friday night was my first mardi gras experience. the neighborhood i live in has its own warm up parade the night before the big baton rouge spanish town parade.

the previous two nights at teddy’s had taken their toll to some extent, and i was already feeling pretty green before the weekend even came around.

i went over to neil’s before and had sazeracs to get tuned up a bit before we stepped outside to watch.

the parade was short, sweet, and tame. i caught some beads and even got the baby in the king cake at neil’s.

feet wetting.

[Show as slideshow]

heavenly wine and roses
seems to whisper to her when she smiles …

sweet, sweet jane!

however, i woke up punctured.

still got a bit of this cold thing. coughing, congested, touch of the brown bottle flu in the mix to boot. i layed in bed and told lefty, ‘i feel terrible.’ he stared back with soulful brown eyes, clueless to my misery, needing badly to shit.

i get up, blow my nose, stagger around, put on a sweatshirt. knock at the door …

some young guy standing there. clean cut, shirt tucked in. towel hanging out of his pocket. i see his duffel bag laying about twenty feet behind him in the yard. what follows is our exchange:

‘are you the man of the house?’

‘what?’

‘sir, are you the man of the house?’

‘oh, yeah. are you here because of the green thing?’

‘ah, yeah, it’s a sort of a green thing.’

‘are you here for the sewer?’

‘no, no, sir. not the sewer.’

(my confusion here stems from a green piece of paper that was hanging on my front door yesterday. denise came over to practice and she handed it to me. here’s a bit of the information it provided:

Within the next few days the Department of Public Works will be conducting sewer “Smoke Testing” in this area. During the test, it is normal for smoke to emit from your roof stacks. If your plumbing is not properly functioning, smoke may enter your home or business. If this occurs, open your doors and windows for ventilation.)

at this point he whips out a squirt bottle.

‘we’re trying to get people to switch to more environmental cleaning supplies. you just mix a tablespoon of this with a pint of water and it’ll take any kind of mildew or mold off any surface.’

now he starts spraying down the post of my front porch, a post that is completely covered in the south east louisiana moss/mold/fungus/ whatever the fuck it is.

‘see i can take all this off for you.’

now i’m in damage control. i’m a renter, i’m not interested, talk to the landlord.

he persists.

‘is that your escort over there?’

‘yes it is.’

‘you know you have oxidation on your lights? i can take that right off for you.’

at this point i come clean.

‘dude, i just woke up. i’m fucking hungover. i got shit to do. good luck.’

‘alright, man. take it easy.’

‘yeah man. good luck.’

i’m supposed to be writing about plato right now. i have to turn in a short paper in three short hours. i’m almost done, but my head is not alright right now. coffee is not working. i might need to heat up my teddy’s grub. i might need to take a sudafed. i might need to lay down and cry for a while.

i’m in damage control.

with a few extra lsu students and teddy’s virgins in tow, i walked into a jam that was lacking a drummer, and was on stage before i got my coat off and before i got a beer. by the end of the first song (still hadn’t sipped a beer) a young woman – cute, shapely, completely fucked up – was an stage showing her tits to the audience. alright, that’s pretty standard fare. she, however, kicked it up a notch as emeril would say, and turned her tits toward the band in a most creative manner i.e. hitting my ride cymbal with her tits, rubbing them on the strings of the bass guitar, etc. she ended by sitting on my lap (i’m still trying to play) while pushing a nipple towards my mouth. keep in mind i was completely sober, so i was in control of my faculties, and imagined some guy was with her, hiding in the dark corners of teddy’s, waiting to put a bullet in my head as soon as i touched his ole lady. so i contained myself. she didn’t, and teddy eventually had to throw her off the stage. not because he was opposed to her nudity, oh no. but rather because he didn’t want anybody ‘fucking up my equipment. this shit costs a lot of money. if somebody breaks it, i got to pay for it.’ go get it teddy.

i got home that night and realized i had left my jacket at the bar. so the next afternoon i’m out at teddy’s in the day time picking up my jacket. the place wasn’t open yet at 2 pm. different vibe during the day … just a bunch of old houses in the middle of nowhere. the bartender took me into the back door of the bar into what appeared to be a small apartment. the bedroom had a coat rack on the wall, and the bartender picked my coat out of all the ones that were there without asking me which one was mine. we bull shitted in the parking lot a bit before i left. wednesday falls on the day before t-giving next week, and hooch and sarah will be here. can’t wait.

a slightly less filthy story, yet still funny to me, involves a quick stop at calandro’s. calandro’s is the oldest grocery store in baton rouge. nice little place. older clientele. friendly. so i’m standing behind two old birds waiting to grab a half gallon of milk when one of the ladies turns to me, on sight, and says, “ooh, look at you good looking, gimme a hug, get over here.” 82 years old. complete stranger. big hug. proceeds to talk about how nice my teeth look and how smart and handsome i am. hugged me three or four times before we finished up. that was a new one. i’ve never been grabbed out of the milk isle and hugged several times before. i loved it.