370
R. Linda:
Well, it has happened, Maureen me lovely Irish co-worker, has found Scott who works on the floor below us, and thought he was a handsome thing she did. So, she struck up a conversation and weaved herself into friend status. This was done with single sister Rose in mind, mind you. Now our determined to find a husband for her sister Rose, Maureen, be a looker she be, so naturally one would assume Miss Rose be too. But as it happens Rose is the not prettier of the two. But Scott he didn't know, he just naturally assumed Rose was as good-looking if not better than sissy.
Maureen worked her faery magic she did and got Scott to agree to a date of sorts with her sister, who was told Scott was a catch, a good-looking laddie as ever there was, and that he had a job (this last being very important). So it must be said on Rose's side she too, was somewhat misled and I'll tell ye why as we go. It is safe to say the job part was a score point, but there turned out to be one thing none of us knew about Scott which was a total turn-off.
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Well, it has happened, Maureen me lovely Irish co-worker, has found Scott who works on the floor below us, and thought he was a handsome thing she did. So, she struck up a conversation and weaved herself into friend status. This was done with single sister Rose in mind, mind you. Now our determined to find a husband for her sister Rose, Maureen, be a looker she be, so naturally one would assume Miss Rose be too. But as it happens Rose is the not prettier of the two. But Scott he didn't know, he just naturally assumed Rose was as good-looking if not better than sissy.
Maureen worked her faery magic she did and got Scott to agree to a date of sorts with her sister, who was told Scott was a catch, a good-looking laddie as ever there was, and that he had a job (this last being very important). So it must be said on Rose's side she too, was somewhat misled and I'll tell ye why as we go. It is safe to say the job part was a score point, but there turned out to be one thing none of us knew about Scott which was a total turn-off.
The idea was to have Scott and Rose meet in a boozer (that be a modern Irish word for pub) because they both liked to drink and well, what setting would be more congenial than a dimly lit pub with plenty of exits for either if they decided to put the old Irish exit into play. This was to be done after work in a casual manner. Sounds good so far? Ah yes, it does indeed. But Rose had cold feet about this. She had heard about the high crime rate in America and decided Scott could be a violent criminal himself, think Irish gangs in Boston. Oh my, you might say. Well, Scott was anything but, I think if Scott ever saw a knife or a gun, he'd faint. He isn't the bravest of souls on the planet, but he looks fine he does. Just keep him away from the bad side of town and you'll be safe as a bug in a rug you will.
This foolishness got Maureen quite upset with her sister. Hadn't she put in weeks of cultivating Scott for a blind date? Hadn't she wasted her precious time cementing a friendship she really didn't care about? Oi! The "date" was set for Thursday evening. Scott was all about the meeting and this put Maureen into amok sweat it did, because she knew, yes she knew, her sister be home baulking. About 5 p.m. she comes to me and says, "Gabriel, could ye do me a wee bit o' a favour now?"
And me, thinking it be work-related said instantly "For shure I can!"
"Good then lad, because I need ye presence at Kitty O'Shea's for supper with Scott and me sister Rose."
I stopped what I was doing and felt a palsy taking me head over. Kitty O'Sheas? Okay, it be THE Irish pub to go to in Boston, but there wasn't exactly a dimly lit, subdued atmosphere at Kitty's. There had in the past, and I wasn't sure it still did not persist, that Kitty's was a place of some rancorous behaviours -- police being called and bouncers being hit with shoes and people being cited for dancing too "aggressively" if there be such a thing. I took me pause right there and when speech returned, I croaked out, "Kitty O'Shea's on State Street ya mean?"
"Oh yeah, that's the place."
"And what for ye need the likes of me?" I asked. "I be a lover, not a fighter."
She saw where I was going with this, so she reassured me O'Shea's had cleaned up its act.
"Rose is catchin' it she does seem ta think Scott from downstairs be of the criminal element."
I looked at her with a big WHAT on me face.
"Well, he is Irish American and she thinks instantly Irish mafia."
She told me the rest of it and said it was nothing more than Rose finding an excuse not to go. But after all the groundwork she, Maureen, had done, it was going down whether she had to go home and drag Rose by the ankles over the pavement and inside the pub. My mind actually could imagine that and . . . never mind. Well, meself had agreed stupidly without knowing, so what choice had I and no excuse could come to me empty head. Sigh.
I did say that Scott was four generations away from Ireland and I didn't even think he knew where Ireland was or much about it. And, as it turned out I was right. For shame on him!
As it was, our Scott had to work a little over, but he was hot to meet us at the pub when he found I was going to be there, he felt so much better about it all -- manly support I suppose. What is it with singles, they need someone to hold their hands? Oi! I went to the pub with Maureen, we got a nice table and as we sat down Rose came in. Maureen ordered a round of drinks whispering to me it would soothe Rose's nerves and having a few minutes without Scott would "settle her down a bit." Well, OK.
We were having a lovely sedate time of it when Scott arrived, looking I might add, very dressed for the occasion. He had on his good overcoat and dress trousers with a shirt and tie. This was a first, every time I've seen the boyo he's got on what we upstairs joke as mail room attire, black dockers with an LL Bean wrinkly shirt. I almost fell out of me chair at the sight of a spiffy Scott. He was nervous you could tell, but we sat him down between Rose and meself.
"Top of the morning to you," he said thinking this was a perfect Irish greeting for 5:30 in the p.m.
"And the rest of the day to myself," I muttered under me breath. No one in Ireland ever says any of that.
Scott was staring from Rose to Maureen and I knew as a guy, he was thinking Maureen the better catch as it were. I wanted to hit him in the head and say, focus on Rose, you moron! The next best thing was to get him into conversation with her and this I was sweating away on without much success. He found a way to ask Maureen what she thought of this and that instead of Rose. It was obvious he wasn't a fan of Rose, but Maureen? Well, hello! This wasn't good and I knew it, Rose knew it, we all knew it!
"Here have a lash of this?" Maureen slid her sister's drink towards him. It was something called an Irish fizz, served in a martini glass. Rose's reaction was one of horror her sister would give her drink to someone she didn't know where his germs were from. But she needn't of worried, because he too looked aghast, but for another reason entirely.
"Lash?" He looked at Maureen. "What's a lash?"
"Well, I'm not goin' ta hit ya if that's what ya think. I mean take a sip." Maureen said sarcastically. Then she whispered to me, "It be a night for the high stool, it is."
This means it's time to get to drinking because this isn't going at all well. And we did. She asked for a half one and Scott having no clue said he'd have one too. What he thought she ordered I have not a clue but he looked kind of taken aback when the waitress put down a Jameson straight up in front of him. Maureen raised hers to him and slugged it back asking for another, then on second thought, "Bring the bottle." Oh my, I thought, talk about dragging someone home by the ankles, it was going to be Maureen getting the return trip from Rose.
Not to be outdone, Rose piped up and asked for "a 'pent' of the black stuff." Which was a pint of Guinness. The looking like a lady with her fizz drink was out the window. This Scott also ordered because he was talking some nonsense about pouring the whiskey in the beer and making an Irish car bomb. Yup, he did say that. He either forgot or didn't know about the Baileys and the Kahlua.
Well, after Scott's 'Irish car bomb' (of which he ordered several) his tongue loosened up and he drunkenly informed Rose this: "I am sure glad you speak English. I didn't know if you did or not."
Maureen staring into her sixth Jamesons muttered so he could hear, "It is our first language you know."
I wanted to laugh, it was too funny, but I suppressed it because as I could see clearly, Maureen was just now finding out what an arse Scott was, and Rose was horrified he'd think she had a limited command of the English language and further, where on earth did he think Ireland was located? I wanted to ask him that, but controlled me urge because I feared the answer and didn't want him to look any more stupid than he already was doing all on his own.
"So Scott, where ye relatives from in Ireland, ye are of Irish heritage are ye not?" Rose attempted some direct conversation.
"Uh . . . somewhere in the south of Ireland?" He asked her to which her eyes opened wide he'd be asking someone he didn't know where his people were from. I wanted to put me head in me hands.
"Ye mean the Republic or are ya playin' the fool wid us?" Maureen interjected.
"The Republic? What do you mean? I mean Ireland, someplace in the southern part." Scott looked confused.
"Does he even know where Ireland be?" Maureen whispered to me, then to Scott, "There are two parts, one be the north where we are from referred to by most as the UK or Ulster, and then there be the Republic of Ireland, referred to as the south."
Well, Scott had to blink at her a few times, this was the first he'd heard. Maureen whispered things like "livin' under a rock," and "dark ages," and I was thinking the same thing but I was also thinking that be two strikes, one more and Scotty boy you be out. I needn't worry he went right to that next strike all on his lonesome.
"I took my mom to see Riverdance. Closest I've been to anything Irish," and he laughed. Yes, he did, he laughed, and the "anything Irish" and "Riverdance" being a close second had the two girls frozen. They looked at each other knowingly and I was thinking he couldn't make this any worse could he? Yes, he could and did!
"I think my great, great, great, great grandfather was a member of the IRA."
Ah and for 'shure' now you've gone and done it, ya dolt, I wanted to say. Here ye sit talking to two lasses from Northern Ireland, neither of which is a Catholic, and you are talking Irish Republican Army to them. Oh wonderful, may the saints preserve us from loose-tongued Catholic boyos. I thought he was a Proddy until he opened up with that. Obviously, Maureen did too, by the look of her. Rose, well no tellin' what Rosie was thinking, but whatever it was, it wasn't good.
"Riverdance was it?" Maureen said, her eyes tiny slits, going to change the subject as speedily as she could.
"Yeah, was all this tap dancing going on."
OH MY GOD DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH. TAP DANCING? Neither woman corrected him, they took healthy swigs of what they were drinking and ordered another round and in Maureen's case another bottle. I think we were somewhere on round number forty-two, but Scott, was on round sixty-seven; for a latecomer, he was way in front of us.
"Ye might go easy on the gargle there, Scott," Maureen said, unkindly. Yes, she did, she wasn't in any mood that was near good anymore.
"Gargle?" He looked at us confused.
"Ye're on yer way to rat-arsed ye be ya keep on hauling the drink," Rose said in way of explanation. Then to add insult to a man oblivious he was being insulted at all, she said to her sister, "We should switch em' to Bud Light." Everyone in Ireland knows Bud Light be considered a woman's drink. Sigh.
Not to be deterred he attempted more 'Irish conversation' by uttering this gem, "I used to like Bono, Bloody Sunday was my favourite song for a long time. Great lyrics don't you agree?"
Well, I needn't go into the verbal frenzy THIS caused because somehow it whirled away to religion and politics and everyone at the table but me, was fired up. It did not end well. Rose got up and left but not before telling Scott he was a close-minded bigot, and he had some choice words on her looks to walk her out the door with, and then he got up after she left and said, he'd rather date a leprechaun than Maureen's sister, which then they had a go round on the subject of leprechauns that isn't worth me writing time as I sat there like Switzerland, as neutral as I could possibly be, because I have to work with both of them. Finally, he left with Maureen throwing jeers and insults after him.
All was quiet after that, just us two. The Irish Catholic lad and the Proddy girl, both from Northern Ireland with not much to say. I smiled and ventured a word, but before I could utter it, I got a "Shut your gob, Gabe." And I did. I sat there waiting for her to say whatever it was, be it a complaint about Scott, Rose, or even yours truly who was innocent, I tell ya, INNOCENT of any wrongdoings or goings on. After a while, she smiled, leaned toward me and patted my hand. With slurred speech she managed to thank me for being her "second" and that she was sorry it was all a bloody fine mess, but who knew?
"So in the end Rosie didn't get the shift," she said with a sigh meaning it didn't work out for Rose. "When I told him to sling his hook, he started effin' and blindin' at me, the eejit."
She was rather perturbed about the last. When she told him that, he had no idea what she meant, which was, to get lost. He thought she said something worse than that and started cursing at her. I put it to a stop by saying "Enough please, we will be thrown out, people are looking at us." And they were.
"Well, he's eating the head off me," Maureen had complained meaning he was verbally attacking her, which he was and did apologise for, but then she said, "Full duck or no dinner," and he went wild on that because he didn't know what she meant by that either, he was very frustrated, and thought it was another insult laid in his direction. I tried to tell him it was another way of saying, either do something right or don't do it at all. It was as Maureen said again, "A bloody fine mess."
Well, I suspected it would be, though I did not know the Catholic part I didn't, but I did try to warn her several weeks ago that Scott, as well as he looks, well, there's not much upstairs. But after meeting Rose, I thought the same of her, except in the looks department, she did have more brain power than Scott, but not by much. We ordered coffee, and I was nowhere in the cups as she was. I stayed another hour just pouring coffee and a dessert down her to sober her up enough so she could find her way home. As it ended, I couldn't stay in the city much longer than I had been, so I rang a cab and put her in.
Today, she's out with "migraine" another Irish code word for "hangover" and Scott well, I did happen to run into him on me way in and he looked like hell. Green around the gills I'd say. Not happy with Maureen and never wants to be in the company of that "tart-tongued Rose." Ah, yup. I think the feelings on the other side are probably mutual. I know that is the last time, I get hooked into holding anyone's hand on a blind date.
GabeShe saw where I was going with this, so she reassured me O'Shea's had cleaned up its act.
"Rose is catchin' it she does seem ta think Scott from downstairs be of the criminal element."
I looked at her with a big WHAT on me face.
"Well, he is Irish American and she thinks instantly Irish mafia."
She told me the rest of it and said it was nothing more than Rose finding an excuse not to go. But after all the groundwork she, Maureen, had done, it was going down whether she had to go home and drag Rose by the ankles over the pavement and inside the pub. My mind actually could imagine that and . . . never mind. Well, meself had agreed stupidly without knowing, so what choice had I and no excuse could come to me empty head. Sigh.
I did say that Scott was four generations away from Ireland and I didn't even think he knew where Ireland was or much about it. And, as it turned out I was right. For shame on him!
As it was, our Scott had to work a little over, but he was hot to meet us at the pub when he found I was going to be there, he felt so much better about it all -- manly support I suppose. What is it with singles, they need someone to hold their hands? Oi! I went to the pub with Maureen, we got a nice table and as we sat down Rose came in. Maureen ordered a round of drinks whispering to me it would soothe Rose's nerves and having a few minutes without Scott would "settle her down a bit." Well, OK.
We were having a lovely sedate time of it when Scott arrived, looking I might add, very dressed for the occasion. He had on his good overcoat and dress trousers with a shirt and tie. This was a first, every time I've seen the boyo he's got on what we upstairs joke as mail room attire, black dockers with an LL Bean wrinkly shirt. I almost fell out of me chair at the sight of a spiffy Scott. He was nervous you could tell, but we sat him down between Rose and meself.
"Top of the morning to you," he said thinking this was a perfect Irish greeting for 5:30 in the p.m.
"And the rest of the day to myself," I muttered under me breath. No one in Ireland ever says any of that.
Scott was staring from Rose to Maureen and I knew as a guy, he was thinking Maureen the better catch as it were. I wanted to hit him in the head and say, focus on Rose, you moron! The next best thing was to get him into conversation with her and this I was sweating away on without much success. He found a way to ask Maureen what she thought of this and that instead of Rose. It was obvious he wasn't a fan of Rose, but Maureen? Well, hello! This wasn't good and I knew it, Rose knew it, we all knew it!
"Here have a lash of this?" Maureen slid her sister's drink towards him. It was something called an Irish fizz, served in a martini glass. Rose's reaction was one of horror her sister would give her drink to someone she didn't know where his germs were from. But she needn't of worried, because he too looked aghast, but for another reason entirely.
"Lash?" He looked at Maureen. "What's a lash?"
"Well, I'm not goin' ta hit ya if that's what ya think. I mean take a sip." Maureen said sarcastically. Then she whispered to me, "It be a night for the high stool, it is."
This means it's time to get to drinking because this isn't going at all well. And we did. She asked for a half one and Scott having no clue said he'd have one too. What he thought she ordered I have not a clue but he looked kind of taken aback when the waitress put down a Jameson straight up in front of him. Maureen raised hers to him and slugged it back asking for another, then on second thought, "Bring the bottle." Oh my, I thought, talk about dragging someone home by the ankles, it was going to be Maureen getting the return trip from Rose.
Not to be outdone, Rose piped up and asked for "a 'pent' of the black stuff." Which was a pint of Guinness. The looking like a lady with her fizz drink was out the window. This Scott also ordered because he was talking some nonsense about pouring the whiskey in the beer and making an Irish car bomb. Yup, he did say that. He either forgot or didn't know about the Baileys and the Kahlua.
Well, after Scott's 'Irish car bomb' (of which he ordered several) his tongue loosened up and he drunkenly informed Rose this: "I am sure glad you speak English. I didn't know if you did or not."
Maureen staring into her sixth Jamesons muttered so he could hear, "It is our first language you know."
I wanted to laugh, it was too funny, but I suppressed it because as I could see clearly, Maureen was just now finding out what an arse Scott was, and Rose was horrified he'd think she had a limited command of the English language and further, where on earth did he think Ireland was located? I wanted to ask him that, but controlled me urge because I feared the answer and didn't want him to look any more stupid than he already was doing all on his own.
"So Scott, where ye relatives from in Ireland, ye are of Irish heritage are ye not?" Rose attempted some direct conversation.
"Uh . . . somewhere in the south of Ireland?" He asked her to which her eyes opened wide he'd be asking someone he didn't know where his people were from. I wanted to put me head in me hands.
"Ye mean the Republic or are ya playin' the fool wid us?" Maureen interjected.
"The Republic? What do you mean? I mean Ireland, someplace in the southern part." Scott looked confused.
"Does he even know where Ireland be?" Maureen whispered to me, then to Scott, "There are two parts, one be the north where we are from referred to by most as the UK or Ulster, and then there be the Republic of Ireland, referred to as the south."
Well, Scott had to blink at her a few times, this was the first he'd heard. Maureen whispered things like "livin' under a rock," and "dark ages," and I was thinking the same thing but I was also thinking that be two strikes, one more and Scotty boy you be out. I needn't worry he went right to that next strike all on his lonesome.
"I took my mom to see Riverdance. Closest I've been to anything Irish," and he laughed. Yes, he did, he laughed, and the "anything Irish" and "Riverdance" being a close second had the two girls frozen. They looked at each other knowingly and I was thinking he couldn't make this any worse could he? Yes, he could and did!
"I think my great, great, great, great grandfather was a member of the IRA."
Ah and for 'shure' now you've gone and done it, ya dolt, I wanted to say. Here ye sit talking to two lasses from Northern Ireland, neither of which is a Catholic, and you are talking Irish Republican Army to them. Oh wonderful, may the saints preserve us from loose-tongued Catholic boyos. I thought he was a Proddy until he opened up with that. Obviously, Maureen did too, by the look of her. Rose, well no tellin' what Rosie was thinking, but whatever it was, it wasn't good.
"Riverdance was it?" Maureen said, her eyes tiny slits, going to change the subject as speedily as she could.
"Yeah, was all this tap dancing going on."
OH MY GOD DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH. TAP DANCING? Neither woman corrected him, they took healthy swigs of what they were drinking and ordered another round and in Maureen's case another bottle. I think we were somewhere on round number forty-two, but Scott, was on round sixty-seven; for a latecomer, he was way in front of us.
"Ye might go easy on the gargle there, Scott," Maureen said, unkindly. Yes, she did, she wasn't in any mood that was near good anymore.
"Gargle?" He looked at us confused.
"Ye're on yer way to rat-arsed ye be ya keep on hauling the drink," Rose said in way of explanation. Then to add insult to a man oblivious he was being insulted at all, she said to her sister, "We should switch em' to Bud Light." Everyone in Ireland knows Bud Light be considered a woman's drink. Sigh.
Not to be deterred he attempted more 'Irish conversation' by uttering this gem, "I used to like Bono, Bloody Sunday was my favourite song for a long time. Great lyrics don't you agree?"
Well, I needn't go into the verbal frenzy THIS caused because somehow it whirled away to religion and politics and everyone at the table but me, was fired up. It did not end well. Rose got up and left but not before telling Scott he was a close-minded bigot, and he had some choice words on her looks to walk her out the door with, and then he got up after she left and said, he'd rather date a leprechaun than Maureen's sister, which then they had a go round on the subject of leprechauns that isn't worth me writing time as I sat there like Switzerland, as neutral as I could possibly be, because I have to work with both of them. Finally, he left with Maureen throwing jeers and insults after him.
All was quiet after that, just us two. The Irish Catholic lad and the Proddy girl, both from Northern Ireland with not much to say. I smiled and ventured a word, but before I could utter it, I got a "Shut your gob, Gabe." And I did. I sat there waiting for her to say whatever it was, be it a complaint about Scott, Rose, or even yours truly who was innocent, I tell ya, INNOCENT of any wrongdoings or goings on. After a while, she smiled, leaned toward me and patted my hand. With slurred speech she managed to thank me for being her "second" and that she was sorry it was all a bloody fine mess, but who knew?
"So in the end Rosie didn't get the shift," she said with a sigh meaning it didn't work out for Rose. "When I told him to sling his hook, he started effin' and blindin' at me, the eejit."
She was rather perturbed about the last. When she told him that, he had no idea what she meant, which was, to get lost. He thought she said something worse than that and started cursing at her. I put it to a stop by saying "Enough please, we will be thrown out, people are looking at us." And they were.
"Well, he's eating the head off me," Maureen had complained meaning he was verbally attacking her, which he was and did apologise for, but then she said, "Full duck or no dinner," and he went wild on that because he didn't know what she meant by that either, he was very frustrated, and thought it was another insult laid in his direction. I tried to tell him it was another way of saying, either do something right or don't do it at all. It was as Maureen said again, "A bloody fine mess."
Well, I suspected it would be, though I did not know the Catholic part I didn't, but I did try to warn her several weeks ago that Scott, as well as he looks, well, there's not much upstairs. But after meeting Rose, I thought the same of her, except in the looks department, she did have more brain power than Scott, but not by much. We ordered coffee, and I was nowhere in the cups as she was. I stayed another hour just pouring coffee and a dessert down her to sober her up enough so she could find her way home. As it ended, I couldn't stay in the city much longer than I had been, so I rang a cab and put her in.
Today, she's out with "migraine" another Irish code word for "hangover" and Scott well, I did happen to run into him on me way in and he looked like hell. Green around the gills I'd say. Not happy with Maureen and never wants to be in the company of that "tart-tongued Rose." Ah, yup. I think the feelings on the other side are probably mutual. I know that is the last time, I get hooked into holding anyone's hand on a blind date.
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
