Don’t get me wrong, I love having a St. Patrick’s Day birthday. It’s not a major holiday like Christmas, Thanksgiving or Easter that would overrun any other celebration. St. Patrick’s Day is basically a party holiday, and it’s great having a birthday that everyone celebrates. It’s especially poignant with this being my 40th birthday.

However, the one thing that irks me is the holiday’s obsession with green.

I want a beer that isn’t doused with food coloring. I want a cake that doesn’t have green frosting or feature a four-leaf clover. I don’t want to be asked if I’m Irish or if I’ve found my pot of gold or if U2 is my favorite band, too.

And any soul who doth forsake my color green on my day, thou shalt kill.

I don’t wear green out of principle on my birthday. (And before you ask, not even my underwear. I go commando.) When I told my stepson this (who was seven at the time), he was horrified. “How do you avoid getting pinched?!” He howled.

That’s simple, I said. I go to HR.