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Archive for the ‘ Party ’ Category

Look what’s new and Mardi Gras


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Well, I know… It ain’t all that. And I don’t use the word “ain’t” lightly. Sometimes there’s just a place for it. It’s not the old HalfAsstic mast head with all the style and flair, yet it’s not that ridiculous country lane with the dude skulking off in the distance making you wonder what the hell he’d been up to and is he about to break into a run, and are those police lights coming up the road behind him and is he staggering?

Yeah. One of the many default looks, but it got old fast and never looked remotely HalfAsstic.

This one? Not perfect, yet much better.

 

Now, I am going to try to do better about posting. You have probably heard that from me in the past few years, and I meant it, too. Every single time.

John and I went to Mardi Gras in Galveston the other day. We were invited by a distributing company that supplies beer to his store. We were part of a private party that was on a balcony on The Strand and it was very la tee da.

I’m not sure how much my readers all know about Mardi Gras. It is a very southern experience, and if you’re not from down here it’s probably not something the typical person would know anything much about.

Being on a balcony we were expected to throw beads. Lots and Lots of beads.

 

This was inside, and really I didn’t spend too much time here. Mostly I was freezing my ass off outside with John.

It was so packed out there it was almost impossible to take pictures except of the street below. And it was too far away for the flash to work well, so really? Not too many good pictures of the crowd or parade.

See the necklaces with the really big beads on John’s and my neck? Guess what the crowd below is expected to do in order to get one of those thrown to them?

Mardi Gras etiquette. No, really. I’m serious.

The first person to respond in comments with the correct answer, I will do something… fabulous for.

Did I mention, it got a bit nippy out there?

Cooooold John

Heh! When he finally remembered he wore a shirt with a hood, he didn’t bother to pull his bling to the outside of it before cinching it up. He is holding my drink along with his beer in order for me to take the picture.

All he needs is a couple of cute, long, white ears and he’d look just like the little white bunny on Craig Ferguson.

When it finally became too cold for us to adequately distribute beads we moved on inside and were entertained by none other than Elvis.

Fer Real, people.

And not the old, fat Elvis in the white jumpsuit, either. This guy sounded EXACTLY like him, too.

We chatted with friends, had a few drinks, and danced a good deal. Eventually Elvis had a wardrobe change and came back like this:

He was singing all his hits and we were having a ball. While John and I were out there “getting down”, he all of the sudden grinned and pointed over my shoulder. When I turned around, Elvis was…. making advances to me.

I quickly accessed the situation, ran my hands up and down his chest then threw my arms around his neck and he dipped me.

I don’t think he ever stopped singing or got too far away from the microphone. Very talented professional.

But what would you expect from Elvis?

We met a lot of interesting people…

And had a lot of fun.

I wish you could have all been there with us!

 

 

TOE-GAH TOE-GAH TOE-GAH!


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You know how it is when people are waiting to see something that you are responsible for showing them and you show up and give it to them and everyone is like, “What?  That’s IT?  That’s ALL?  That’s all you’ve got?” ?  And there are some disgusted looks and rude remarks about your being incompetent and how you talk a good game but don’t deliver and let downs and rude assumptions about your parentage…

Well, don’t worry.  I’ve got pictures.  Just not a lot of them.  And it’s not cause John wouldn’t let me, either.  It’s mostly because there just didn’t seem to be any time.

Yesterday afternoon the lady throwing the shindig at her house, next door, came over and told me that it wasn’t going to start until 8:00 instead of 7:00.  At the time I thought this was a good thing since John is having to work such long days right now and is getting in so late in general.  It would make it easier for him to finish up at work and make it on time.  Well, he barely did.  I was all ready to go and I threw him together and we took off for next door.  The party went on till after 1:00 AM, people.  We sat around the table and discussed our theories of who did what and played our roles and it really was fun but, by the end, everyone was stifling yawns.  And poor John had gotten up at 5:30 AM and had to do it again this morning along with having an incredibly busy day with it being Superbowl Sunday.

In the end, NOBODY guessed the murderer.  Out of 20 people.  NOBODY.  So the person who was throwing it, pulled a name out of a bowl and it was Cesar.  I screamed out that it was rigged and I wanted a recount.  Cesar issued a warrant for my arrest and,  eventually, when I reached “trial”, he sentenced me to be beheaded.  Luckily the party ended soon and I escaped with my head.  (Lucky?  Whatever.)

Here’s the group of us.  John is the pretty, tall woman in the pink organza veil in the back.  I am the proud Roman Senator oozing testosterone and struggling not to adjust my crotch while the picture is being snapped, standing in front of him to the right a tad.

I would like to point out here that John started out with false eyelashes that had glitter on them and you can maybe see the bunch of grapes hanging around his neck on a gold cord?  Yeah, there were two of them, strategically placed so that he had fruit hanging in front of each “boob”.  I can’t tell you how many times I had to snap at men there to keep their hands off his, (I mean her)  melons, er, I mean grapes.  I mean you’d be surprised how hard it is to look after the virtue of a Vestal Virgin.  Repeatedly, I had to tell people to keep their hands off him her.  She was so cute and coy, blushing and batting her eyelashes when I slapped her on the butt…  I told her that I’d take her home with me and show her my etchings.

It worked!

John’s glittered eyelashes…  He didn’t keep them on very long.  About two hours into the party he said they were bugging him too much and he snatched them off.  There was disappointment from all the men in the room who had told him he “looked pretty”.  And, frankly, I think some of the women were jealous.

Clearly, I need a shave.  But I think the most disturbing thing is how BIG some of my hair follicles are.  There’s something strange going on here…  I don’t know why they aren’t all showing up on my upper lip.  I had it there just as heavy, OR, maybe I wasn’t done with the application when I took this.  I don’t remember.

And remember that UTI that I so lovingly shared about with you, yesterday?  Yeah.  Still haven’t gotten a thank you card for that and I am considering holding my breath till I do.  I’m just saying…

Well to show what kind of a good sport I am, I am including a gratuitous shot of the full catheter bag this morning.

I have two immediate emotions here:

1. Yeaaaaaa!  A working catheter!  No more pee diapers!!!

2. What the hell is that in the bag?

Crap.  It looks like…. pumpkin juice?  Now, do you really think she’s going to be able to wait until Tuesday or Wednesday when the analysis is back and the Dr. gets around to prescribing an antibiotic?  I bet she’s in the hospital by tomorrow or Tuesday…


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