I Hate St. Patrick's Day!

Of course, I also hate New Year's Day, Valentine's Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas too, so that's not saying much. And recently, the other 359 days of the year have been no picnic, either. But that's not the topic of this entry.

I was walking at Dulles Town Center this morning, when I saw a man in a green tuxedo t-shirt, green basketball shorts, a green hat, and green Mardi Gras beads. He looked like some leprechaun's demon offspring. I told him I liked his outfit, and he said, "no comment." Whatever, dude. Whatever creams your Twinkie is fine with me.

I also don't like the fact that this stupid, made-up holiday is tailor-made to give people the impression that they have a free pass to drink to excess. Back on St. Patrick's Day of 2006, I was working the evening shift, and was five minutes from my house when I found myself stuck going through a sobriety check point. They checked my license, shone a flashlight in my eyes and car, and waved me on.

My grandfather on my mother's side was Irish. And like the stereotype, he was an alcoholic. When he took Kyle, John, and me to a Phillies game many years ago, I sat beside him and watched him drink beer after beer after beer (my uncle was driving), and after the game, he could barely walk; in addition to being drunk as a skunk, he had to catch his breath, due to his emphysema caused by his pack-a-day Pall Mall habit.

This is one of the reasons I am not much of a drinker. Unfortunately, I inherited that same compulsiveness; with me, though, it shows itself through compulsive eating. Thanks, Pappy.

I don't know where this day has gone, but it is now almost three o'clock, and I have accomplished next to nothing. I have been okay about eating, though; I have had two bagels and a couple of graham crackers today. That's it.

Last night, I went back to the Instinct website to enter yet another of their contests. This one, however, is not some rinky-dink DVD giveaway. This is for a trip to Fort Lauderdale. This one I really would like to win. They didn't want any creative writing, though; just your name, address, and phone number. Let's keep our fingers crossed. The contest ends in May.

I think I might go for another walk. I'm bored, and if I do that, it'll keep me occupied for another hour. If anything worth mentioning happens, I'll be back.

Eric Out.