I’m wearing green today, as I’m sure most everyone else is. Interesting how worked up this town seems to get about St. Patrick’s Day, despite the lack of a sizable Irish community (aside from a few hunky Irish exchange students :). Today I walked to class behind a girl that managed to cram all possible shades of green into her outfit: neon green tights (!), billowy hunter green skirt, lime green socks over the tights, dark green blouse and jacket, seafoam green hair bow. On top of that it was rather windy earlier, and she was really rather chubby, which made her look from far away like a gelatinous jello blob that escaped from its cup. Generally I try not to dig on fat people for being fat (far better to be a little chubby than anorexic), but when you sport an outfit that ridiculous, it really makes you stand out more if you are fat. A rail thin girl would also look absurd, but in a slightly different way. She’d look more like the Brazilian flag than a jello mold.

Anyhoo, I’m not wearing green because of any Irish pride or anything. I’m Vietnamese, for Chrissakes, and the only thing I share with the Irish is my love of potatoes (and drinking). No, I’m really just wearing green to hopefully prevent jerks from invading my personal space and pinching me for my lack of Irishness. Now I don’t have an issue with the holiday itself, or even the fact that it’s primarily an excuse for partying (which I will take advantage of tonight, believe me). I just question some of the practices. Why celebrate Irishness by dumping green sludge into your city’s river to make it look like toxic waste? What does going around and physically invading people’s personal space have to do with Irish pride? Maybe there’s something to Irish people that I’m not aware of - I really don’t know much about Irish people except a vague idea of a potato famine (no french fries!) and that real Irish people apparently think Guinness is for posers. I suppose, as far as the pinching thing goes, it’s an effective way of drawing everyone, even those who don’t really care, into participating in the spirit of the holiday. Not Irish, eh? Tough luck! There’s no escaping my pinchy green fingers!

A year ago, I had the misfortune of being around Beanie on St. Patrick’s Day, who happens to be zealously pinch-happy. She was a co-worker at my old-old job, and is also a rabid Christian fundamentalist with severe social skill issues (go figure). When she started working there, the first thing I noticed about her was the giant six-inch wooden cross hanging around her neck. Then her flaming red hair, and the half-wild gleam in her eyes. Wee! (Looking back on it, it occurs to me that I’ve had the greatest luck with co-workers - if by luck, you mean ‘uncanny ability to draw the craziest of the crazies’). It wasn’t long before she irritated just about everyone in the entire office by her mere presence. She would do things like suddenly lapse into this high-pitched, hybrid-baby-robot voice in the middle of a conversation for no reason, because she thought it was funny. She would blurt out whatever was on her mind without thinking about it, offending some of the students.Once, a student came in who was born in Mexico, but whose parents were Japanese. He handed Beanie his documents to be looked over, and she stared at him and said “Boy, you don’t look like a Mexican! You look Chinese!” I alternated between feeling bad for her (it was obvious she didn’t have very many friends), and wanting to punch her in the face. Usually, when she wasn’t around was when I felt pity, and when I was in the same room with her, my reaction tended toward the latter.

Last St. Patrick’s Day, I got dressed and then, realizing what day it was, threw on a green bracelet as an afterthought. I showed up to work, talking with my co-worker and complaining about all the pinching nonsense. Up came Beanie, behind my back and before I had time to brandish the green bracelet, she pinched me - on my hip. Most people at least go for a neutral spot like the arm or the shoulder, but not Beanie! Keep in mind I’d only really known her for a few weeks, and was not by any means a friend. Sure, I said “hi” and stuff to her and didn’t outright ignore her, like some of my other co-workers did - but that did not, in my mind, place her on pinching terms with me. Evidently she thought otherwise. Eddie, the other guy at the front desk, laughed and said later that he thought I would punch her face off, I looked so angry. Instead I just glowered back at her, peeved, and pointed to my bracelet. “Oops! Hehehehehehahahahaha!” she giggled maniacally, and pranced off to go molest my other co-workers. A week or so later, when she didn’t even have the paltry excuse of St. Patrick’s Day, she goosed (!) one of my other co-workers, a woman in her thirties. Keep in mind this is an eighteen year old girl, grabbing a woman she barely knew and almost twice her age. Maria, needless to say, was not terribly happy.

Hmm. This was meant to be a rant on St. Patrick’s Day, but turned into one about Beanie. Oh well. Another endearing incident I just recalled, involving Beanie and a pissed-off co-worker: Eddie, the front desk guy, happens to be a dwarf. Not to be confused with a midget, whose proportions are all small; Eddie is normally sized except for his legs, which are much shorter. Anyway, it was winter as I recall, and accordingly the heating system was turned to broiling. We were all sweating inside the office and Eddie’s face was a little redder than usual. Beanie came by the front desk to pester us (I think the document people were ignoring her as usual), when she suddenly told Eddie, “hey! You look just like a - what are those things from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the orange things…”

“…Oompa loompas?” I supplied, without thinking.

“Yeah! You look just like an Oompa Loompa!” she pointed at Eddie, giggling. I just gaped at her in shock - then Eddie looked like he wanted to punch Beanie in the face.

Ahh. Sometimes I miss my old-old job, but then I remember that Beanie still works there, and she’s waiting, with outstretched fingers.