"I'd like this played at my funeral -- I'm putting you in charge of that."

Gee, thanks, MOM! Is there something you want to TELL me? Happy St. Patrick's Day!! And so the topic of DEATH permeated this glorious (?) Irish holiday. But it dawned on me that death permeates just about all things Irish. Have you LISTENED to DANNY BOY??! The song mom yearns to be played at her funeral was some lovely Irish ditty called "The Queen of Knock" or something. I don't fucking know any Irish songs except for that one about Danny. I guess they can be festive, and they're certainly traditional for me, but I dunno, as I sat eating my corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, and carrots...they just seemed depressing and irritating to me. Or maybe that was just the sound quality of my DECEASED GRANDMOTHER'S RECORDS from the early 60s or so?!?!? Likely a bit of both. Mom sighed upon hearing me answer NO to her question of whether I knew any Irish songs. My heritage going down the drain. She was TRYING to pass these songs onto ME...don't I KNOW that?!?! OK, OK, great! Jesus. After dinner, I inhaled an unholy amount of fresh soda bread that mom baked; I think i'm gonna shit out a whole piece about noon tomorrow. And now, at 3am, i'm finally enjoying a Guinness. I think i'll go outside soon and smoke one of the 3 Parliaments my bro gave me upon returning from the NYC parade...only to zip off in his truck to a bar to continue drinking. Yes, I queried him on his state of being...fine to drive, he swore. Cue Marge Simpson groan. Wore my "Irish Party Animal" shirt for the 14th year in a row...still in perfect condition! Now THAT was worth the money! I'm still stuck on the fact that I actually made mental notes during dinner of what to play at my mother's funeral! And it's not the first time. What the fucking FUCK?! THIS is my life. I think the Jews and the Irish have a lot in common. Oy, vey, Danny!