El Guapo in DC

I am El Guapo. The most Guapo man in all of DC. Mucho Amor

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Green Beer

As you may have guessed from my name, I am not of Irish descent. I was not blessed with pale skin, red hair, or freckles. My people do not get burnt by the sun, name their children Danny, or center their meals around the potato. So, what could I do on Saint Patrick’s Day? I drank. I drank heavily.

One does not know the power of St. Patrick’s day until they find themselves throwing up green beer in an alleyway, then going back inside for more.

Why must they make things green? Green. The color of mold. The color of things gone bad. On this day, green food is good food. Praise be.

This is the day that every Caucasian, no every person is able to say and wish and hope that they are Irish. What is it that we celebrate? I truly have no idea, but an old Irish man told me that it had something to do with ridding Ireland of snakes.

“Snakes. St. Patrick the country of Ireland from the snakes! Buy my friend a drink!”

When I say that this gentleman was Irish, I do not know this with certainty. He had a strong drawl, a Guinness mustache and eczema. He could have been from West Virginia. I do not know, but he bought me a beer and taught me of St. Francis. Turns out St. Francis also converted many pagans over towards Christ. I guess that’s a good thing. I will drink to that.

Imagine me, a gorgeous Guatemalan who was blessed with not so pale skin, inside a very Irish bar in the middle of “dancing” Irish dances. Why the quotation marks? Because jumping up and down while bringing your ankle to your waist is not dancing. It’s a standing seizure. But, it turns out that the redheaded ladies seem to enjoy seeing two Guatemalans do their version of the Riverdance, so on this St. Patrick’s day, I Guatemalaneded it up. It was glorious.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?”

Did you like that? My grandfather was Irish.

“Oh yeah. You look Irish. What was your grandfather’s name?”

Francisco, I mean, Francis O’Douls.

“Oh, O’Douls. That’s hot. I like that. You must be a Black Irish.”

Oh, my little sweet red-haired princess, I’ll be anything you want if you just keep talking to me. Then, of course, the green beer that had settled nicely in my stomach expressed its strong desire to escape my Guatemalanness with a belch. A green belch. My little redhead didn’t take well to that, but luckily my shirt was green.

Green vomit does not stain a green shirt. But a belch, bueno, a belch ruins even Irish foreplay.

Mucho Amor,

El Guapo

8 Comments:

At 9:54 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Back off the Irish.

 
At 11:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Because jumping up and down while bringing your ankle to your WASTE is not dancing" - SIC

CORRECTION: "Because jumping up and down while bringing your ankle to your WAIST is not dancing"

 
At 8:21 AM, Blogger Rev. Brandy said...

"A standing seizure."

I adore you.

 
At 10:52 AM, Blogger Kim Ayres said...

Ná bac leis na bloggerí eile, níl síad aon rud ach cunts

Is a piece of Irish I saw written down recently Apparently it means
"Never mind the other bloggers, they're nothing but..." hmm, can't quite find a translation for that last word

 
At 12:05 AM, Blogger C'est la vie!! said...

Belching...THAT'S HOT!!

 
At 12:38 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

My father is what they used to call 'black Irish' and he is as white as a sheet with dark black hair and green eyes. Black Irish are Irish who have Moorish blood/married into Moorish families when the Andalusian Muslims used southern Ireland's ports to trade.
But you are Guapo, and we Irish would be proud to count you among our numbers. Just stop drinking green beer; we seriously don't do that in Ireland. St. Paddy's Day is a religious holiday. It would be like drinking purple and pink Easter Egg beer on Easter.

 
At 4:17 PM, Blogger Namaste said...

I could be wrong, but I believe that the term "Black Irish" comes from the invasion of the Spanish Armada off the the Emerald Isles back in the day. 1588, I think. Lots of forced conceptions happened as a result of the invasion, and Ireland was there after populated with a lot of tanned skinned babies. And we all know that the Spanish then were really a bunch of conversos and mestizo Arabs at that time, anyway, especially those making up the Armada. And we also know that these same Spanish for the ones responsible for colonizing your beloved Guatemaula. Ergo, you could totally be Black Irish, El Guapo. Uh-huh. At the very least, a distant cousin. Only, the Black Irish apparently know how to handle their Green Beer a little better. Cheers.

 
At 8:36 PM, Blogger Lee said...

Don't forget the Great Famine. The Irish have that to offer too!

 

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