| 6:28 p.m. | Mardi Gras in a nutshell | 2003-03-05 |
| Reaped | �Oh, the birds of disorder are crossing the continent No one knows whither and no one knows why And softly, softly, the ones I love Are getting ready to die � Frederic Prokosch 1939 Mardi gras stole my memory, but I�ll try for all intents & purposes to summarize in a logical, coherent way. So when was the last update? Mmm hmmm. Last Wednesday. Damn that�s a long time for me. But anyway� Wednesday: Rainy. Sister�s plane delayed by an hour. Wait out delay in airport bar, listening to frat boys describe the �hot chick in my finance class� with �the finest tight ass�. Crab adopts stray Himalayan cat, dubs him "Rasputin". Sister opts for 'Donnie Darknuts', for obvious reasons. Thursday: All work and no play make Homer something something. Beginning of day spent indoctrinating sister into tribe of Invader Zim. Then: shopping, smoking, drinking, parades. Catch awesome silver teddy bear throw at Muses. Friday: Smoke, drink, parade, repeat. Crab receives notice that the Pensacola people are en route. What is good: he hasn�t seen his friends since leaving G�ville two years ago. And bad: one of them�s bringing a girlfriend, AND GUESS WHAT? SHE�S UNDERAGE. Allocate this problem to Crab. Attend post parade pool-side kegger. Sister fends off extremely boring male in an extremely hip suit & Diesel hat. Happen upon nose candy, consume, go out to Les Bon Temps and meet amazingly beautiful latin boys with names like Julio. Mr. XXXX arrives sometime before dawn, attempt drive to Matt�s house, give up after massive pothole-detour confuses drug addled & inebriated brains. Saturday: Domestic beer and no play make Weezer something something. Hung over? Don�t mind if I do! Attend parades anyway, frequent trips for upset stomach inevitable. Luckily, many illegally parked SUVs make great cover & receptacles for last night�s alcohol orgy. Hangover eradicated with consumption of chocolate �shroom truffles. Sister judged fit to party after successful trip devoid of freak outs, while underage girlfriend deemed most annoying girl on earth after multiple bitch sessions concerning, well, everything. Bump into Matt & company on the corner, hop in their BMW & cruise Magazine to the fine sounds of NWA. Bar hopping ensues. Finish the evening with a late night hot tub romp at Matt�s house. Mr. XXX stays to continue the party, loses cel phone in parts unknown but gains Bloody Mary stain on shirt. Sunday: My. Liver. Hurts. Pensacola people bid farewell. Bacchus Ball in the evening: it�s prom for adults! Meet Mike�s parents, get dirty looks from debutantes, pick up lines from old white men and a dance or two from the notorious non-dancing Crab. Cheer Jon Lovitz as king & catch a shitload of good beads. Moon is escorted off a float by three policemen, which I miss, and chastised by Mike for hitting on old white men, which I find amusing since I was the one who started talking to them, not her. Monday: Sleep? No thanks, its Mardi gras. Or Lundi Gras. Whichever, still had to drag my sorry ass up at 7:30 in the morning to call in, since Mr. XXXX had to be dropped off in fucking SLIDELL for his ride. From Slidell it�s straight to work to grace everyone with the stench of last night�s alcohol for 5 hours. By the time I�m home it�s raining like a bitch, that freezing pissing shit that gives you pneumonia. Hence, we spend the evening playing scrabble, drinking and of course, doing the Mardi Gras eightball, as the parades roll on without us. Upon inspection of my Mardi Gras booty, Crab & my Muses beads are missing. THE GOOD COLLECTABLE ONES. Crab bans Mr. XXXX from the house as we suspect he is the culprit. Yeah, that�s right bitch, you�re fucking UN-invited from my house until further notice. Fucking just ask next time. Sorry, almost done here�. Tuesday: the fattest of them all. Drive Sister to the airport, eat greasy breakfast. Upon return, dress as a character from the ridiculously obscure Prisoner series on BBC & walk to parades with Mike. Mike�s mom deems me �cutest girl of all�. Foster�s oil can provides party lubricant. Later, grocery store-hop to find one that�s OPEN on Fat Tuesday, buy beer, BBQ sauce & chicken, consume. Go home, read The Nanny Diaries heave a heavy sigh of relief that its all over & finally get some good sleep. And that, my dears, was Mardi gras in a nutshell. I�m going to smoke now. More pinings, wanderings & bitchings to come, as always. |
Sown |
| Fresh Cut
New digs - 2004-05-25 Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10 Grumble - 2004-05-07 Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05 Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05 Random Shearings Rings |
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