate this holiday kinda hard. One, because I got plenty of mick blood flowing through me. And secondly, because I believe this is the day I was conceived. I know most of you would like to think I was an immaculate conception, but I was bore of woman just like Abraham Lincoln, George Washington and George Lincoln Rockwell. And no, I am certain my parents planned for me. I have two older sisters. The law of averages were in my parents favor that I was gonna be boy. This is a fun and creepy game to play. Look at you birthday (December 16th for me), track back nine months, look for a reason for your mammy and pappy to fool around, like your father got out of jail or mother was acquitted of war crimes, and wahlah! That is more than likely, you Conception Day. So, tilt one back and be happy your parents decided they needed one more mouth to feed, because without them, you are spunk.