Sunday is Cinco de Mayo, which might not be the greatest drinking holiday on the calendar, but it’s a drinking holiday all the same and therefore must be treasured. That it falls on a Sunday makes it all the better. Nothing to get in the way of all-day debauchery!
But I won’t be throwing up tequila by 5 p.m. because I have to spend time with relatives celebrating Greek Easter, which this year coincides with Cinco de Mayo. Dammit, I’m on the losing side of an ETHNIC HOLIDAY CLASH!
What’s worse, the Greek Easter celebration I have to attend is in f*cking Baltimore, because the only white people left in Baltimore are Greeks and broke hipsters who can’t afford D.C. or New York.
This would be understandable if I had any Greek heritage, but I do not. I have no blood connection to my Greek relatives. I have no Greek heritage because that would give me a small slice of minor ethnicity, and I can’t have that because it would take away from me being the whitest white boy in the world. My mom’s sister married a Greek guy and now I’m stuck forever spending select holidays in cold rise-house apartment activity rooms being nice to 900-year-old women named Ya Ya. I’m being sucked into a holiday in which the biggest highlight is eating lamb instead of getting drunk off my ass and eating far tastier Mexican food.
Why do you need your own Easter, Greek people? YOU CAN’T AFFORD IT. You should sell off your Easter to, say, Islam and reap some oil money to restore your devastated economy. Or just stop scheduling it up against superior holidays. F*ck off, Greek Easter. You aren’t even the best Easter.