I'm divorced now, but I was married for 13 years to an Irishman, a real one, straight off the boat from Dublin. With a whiskey in hand, and a song in his heart. The best part about him was the Ireland factor. The only real bad thing was the bar fights he'd get into in our garage, with me. Oh, he never touched me, but the stupid things he'd say would make me want to break a chair over my own head.
One time he took me to Ireland to meet each and every one of his relatives. My favorite was his Grandpa Kevin. We knocked, and this ENORMOUS old man comes to the door. He hugs his grandson, and over his shoulder sees me. He throws Peter to the side, grabs me by my face and says
Cute What?! Hmmm. Wow. Didn’t know how to take that.....Turns out it means "You lucky bastard." I would soon learn plenty more Irish-isms... If something’s fantastic, it's not the bee’s knees, or the cat’s meow...no its the "Dog’s Bollocks" This confused me in later years when my mother in law told me I was a "Pathetic Excuse for a Wife."