Sexy, from the top to hide the chins, blurred and mysterious, cropped
out the boobies, selfie...

I am Irish, yes I am, despite the tan and scottish/maoriness, my great great grandfathers name was O'Keefe.  I am hoping they are the same O'Keefe's that spawned Georgia, but I won't hold my breath.  
So, right now, by rights, I should be  in a pub wearing a  Celtic football jersey and getting shit faced with the rest of my bredren.  
But I'm not because I don't drink...not because I'm a wowzer (ha, as if anyone under 50 knows what that word means anymore) but because I'm a raving alcoholic.
Not a "lying in the gutter drinking meths" sort of alcoholic but a "once I have one drink I can't stop untill I'm unconcious"  type.
For the past many many many years, I haven't had a drink of a alcoholic nature except for Christmas, when I get plastered with my kids.  (That sounds terrible but I so don't care)
 I  might actually knock that on the head this year as it takes a good three weeks for me to recover from that sort of indulgence.  Which will piss my husband off, because I am a  lovely  touchy feely drunk. In fact  I get flirty, funny and irish...honestly...when drunk I become Irish with a county Kerry.  Which, wierdly, is where my irishness originated from.  
County Kerry is gorgeous and green with mountains  fields and beaches.  It is steeped in myths and legends and spirituality and many saints arrived on Irish soil there.  
I doubt,  it was that wonderful place at the time  my ancestor decided to get the feck off out of there, since people were starving and dying all around him. 
Luckily the guy got here, to this beautiful place and through the concrete mixer of time I was eventually created.  
So, shout out to my cuzzy's  from the Emerald Isle, have a wonderful fabalis day and
 to be sure, to be sure, to be sure and a diddly diddly dee :)

Is breá liom tú