50 more things about me.

Nah. Just kiddin. Happy St. Patty's day though, top o' the mornin' and all that Blarney.

My friend Joanne got me the nicest mug with shamrocks on it. Who gets someone a gift for St. Patricks Day? A sweet, nice person, that's who.

I may have to watch a little Michael Flatley tonight. Not Lord of the Dance, because it's a bit much with him tossing himself around the stage in all those warrior costumes, but Riverdance would be nice.

And for dinner? I am making a very irish dish... Lasagna.

I am proud to say that last night I got out my Bag of Important Papers (you know, the one in my room that I shove each and every piece of mail I get into, mostly without opening them because I just don't want to know how much we owe Mastercard or Union Gas.) and spread the lot out onto my bed and ORGANIZED them. Mon Dieu! Army turns over a new leaf!

I am just so utterly disgusted with myself that I can never find anything. I call the lady to activate my new bank card and she says, "can I have your card number please" and i say, "oh, you need that? Let me rip around the house like I have an army of red ants in my underwear and destroy legions of carefully piled up junk piles to try and retrieve that for ya." And I still couldn't find it.

So I had to hang up with her even though it took me fifteen minutes of hold please and press 1 for english and press 193 for inquiries about your long lost dead uncle and hold again and Thank you for holding! You are such a compliant little sucker and we appreciate how docile and meek you are sitting there with the phone in your hand for five years!

I had to hang up and find the bank card that had just been mailed to me like the day before. I found it, and resolved (like I do at least once a week) that THINGS ARE GOING TO CHANGE AROUND HERE STARTING RIGHT. NOW.

So. I did some filing and found a lot of neat things out like that our house insurance policy will no longer be in effect after the 30th of this month because I forgot to send them a cheque. Neat-O. If anyone was thinking of trying out firecrackers or cap guns, do it at least 100 feet from my house, please.

I will improve. I will. (Now I sound like Tracy Abbot when she was competing with Lauren Fenimore for Danny Romalotti way back on the Y&R in the eighties, remember she was working out and she lost all the weight and they had the pool party and she looked like a million bucks and Danny was all, "Tracy! You look fantastic!" and Lauren was scowling in the background. Geez did I love that show.)

I will though. Hey, I was VALEDICTORIAN of my eighth grade class. That has to count for something.

Alright. I said I wouldn't do 50 things but I bet you could pick out at least 29 from this rambling nonsense anyways.

Ciao.

I mean, "Erin Go Braless!"

A.