I am not wearing green. Nope. Instead, I am wearing darkish pinky red. I matched that with a stained off white (and it's even offer now that it's been washed a million times) long sleeve t-shirt and brown corduroy pants that my butt crack sticks out of. Yes... this is what happens when your painters show up before you are dressed. You grab any old thing and throw it on to be able to answer your door. Couple that with the fact that I have no blinds on my bedroom windows and had to army crawl naked from the bathroom to the closet to put on said attire. Once you rug burn your entire front... you no longer care what you're wearing. (And let me digress by thanking the painters for telling me to take down those blinds on Monday even though they have yet to set foot in my bedroom. Yes, I realize now that you did that to get a good laugh about how stupid we are to get ready in the bathroom or the closet. Ha ha freaking ha.)
Back to today. I don't want you to kiss me. I am not Irish, and if I was, your beer stank breath wouldn't appeal and I would still not want you to kiss me. By the way, good rule of thumb... never kiss strangers anyway. They might just punch your ass out.
Also, it's not wise to pinch me. I don't like to be touched. Not just mean touches like pinches, but I don't do hugs either (and kisses per the previous paragraph). I like my personal space and while I know it may be traditional on St. Patty's Day to get all up in strangers' business and pinch them because their green garb was in the wash... but, you best keep those fingers to yourself when I walk greenless through your door. You might not get them back.
And, finally... I am not drunk. I didn't start at dawn, I have no whiskey in my home and Guinness is only fun when it's a world record.
So, in closing... Happy St. Patrick's Day to all... and leave me alone.