Mexanese Mumbo Jumbo

Ever wonder about the life of a cab driver? I was walking to the bus the other day and saw a cabbie parked on the side of the road, seat back and taking a nap. So I started reminiscing about my cab ride experiences and have ranked them from best to worst for you reading pleasure:

• Chatting along to the cabbie as if you've been lifelong friends. Ok, that was only in Dublin, but still.
• I met a cabbie who took a minor detour (without charging me) to return a dropped cell phone to the previous fare. He was a nice cheery sort of fellow and we had a great chat about the Olympics and hockey all the way downtown.
• Taken a cab where the driver barely said more than 5 words to me. Ironically that was in Vancouver and not New York like I had expected.
• One day, as I waiting for my ride to vball, I had some random cabbie drove by me, not once, but twice, honking at me to see if I needed a ride. What, am I suddenly in Acapulco again? (Mexican cabbies honk at you like that).
• And the worst cab ride I've ever taken, the cabbie wouldn't stop talking/complimenting me (every girl loves to be complimented, but when it's every other sentence, it's a bit much) and then proceeded to continuously offer me a hug and a back rub when we got to my destination. That was kinda awkward/borderline creepy and basically put me off that cab company for life.

The end.

I'm a beer girl. Always have, and likely, always will be. This particular drinking habit has started to cause some reaction amongst my friends. Not in the "You have a problem, we need to talk" kind of way, but more in the "You're such a dude!" kind of way.

I first noticed it when I was at friend's place for dinner a while ago. After a couple of glasses of wine, I spotted a can of Guinness just casually sitting on the patio, possibly calling my name. After asking permission to drink said beverage, Wayne turns to me and says "You're such a dude!", then proceeds to continue his chef's duties at the BBQ. Random.

Then most recently, during a debaucherous night involving shots, my shot of choice was Jack. Let's face it, it was the easy choice considering the other options were sure to have me kissing the porcelain throne later that night. Bailey proceeded to call me a "dude drink drinker" or something to that effect.

I'm not sure I'm offended...or flattered. Honestly I'm not really sure how to take it, but at the very least, you'd think I'd have more dates being a beer girl!

Seeing as how it's St Patrick's day, I thought I'd write a tiny tidbit about it. I may be setting myself up for future ridicule, but as CT says: "Caring is sharing".

So, here's a little something about me some of you may not know. It's kinda, sorta, maybe my secret dream to meet a hot, fresh off the boat Irish boy (accent and all), start dating, fall in love, get married, have kids and live part time in Ireland.

Fully aware this is unrealistic, and while I'm not exactly holding my breath, still hoping for a bit of Irish luck, just for today, to make my dream a reality.