Some of the finest people I know live in Tacoma. A few select individuals I like to call my best friends. There's the KAke, Gayle Selden (G-love), and BanditoBetty. They have seen me do some pretty horrid things, and yet they still want to hang out with me. Suckers.

Recently, BanditoBetty and I decided to throw down a few at Paddy Coyne's. It was after a Tacoma Beer Society meeting, and apparently we thought we hadn't had enough. It was to the point where I had to pee every 10 minutes. That's right, I had uncorked.

I had plenty of toilet time, and plenty of time for thinking on the toilet.

Paddy Coyne's pumps voices of Irish comedians throughout its bathrooms. I really have NO idea what the F they are saying, but whatever it is, that Irish audience laughs and laughs and laughs.

Then I started thinking about how the stereotypical Irishman likes to fight. The Fighting Irish, right? Then I started thinking about fights involving me.

I've been in one physical fight. That was in the seventh-grade, and it was with Heather Few. I stood on my Texas history book and punched her in the stomach. She was taller. The Texas History book was damn thick. Here's to history.

The rest of my fights have been very verbal. I like to let the profanity flow when I am in a heated argument. It's no holds barred with cuss words. I like to use the C-word, and it especially pisses guys off when a woman calls them a pussy. Trust me, you'll win an argument every time if you pull that P-word weapon out.
Sometimes my husband is my partner in fights. I start them and he sticks up for me. Now don't go thinking I'm off with a loose mouth just starting useless bar brawls. It's not like that at all. These are just times that I've had enough of certain things, and I can't keep my mouth shut. Let's just say I stick up for the little man.

And no, I'm not talking about the little people.

I used to work for a childcare facility. One day it was a teacher in-service, so we had 50 kids for the entire day playing in the actual elementary school. On full days we would rent bounce houses, sing, play games, and do art. I'm telling you, it was a BLAST.

This one time at childcare, while the kids waited in line for the bounce house, I kept them occupied with a game. They were really into the game and cheering each other on. Apparently this irritated the janitor. He started yelling at the kids, telling them to shut up, and yelling at me. I was appalled and immediately became angry. I took him outside, out of kid earshot, and read him the riot act. My husband just happened to be pulling up to have lunch with us and overheard us. He jumped in and went after the janitor as well. It was a time when we were watching a lt of Sopranos,and my husband, being Italian, well, I think he thought he should be Tony Soprano. He yelled Soprano speak.

I think to this day, I am still banned from that elementary school. it's nothing to be ashamed of. Just means I did my job scaring the janitor.

As I open the wooden door to my bathroom stall, admire the Irish decor, wash my hands, dry them on paper towels, and throw them away in the trash located conveniently next to the door (FINALLY a smart bathroom), I brace myself for another round of beer with BanditoBetty. Hopefully with no fights.¬" Steph DeRosa