Friday, March 15, 2013
The Luck of the Irish
Well, seeing as you would probably find more food in a fridge in Harvey Norman's than in mine, I decided to eat out. Hence the reason why I could be found sitting in The Streetside Cafe after school.
As I tucked into my chicken fillet, my ears picked up on the first sign of summer. No, it wasn't the call of a cuckoo but rather the dulcet tones of the first American tourists! Now, a couple of years ago I might have groaned inwardly at their over enthusiasm at being on the Emerald Isle. But in these recessionary times my little heart leaped at the thoughts of their dollars propping up our ailing economy.
As they were leaving, one of their party, who bore a striking resemblance to Jake Gyllenhall...
shit, maybe it was him!
...went up to the waitress and said
"My boss is always going on about how beautiful the Irish women are, so I'm wondering if I could get a photo taken with you to show him he is right."
Smooth or what?
The waitress looked at him in shock at first and then smiled coyly at him.
"But I'm not Irish. I'm Polish!"
The whole cafe burst into spontaneous applause amid cheers of
"Crash and burn!"
The poor devil went puce and mumbled
"You mean you're NOT Irish?"
I wanted to point out that long, naturally blond hair, piercing blue eyes and a size 6 figure is NOT
the look of the Irish....unfortunately.
I was going to do my bit for the tourist industry and offer to stand in for the photo. But then I figured that my "pulled-through-a-bush-backwards" Friday look would have shattered his boss's romantic image of Ireland!