While reading an article last night about fathers and sons, memories came flooding back to the time I took me son out for his first pint. Off we went to our local pub only two blocks from the cottage. I got him a Guinness. He didn’t like it, so I drank it.
Then I got him a Kilkenny’s, he didn’t like that either, so I drank it. Finally, I thought he might like some Harp Lager? He didn’t. I drank it.
I thought maybe he’d like whisky better than beer so we tried a Jameson’s; nope!
In desperation, I had him try that rare Redbreast, Ireland’s finest whisky. He wouldn’t even smell it.
What could I do but drink it!
By the time I realized he just didn’t like to drink, I was so shit-faced I could hardly push his stroller back home!
Inside I found a fully equipped bar with Guinness on tap. On one wall, there was a row of decanters with fine Irish whiskey and Waterford crystal glasses. On the other wall was a dazzling array of the finest cigars and chocolates.
When the priest came in, I said to him, “Father, forgive me, for it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to confession, but I must first admit that the confessional box is much more inviting than it used to be.”
He replied, “You moron, you’re on my side.”
“Hey, show us yer teets, ya bloody penguins.” shouts one of the drunks. Quite shocked, Mother Superior turns to Sister Mary Immaculata and says, “I don’t think they know who we are; show them your cross.”
Sister Mary Immaculata rolls down her window and shouts, “Piss off, ya fookin’ little wankers, before I come over there and rip yer balls off.” She then rolls up her window, looks back at Mother Superior quite innocently, and asks, “Did that sound cross enough?”
She said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I feel much luckier when I’m completely naked.”
With that, she stripped from the neck down, rolled the dice and with an Irish brogue yelled, “Come on, baby, Mama needs new clothes!”
As the dice came to a stop, she jumped up and down and squealed: “YES! YES! I WON, I WON!”
She hugged each of the dealers and then picked up her winnings (and her clothes) and quickly departed.
The dealers stared at each other dumbfounded. Finally, one of them asked,“What did she roll?”
The other answered, “I don’t know – I thought you were watching the dice.”
MORAL OF THE STORY:
Not all Irish are drunks.
Not all blondes are dumb.
But all men….are men.