Buggies and Starburst

I bought a couple VW Beetles a couple months ago. An eggshell coloured '73 and a vibrant sky blue '71 that was just a gutted shell- no insides.

Sooooo I met a guy who knew a guy, and I put the blue fenders and hood on the white beetle. Yeah. He name is Gladys and she looks like a badass. It goes without saying, she gets a lot of looks, sometimes a smile or two, and of course the classic wave-down-and-scream "I LOVE YOUR CAR!"

On a particular day, I left my Starburst in the seat of said car and when I got back in to drive, I really wanted one. They were all melty in their little packages and I was so sad, as would anyone awesome. Driving down the highway by the beach, I did the first thing that came to mind I could think of.

Held the deliciousness out the window to cool off.

Because seriously. Who just waits for Starbursts to cool off? No one can resist the magical taste, especially when you know it's just sittin there in the seat next to you.

As I'm driving and holding out my candies like Lady Liberty of Juicy Flavours, some young hippy lookin dude with his posse of other probably less-than-clean swags looks at me with an expression I can't quite describe.

Unlike the rest of his pals, he stops walking, holds in something that looks like a football stance and holds his hands wide.... but not as wide as his mouth. His expression was excited. Or maybe he peed... came a little? Either way, he goes all Breakfast Club on me and throws his fist into the air and proceeds to shout, "YEAHHH!! BEETLES AND CANDY!! WOOOOH! THROW ME SOME CANDY!"

I was long past him by then, but to the gentleman that screamed that, if I ever see you again, consider yourself pelted with candy. I went out and bought a bag just in case I ever see you again.

Internetless But Still Rockin

I know it's been quite some time since my last post. Being internetless has proved to be inconvenient in more ways than one. But it's been over a year and still I press on.

Anywho, this occasion of blog is dedicated to the family of which this scenario is kinda about. Just kinda.


As most of you know (and to my new readers every day who don't) I moved back to the dirty south.  My mema is here and plus... there ain't no place like the dirty south.

On my weekends from work, as per usual, I go to see my mema. She lives about thirty minutes away in the next city and I always like to make the best of the drive by cranking the music with delicious bass and dashboard dancing like there's no tomorrow.

On the way home from mema's I popped the newest Macklemore album (the shit by the way; this man makes a good name for the rap genre).  Staring at the penis cloud overhead, lipsyncing like nobody's business, I come to a stoplight. This light seemed to go on forever. In the midst of my aggressive dance gestures, I can feel someone to my right staring at me.  I look, and it's an older guy with three kids in the car, ages ranging from probably eleven to six. He has a smile on my face, and starts tapping at his kids telling them to look my way.

I do what any other enjoyable individual would do in said situation- turn it up, roll down the window and start lipsyncing to the children. They were all rather amused. As was the guy in the car to my left. But he's not the inspiration behind my writing. Another story another day.

Either way.

The light turns green, and I smile back at the children as I speed....to the next stoplight. So here we are again, the kids now dancing as well when I notice the small child in the back seat trying to tell me something. I turned down the music for a split second, she yelled to me, "Do the funky chicken!"

I looked at her as a maggot looks at his commanding officer. Yes. Ma'am.

I cranked it, and started wildly doing the funky chicken as best I could. The children were satisfied and the light turned green. I drove off dashboard dancing into the sunset.  A happy fairy tale ever after.

Vegas or New Oreans? That Is The Question

Alright churrins, I finally have time again to write... Let's do a little update with my life eh?

Been working 16 hours a day... bartender in the day, housekeeper at night.
I got the barback position.
Bartender in the day. Barback at night.
I hate the bar I worked for.
No more day bartending.
Barback by night. Life is sweet.



That's pretty much what this blog is about.. all of my awesome adventures of the process that got me to where I am now, and then I kinda want some input on what I should do for the future.

When I moved back to Mississippi, this has been my plan for a very long time- bartending. Whatever it was that I had planned to do, school, other jobs, whatever- my main goal was to be a bartender to support myself.  That and I've always thought as bartenders as the coolest people. Always so chill. So personable. Got swag.

Getting paid to talk to people and get them drunk? Sounds like my kind of job.

But I found out quickly that bartending isn't like it was in the north.. there's a certain amount of skill that people want you to have. To be certified. To be quick yet clean about it. Professional.  I knew there was a school for it, but I waited months to even check it out. I was thinking I had to pay for the school in full. One day I decided I was done waiting. I was getting impatient and wanted things to roll now now now! I drove to the school nearest me - about thirty minutes to the next city.

I walked in and talked to the administer. He walked me through the school, showed me the gaming part of the school with all sorts of gambling tables and also the bartending side of the school.
"You can make a lot more money as a dealer" he told me, ranting on about the money figures.
"That's cool and all, but I just want to bartend."
"You can. We have financial aid programs for doing both."
"That's really great. But all I want to do is bartend."

I found out that day that I don't even have to start paying for my schooling until six months after I graduate. I came in that following week and started The first week in February. Three month class. Five days a week. Five hours a day. Add that on top of a grave shift job, and you have yourself one hell of a messed up schedule.

But I did it. For three months. Always showed up on time for work and school. There was a hiccup once or twice but the point was that I made it. In the beginning the months seemed to drag but as time went on, and now that I am finished, I see that it went by so quickly. 

Immediately I applied for the open barback positions at my casino resort I was already working at. I talked to Human resources, called who I could, even had my instructor at the bartending school call up there. I wanted the job so badly.

Next thing I know, the head calls me up and tells me to come in for an interview. Hells the fuck yeah. When can I do it? Whenever your little heart desires. I went in the next morning, right after work and right before school. I told the instructor I would be late but he was cool about it. I mean. This is what I am going to school for!

I didn't think I would get the job to be honest. Just the way I kinda got looked at. Ohh Thibs is a girl...

"You know what this job is don't you? He asked.
"Yes sir. Barback."
"That's a lot of lifting a night. Lots of running around. Picking up beer cases."
"Yes sir. This is what I want to do. I heard you have to be a barback first before you become a bartender here."
"That's right. Usually we have guys as barbacks..."
"This is what I want to do. I have been in this company for nine months now. I would like to stay in this company, but if you don't want me to have a job here, that's fine. I will go to New Orleans like I planned or maybe even Vegas where the money is. Either way, I'm going to get into this business whether it be here or not."
He leans back. Smiles. Nods his head. "Alright." He says.
"Look," I smirk,"don't let the pretty dress and the nice heels fool you. I did this for the interview process. I am a tough gal. This is what I want to do."
"Thank you for your time. I should be giving you a call sometime this week," He said as we both got up and shook hands.

I really didn't think I got it. I almost wanted to cry.

The interview was at nine that morning.
Class started at ten.
It wasn't even noon before I got the call back, telling me that I was hired.
I was so excited I started to cry.

It was one of those moments in life where you have gotten shit on and shit on for the longest time and when something finally goes your way you can't help but smile.

Everyone I have met at work is cool too. They tell me, "You'll move fast to be a bartender. Some of the ones we have don't even know as much as you and they were only barback for a couple months." That gives me hope.
Some of them told me, "You're the chick? We've never had a chick barback. That's cool. You're the first."  And that also makes me feel empowered. I like doing things that people say I can't do. Most everyone appreciates that feeling and knows what I am talking about..


So here is my question for poll.. After giving it a good year or so at this casino, any suggestions for my next step? I have heard that Vegas is full of hard people but there is a good living to be made. A very good living. I also heard that New Orleans is a good living to be made and is a little more laid back as far as the type of people... I can see myself living in either place and rolling with the punches no matter where I go but I guess I just want a say. What you think?

Until next time my dedicated followers!

India Comes to Amurrica

Alright, so last month I had my very first bartending gig. You'll have to forgive me for being so late on actually writing something about it because I have no internet and getting to the library between school and work proved to be improbable. But back to the point- yes, my very first bartending gig. 700 guests. 5 bartenders. 1 wedding. GO.

First to note- this was a genuine Indian wedding- dot Indian, not feather Indian. It was extravagant and beautiful- traditional dances, the dresses, the million guests, the food; such a sight.

We were to show up at 4:30pm to start set up- the open bar was to start at 6:30. No big deal, plenty of time right? Not when you have no idea where the alcohol is for the shindig and the person in charge is no where to be found until 5:30.

So we scramble to get the four bars set up- having to shovel ice in our little bins and take it from the ice machine to the complete opposite side of the building to where our bars were to be set up. 6:29 comes around and guests are already antsy. We bartenders found out something very quickly that day... those of India are alcoholics man.

Don't get all racial-judemental on me, this damn blog is for comedic true-story purposes. Gonna start going off on me, get the eff off my blog.

Anywhozers, So we're pouring our ounce-to-glass ratios, and the guests are not having it.
"More."
"Make it a double"
"No ice"
"Half the glass full"
and our personal favourite, "I would like Johnnie Walker with a little water." It would be your favourite too if you've ever heard an Indian say that in their accent.

So we're slinging drinks before the ceremony- it was only a one hour happy hour, the ceremony, then the release of the guests again to drink until midnight. God help us all.
I don't mean to make it sound overly atrocious because it wasn't. I mean. Well. We had fun. But I'll be damned if that ever happens again. You know what I mean. Moving on.

When the first hour was ending, the masses all came up slowly but surely, "Just one more please. Just one more."
"No. We are supposed to head you into the ballroom now. We will be open later."
Mean mugs were the general consensus. Not like we cared- this was our job. Still, smiles and all, directing people into the ballroom. A guy comes up from the side of me, "Do you have a glass you can tap on or something? We need these people to head inside."
I smiled, "No, but I'm pretty damn loud. Want me to make an announcement?"
"Oh that would be great."
SLAM SLAM SLAM! My hand on the bar. That got their attention,
"HEY! I need everyone to head into the ballroom so that the ceremony may start. Thank you for your cooperation!"
"You weren't kidding," The guy said as he stood there watching them like cattle, all filtering into the ballroom.

As we were filling up on ice, cutting more limes, and moving the bars inside to our next position, a couple cops come over to us, "I would like a rum and coke," says one of them.
"Sorry sir. Not gonna serve you on duty."
He sat there and waited.
"Really?"
"Really really." Not looking back up to respond, tending to my limes.
That's right, stupid piggy, no special treatment for you.
After getting all situated in our new areas, the announcement was made that the drinking was to commence.

It got to the point where the guests would try to overrun our bartenders, stepping behind the bar for them. Myself and a couple others had to step in with balls of steal and a little force," Sir, we will get to you. There are only 4 of us. We are paid to do this. We are trying." So on and so forth.

I went from the nice ginger bartender to the cutthroat get-your-fucking-drink-and-go bartender.

By the end of the evening, we were all pretty wiped of the demands. Then they started asking for shots, and having a limited bar, you learn quickly to blow shit outta your ass.

"We want eight shots! What can you make into shots?"
"A Hawaiian Bomb." Whatever the fuck that is....
"Ohh! Sounds good! Yeah, Hawaiian Bombs!"
I threw some vodka in a mixing tin with some cranberry and orange juices..(later to remember that when not in shot form, that is an actual drink called a Madras.) now when I say some, I mean I slight splashes. My main goal at this point was to sauce them up so they would stop coming. They kept coming....
Then, as we are putting away our bars, the crowd gets all "I'm-not-sauced-enough" attitudes on us, and start asking for more shots.

"Thirty shots. We need thirty shots," the guy yells over the music.
I look to either side of me at my coworkers. They are all scrambling to clean things, put things away, get it outta there.
"If I make y'all shots, you gotta take em and go. I have limited counter space," I say very firmly.
I shake and strain the first ten. None are budging. "I'm not kidding," I said,"take em. We wanna leave." They finally start going, but the empty shot cups instantly come back on the counter.
"Oh no you don't," I said, "You can throw those away in the trash ten feet to your right."
They looked at me as if I shit on their prized goat.
"Still not kidding." I said, trying to force at least a smirk.
Whilst in the middle of juggling 20 more shots and another drink, some dude comes at me from the side,"I would like a rum and coke."
"Sure sure, but I'm very busy and you'll have to wait a minute sir."
Another guy comes from the side of the first one,"Hey! This is the guy that bought all the alcohol!"
As if that means something to me. "Yeah, cool. Still doesn't make me go any faster," I said very dryly, still half a smirk.
"I'm only kidding," he responds, also trying to force a smile.
"I'm not." I said back.

Finally all the shots out of the way, the buyer was pleased, we were putting up when another guy comes outta no where- "We want wine for the groom and all his friends."
Kandy puts a bottle on the counter for him and continues putting things away.
"You're not going to serve it?" He asks.
"Nope. We're getting out of here. Our time is up." Someone said. We were all just about done with this shenanigans- already cutting it close to the time of closing our bars.

Finally the guy in charge comes over, tells us we did a great job, and thanks us for our patience. We put the alcohol away, found all of our equipment, got paid, and headed for the Hard Rock to mellow down.

Moral of the story children? Sauce them up when it is an open bar, flirt enough, and by the end of the night, you'll always have a decent amount of tips.

Allergic at Lost Lake

Well unlike all my other tites, this one pretty much explains it, so with little introduction, I'll let my story unfurl itself.

I had been waiting a year to go to a place that was always said to me as just a really cool place. No one would describe it to me. No one would tell me what was there. Other than the fact that it was "really awesome", commentary complimentary via friends, I had no idea about it. 

Lost Lake. They always left early in the morning and didn't come home until almost sun down. Being grounded about 90% of my high school carreer was my reason for never having been to such a mysterious place.

Then college came.

One day, my delightful being Alton decided to take me. "It's a long trip." He told me, saying I should grab a snack or something.  Then we were off. It wasn't incredibly early though still some time before noon. The car ride was nice. Smiles and giggles. Some damn hippy music no one's probably ever heard before. Headed to a place I've never been to before. Nothing out of the ordinary for a time being with Alton.

We arrive In a small town I'd only been to a few times before. Everyone I knew referred to it as the 'crater in the ground'. Just a city that is in a giant hole in the middle of nowhere but man can they have 4th of July celebrations...

Across a bridge I've never seen anyone drive on before. Onto a road where the pavement turns copper coloured.
"What?" I asked, smiling with curiosity.
"What?" He smiled, mocking me. "Bet you didn't know about this hidden highway did you?"
I just watched the road. I still can't remember where we took turns, left, right, past a town of population:6, over the tall grasses..
Somehow we got there.

He pulled off the side of the road to a sign that warned NO TRESSPASSING or some other kind of warning. I took a picture of it with my disposable camera. For those of you born in the middle of the damn 90's and younger, that's a camera you take pictures with until you can take no more on the roll, hand it in to someone that develops the pictures, and then you get your paper copy of the pictures within an hour or a day. I know. Old people technology. So weird.

Past the sign it really was the strangest thing to see. I'll tell you the secrets of this 'Lost Lake'. There were rocks. Boulders. Large boulders everywhere on flat ground from what I could see.

"This was a lake once?" I asked.
"You'll see." He smiled, mocking tone. Mocking. Always mocking me. He's my favourite. We walked towards the large boulders. First, sparse, then kinda piled up on some kind of cliff. We neared that cliff and then I understood.

I felt my mouth drop and my smile widen, "What? No way! How? How does that even exist?"

I looked down off the sheer cliff and below, there it was- Lost Lake.  I would say that the surrounding canyon imitated the shape of a football field. But bigger. Much. Much. Bigger.  With a little... well, lake looking body of water in the middle. Definitely not swimmable. I held on to Alton, being afraid of heights, and spit off the cliff. I watched it until it was a spec, and then wondered if it actually ever hit the ground. That's just how monsterous this place was.

"Can we get down there?" I asked him. "Well duh. Come around here."
We went to the far end of the side we were on to where the walls started to curve.  Alton was running around on the way there, hiding here, parkour there; he was always doing things like that.
When he got to where he was taking me, he pointed. Down a crevasse, into the cliff wall itself.

"You're serious?" I just kinda looked at him, grinned, and followed him.
Down. It got cool in the rocks. "It's pretty easy," he said, putting his feet on opposite walls and shimmying down.

"Oh shut up." I pushed him a little, and he laughed, running further ahead.
I have no idea how long we were in that wall for but eventually I saw full blown sunlight again. From there, it was like hiking down a hill, or small mountain like I'd done a million times in the Bear Paw Mountains.

"Smells weird down here." I commented. Not anything horrible that would make you hold your breath. Just something that would make Alton say 'dingy'.

We walked toward the water but not too close- all the ground around it at least two feet in was nothing but mud. Thick deep mud that Alton tested with a stick. The grass was tall everywhere, no one had been hanging around here, that's for sure. 

"What's that black stuff?" I asked. "OH gosh, you gotta come see this!" He bounded over the grass to another area of the water where I had seen the blackness. "You watching?" He asked. "Don't touch it!" I said, but as I really looked at the blackness I realized it was moving. He crouched down low, "Hold my arm," I did, and with the other one, he leaned into the blackness and waved his hand over it. At once, the blackness moved, migrated and went insane.
"Flies?!" I was floored! I had never seen so many flies in my life!! There were so many that you really did have to get close to even see that the blackness wasn't one big mass at all. He swooped his hand a few more times over them, in them around them.
"That's crazy..." I said. Just watching them all go. He jumped out of crouch position, tagged me, and ran off a bit. "So what do you think?"

"Dude, this is awesome. How did you even find out about a place like this?"
"Well, I ..." As he was explaining, I felt something on the back of my arm and I was distracted.

Ladies with long hair- you know how when you shed, that one friggin piece places itself on the back of your arm and is so damn annoying that you want to just rip it off and stomp on it and curse your hair for being long in the first place?

This was not one of those hairs.  I grabbed at the place on the back of my arm thinking it was and -
"OW!" I screamed. I took my hand back quickly, holding a fat ass fucking bee in my hand. I threw it insantly.
"You're kidding me!!" I said.
"What what?" Alton, having no idea what just happened. "I thought it was my hair so I grabbed it. It was a bee dude! Look at my finger!"

See kids. This is why I now have Benadryl on my person at all times. Because you really never know when you're gonna get shanked by something you're allergic to.

"Holy cow, your skin really does that? That quick?" Alton asked, inspecting my finger.
I looked at it, I could see clearly where he stung me, still seeing the stinger planted nicely in my ring finger of my right hand. All around the spot, my finger was already swelling and getting redder by the minute. "I'm allergic, Alton." I said.
"Do you have medicine with you?"
"No."
"Do I need to rush you to the hospital?" He asked frantically. "What do you need?"
"No! I just got here! I've been waiting almost a year to see this place! Do you have any Benadryl in your car?" He shook his head. You could see by the look on his face he felt aweful.
"Well come out, we at least have to get you out of here where there are bees."
I agreed, and followed him again. Up the hill, into the cliff. This time around, though, it felt a million times harder. Not like a "going up is always harder than down" kind of hard, like a, "my body is fatuigued and is going to hate me for this" hard. We got to the top and I was still excited with a child-like wonder of the place. I looked at my finer periodically. Not just the spot on my finger, but the whole finger itself was times a a half what it should have been. It had swollen horribly.

"I can't bend my finger," I told him.
"Keep trying. I dunno." He looked concerned. "Maybe I can take you to the near by town? The gas station should have something."
"No," I insisted.

Stubborn.

I was still climbing around on the rocks, taking pictures of him. He stole the camera and took some of me. We took one together. It was still a fun time, but I could tell  the bee had made my body something angry.

"I'm tired." I said, sitting on a boulder on the edge."I'm just going to lie down for a while."

I wake up, and the sun is already on the opposite side of the sky. Alton is laying next to me, I go to move but feel a numbing pain in my hand. My finger. I remember what happened, and inspect my hand again. To my horror, the irritation had spread from my finger, down into my palm, and was starting to effect the beding of my pinky and middle finger.

"Alton, I have to get back..." I said quietly, shaking him.
His eyes opened immediately,"You're finally awake! Geeze, you just like, passed out. Ready to go?" He asked, getting up off the rock. "How long has it been?" I asked.
"You were out for a really long time. Couple hours? More?" He looked at his watch.
"I still have to get to Belle's house too. Before the movie." I said, remembering my plans with Belle, living twenty minutes out, and the movie Alton and I were to go to with our group of friends.
"You gonna be able to make it?" He asked, poking at my finger. "Haha, that's a fat finger."
I pushed him, "Oh whatever, let's get to the car."
We both laughed about my 'fat finger' on the way back.  I recall falling asleep in the car as well and he woke me when I got to my mum's house. 
I ran in and went straight to the bathroom. "What's going on?" She asked as I flew out of the living room.
Alton walked in the door, "She got stung by a bee." he said.
"Oh, well as long as she takes Benadryl she'll be fine."
"She got stung hours ago. Before noon." He admitted.
"Alton!" I said, popping my head out of the bathroom, bottle in hand
"Ginger!" My mum yelled. "Alton! Why didn't you take her home sooner!"
"Look at her!" he said on the defense.
"Mum it was me, I begged him not to take me home. You'd have to see this place! I just got there!"
I downed the Benadryl a few gulps. "See? Better. But I have to get to Belle's now."
"That's not the best idea. You should wait to see her tomorrow. She lives 30 minutes out."
"I know, but I haven't seen her all summer, and her mom is there too. Haven't seen her since I graduated. I'll see you after our movie tonight." As I was getting my car keys, Alton explained to my mum our plans.
"Please call me when you get there," She asked.
"Sure, sure." And we were both out the door.
"See you at the movie tonight!" I hollered after him as he got in his car.

So I admit, not the smartest thing to drive when you're having an allergic reaction and the medicine is also making you tired.  But I got to Belle's, looking at her new dress."It's versatile, there's like a million ways you can put it on. I'm finding out how to do it." She showed me her dress, her mum was talking to me as I was on the couch. I told them both about the sting and that I was a little tired.

"You can take a nap here if you want," her mom offered, "I'll wake you up when we eat."
"No that's okay. I'll be alright. I'll get plenty of sleep when I'm dead," I winked at her.
"You kids these days. You never sleep. Belle hasn't either! Work yourselves to death." She walked into the kitchen. Belle sits on the couch next to me, puts her feet in my lap. We catch up on school and summer stuff. Start watching the tv when her mom turns it on.

"Girls, its time to eat." Her mom shakes us a little.
"What time is it?" I asked. Not knowing we both fell asleep on the couch.
"Oh, about 8:30. I know it's a late dinner, but I didn't know when you two would wake up."
"Oh no! I have a show to get to by 9:10 tonight!" I said, and jumped off the couch.
"Thanks for having me, but I gotta get outta here! Sorry momma." I hugged her goodbye.
"Want to go to Fresno this friday?" I asked Belle. It's the lake between her house and mine.
"Sure" She yawned awake.
"Okay, see you then!" And I ran out.

Adrenalin was going. I wasn't even tired on the ride home. I hate being late to things. I roll up in my '89 Ford Tempo like it's nobody's business and the crew is waiting outside.
"Ginger!" someone said.
Alton ran up to me. "Show them your fat finger!" He demanded as everyone crowded around. You would swear we were ten years old all over again.

I pushed him, he pushed back , I showed off my fat finger, we went into the movies, and called it a day.

Remember churr'ins, bring your Benadryl.

The Longest 5 Minute Drive

Just a normal night in college for Queer and I. He can't sleep. I can't sleep. What else is there to do in the middle of a cold night in the winter? Drive to Blair's of course, the 24/7 grocery store in our little college town of Wyoming.

"Feel like going to Blair's?" He asked.

I stared at my phone for a moment. 1:13am.

"Yeah, but we have to be quick. I have math in the morning."  No one makes me miss my math class. No one.

"Yeah, I just want to get a quick something to eat."

We get in Bjorn- the name of his Toyota Turcel- and make our way on this five minute adventure. When riding past the parking lof of Blair's, Queer says," I'm not tired. Feel like driving to Lovell with me?" About a good forty-five minute drive.

I look at the clock in his car. "Fuck it. I'm not tired either."
I remember it was a crisp night. I always loved nights like that- not the cold, but the feeling of his super hot heater on my legs, the loudness of his little car as we trucked along on the highway, and the volume of his stereo. Not the best, but I associate that stereo with a lot of good memories. (This being one of them.) Nothing was said between us for that first forty-five minutes. Nothing usually ever is. Just enjoying the presence of each other is always enough.

We pull up to the gas station. "I'm not really hungry anymore. I've never been to the mountains past here," he says,"feel like exploring?"

I look at the time again. I look to him, smile. He turns around and heads in the direction of the mountains. I can always tell when he has something to say. He'll light up a cigarette, roll down the window a crack, and reach to turn down the music.
"You know they've seen UFOs out here. A large number of sightings."
"I believe it. With it being so open and all. No one would want to be in Wyoming except damn aliens."
We chuckled softly,"Yeah," he agreed, "Remember that one time?" And he didn't have to finish his sentence. I remember. I'll always remember.

The further we went up the mountains, the more snow on the ground, naturally. The road went back and forth, back and forth climbing the mountain. We reached the first stone wall looking over the towns below and he pulled off to the side. "I have to pee."

"Me too" I admitted.
We look at each other for a second.
"Can we pee off the side of the mountain?" He asked with a big smile.
"Can we please?!" I asked excitedly.

We hopped out of the car. "Look," I said, and pointed to a few Semi trucks coming up the mountain.
"Guess we better hurry before they come up."
He ran to a rock, stood on top of it.
I ran to a rock with a bush shield. Stood on top of it.

"MY TERRITORY!" He screamed.
I pissed myself laughing.

I mean not myself. But it was easier to pee. Ehh? EHHH? SEE WHAT I DID THERE?!?!
Whatever. On with it.

By the time I was finishing up air-drying, the semi was coming up the way.
We laughed and ran back to the car, marveling at all the little light clusters.
"I think that's Lovell!"
"That's Powell for sure."
Waited for a truck to drive by, then we were off again. Up further into the mountains.

After a rush like that, we usually always put on the Sounds or Monarchy or some other band that gets us pumped for dashboard dancing and impromptu kareoke.

Along the way we stopped at some rest stops, trying to marvel at some of the waterfalls in the moonlight. Finally, we reached a plateau where there was no more going up, but occasionally down. All of a sudden we saw the sign: SHERIDAN 70 MILES.

I looked at him. He looked at me and smiled. I looked at the clock.
"Feel like going to Sheridan?" He asked.
"Eh, we've come this far, let's go."

On we drove. I didn't take caffeine pills like the popper in the driver's seat, so I dozed in and out, feeling the loud hum of the car, listening to Eric Hassle.
We watched the sun rise, smelled the crisp air time and time again as he rolled down his window for a cigarette. Saw the glistening of the dewy grasses patched with globs of untouched snow.

Then we saw it, winding down the side of the mountain, the widely spread town of Sheridan. We explored all over that town. Looking at the residential areas, admiring the old-style houses, each with their own character and clearly well kept by all that inhabited them. We even came to a road that had wild turkeys blocking it.
"Your turket call!! DO YOUR TURKEY CALL!!" Queer told me excitedly.

You see. On a roadtrip with my family to Mississippi years back, my older brother's gal at the time taught me this wonderfully accurate sound. It has been most helpful to me.

I let out my gobble at the turkeys. One of the guys lifted his ass feathers.
"Go get him! MATE WITH HIM!" Queer screamed at me.
I just stared for a moment and with us both laughing hysterically, I called to the turkeys again. We drove slowly toward them, but they ran like a bunch of freaks away from the car and into an alley way we couldn't get to.

"Want to look up haunted places? Like we did on out Spring Break trip?" He was referring to the epic 2 week road trip we had taken that previous year.

He whipped out his phone, still having the website saved from said trip. The website telling us of all the hauntings in Sheridan. We drove around the town for a bit, picked up a quick McD's breakfast, and headed to what we were most curious about in the town- the graveyard. It was a big one, on top of a hill overlooking half of the city. We saw the mark of the Masons on a lot of the head stones. Cj explained to me what it meant and talked about some of the conspiracies.

After an hour or so in the graveyard and spotting deer, and some creeper off in the distant graves, we began our journey through the town to head home.

We headed for the highway and saw another sign that caught our attentions:
SOUTH DAKOTA  180 MILES.
He looked at me and smiled. I looked at him and smiled back. "We just never stop do we?" I asked.
"This is what we do." He said. We both looked forward, turned up Midnight Sun, and kept driving.

MARDI BLOG!!!!

Okay, it's the blog you've all been waiting for. Before I go on talkin about my adventures with Mardi Gras, I'll explain it to those who are so far lost from the concept...


Mardi Gras is... basically the celebration of sin? Bwahah, I mean seriously! Ash Wednesday, as most are aware, is a Catholic thing- the Wednesday that starts the 40 days of Lent- a fasting for Catholics. The Tuesday before is referred to as Fat Tuesday. That's the day where most would get all there sins out there- do their worsts before fasting and giving up certain things for the 40 days. Well, Mardi Gras in the south has been made into this big tradition of parades, cake, sexy music, and lots of other sinful sinful things.

There's more to it than that I guess, but you get the gist.

SO- There are these parades that go on for weeks or whatever. People in the city get together making floats that represent their casinos, bars, organizations, and businesses, and whatever else have you.  Let's go over the wonderful things you can get in a parade. My pardons if I forget anything (to those that even know what I'm talking about)

Beads- the most common. Necklaces that EVERYONE gets!
Specialty beads- these are bawlin. Everone wants them, few get them. From ornament-sized beads, to Jager brand beads, to beads with music notes or sea horses on them, they're keepers!
Moon pie- or King cakes, are little soft cookie cakes with marshmellow in the middle. They've gotten smaller over the years and the ones this year even had a calorie count on them, which if you ask me, defeats their purpose. That whole gluttony thing and what not...
Spear- SPEARS MAN!! BAMBOO SPEARS!! Ones you impale whales with? With the traditional Mardi Gras colours-gold, green, and purple. No. Not damn blue, or pink, or whatever the hell you damn northerners make it out to be. Usually you really gotta stand out in a crowd to get one- like stand on someone's shoulders or flash someone. Fact.
Stuffed Animals- enough said. All kinds. Gotta do special tricks for these ;)
Garter belt/panties- yes. yes they do throw panties. No idea what you gotta do to get em.
paper flowers- you gotta give kisses to get these! usually decent to shabby looking men carrying large boquetttes of them, and you'll know who has the most kisses because women that love these flowers love to wear the lipsticks to put proof on the men they earned it! (like yours truly)
Coins- They make an awesome collection of bragging rights if you can get enough of them! Coloured coins usually in the traditional colours. Sometimes made specifically for businesses.
Cups- my family never had to buy cups for the kitchen until we moved north. Fill your cabinets!
There's a million other little quirky items like bouncy balls, snake whistles, and candies that you can get, but I think I covered the major ones.

Okay, so my first outting of Mardi Gras parades, I took my neighbour and her husband. They're from West Virginia and had never been to a parade. Were they in for a treat! For starters, we went to Gulfport. It was one of the smaller parades, but it didn't disappoint! Mostly we caught beads, some masks, some stuffed animals- just some small ones, nothing we had to get crazy for- and we called it a day.

We rested up until Fat Tuesday and this time it was just me and the little lady. I was super excited, seeing as how this one was to be four blocks from our apartments. Didn't have to worry about parking or anything, just walk there.

We set out at about one because that was when it was scheduled to start. Since we weren't heading toward the beginning of the path the parade takes, I assumed we had plenty of time.  I was right- but we had soooooo much extra time! Got there about ten after one, it was raining, we were freezing, sopping wet, and tired of waiting by the time the parade got to us. It was delayed due to the weather and started when the rain died down. Got to us at about... 3:00pm? Something like that. But proved very quickly to be well worth it!

Crowds of people lined the streets- some in their Mardi colours, some in extravagant ball dresses, others in... well, much like what a sleezy hooker would wear. We went to a corner that was really bare of people. We knew why- it didn't have the shelter from the rain of any business roof. Like I cared about the rain. I knew if I wanted something awesome from the parade, it was best to be alone on the sidewalk anyway. To our left, a family from New York. Our right, some rather large dude in a bikini made for someone who would wear an extra small.
Epic.

When we heard the high school marching band coming around, I whipped out my secret weapon- my sign. On it, in bright bold letters for every word it read:

                   FROM MONTANA! WILL NOT LEAVE WITHOUT A SPEAR!!

Because that was my goal for this year. For years I thought about that damn spear. Such pride with such a piece of .... whatever. I wanted one damnit. I was determined.

My neighbour was a little standoff-ish to the thought of the parades. She's kinda a shy gal, and screaming isn't really her forte. Little did we know, Mardi Gras would soon change this for her...

I'll sum it up, in no chronological order, we got some awesome shit. People loved the sign and if they didn't have a spear to throw at me, they made up for it with something equally as awesome.


You might also want to keep in mind, through this whole process, I did not once flash anyone. Not at all. Which I might say is a miracle.

Not only did I get a spear... I got seven. SEVEN. Three or four stuffed animals, a handful of moonpies, coins for days, five cups, bouncy balls, and beads for days! Beads up the ass! We were the only two on the street that had so man beads we filled our bag, our necks, and people kept throwing them at us! CHUCKING THEM! People on the floats were cheering for us because we were accumulating such a pile! I kissed a few men for roses, but I'd done that even as a child. It was my neighbour who got her flower- cherry popped at this parade.

But I wasn't even the crazy one! I was just holding a sign and screaming louder than ... well, those of you that know me know how loud I get. But her- SHE- was all kinds of fired up! I was impressed!! This little five nothing brunette was racking up all the points! She even got a necklace of the big beads- the BIG ones! You know those traditional round ornaments that go on Christmas trees? The big round shiny ones? Imagine that in Mardi colours as a necklace. YES. She got THOSE big ones!

Not only that, but to get another rose, she hopped over the barricade that keeps in the people to go to a float and kiss a guy. But not just any kiss- no. When that hunk's lips met hers, the crowd cheered as he clung on for some tongue action! 

Then another spear was offered to me- over the barricade I ran! We were getting all kinds of crazy and all anyone that saw could do was smile and applaud.

On one float I actually knew someone- or recognized him anyway. Some hottie that I met while he was staying at my workplace. I was the clean-up crew and he offered to help. Offered me a beer and some small talk. I couldn't take the drink offer, because I was a good worker, but when he was passing by on that float I yelled "You owe me!!" And he threw me some specialty beads with a wink and blew a kiss.

The best part about the whole experience? I threw a big enough hissy fit and screamed, danced, jumped up and down so crazy- I got someone to throw a giraffe at me. Yes. My very own Mardi Gras giraffe. Tell me a story better than that one? Tell me a story more perfect! You can't.

Some other things we got were some feather boas, mug holders, frisbies- lots of little wins. Walking home with all that, I thought I would die! ten pounds of beads on your shoulders plus maybe another thirty or fourty in a giant bag with seven spears?! We had a good Fat tuesday. Nej. We had a fantastic Fat Tuesday.

We dispursed, I passed out, five hours later went to work. So much win. So exhausting.

To end this segment I will say- if only ONCE in your life, it is totally worth going to Mardi Gras. Next year I plan on going to New Orleans, the king town of flashers and kissers. It fell through this year because I didn't know the area to well and my guild ended up not going. Meet y'all next year :)