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 :)

The Preference of Donuts to Mayonnaise

This last weekend was the last weekend of one of my airmen. See, I live a block away from the airforce base, and airmen get filtered through my house often, and monthly, it would seem. It was a regular weekend- Party on a friday night, recovery and sleep on Saturday, movies that night or more party, and leave to go back to base on Sunday afternoon for curfew.

This weekend, however, made a turn we didn't see coming. Truth be told, we have no idea how it came. Okay maybe we do, but saying we didn't just makes it all mysterious and shit. Whatever. Read.

So it was a Saturday. We'd been watching the movies I rented from Blockbuster that evening because we didn't get a chance to watch them the previous night.  Luckily, we got them all watched before ten, so I thought I might go return them. The suggestion of even moving from the couch was enough to get the other three up- Miss, Skit, and Alaska.

So we set off, Skit driving, Miss in the passenget seat, Alaska and I in the back. Yes. Yes the seating arrangement is important. You will see why.

We dropped off the movies at Blockbuster, and seeing the Whataburger across the street, the men were hungry and went through the drivethru. I don't eat all that lovely meat business so some delicious fries and onion rings were all I wanted.

Now, before I go into this next part, I need all readers to understand- I can't eat fries without fry sauce. What is fry sauce you ask? Well, for my Northerners there's no explanation needed. For all the other non-freakish people of the world, it is a delicious combination of Mayo and Ketchup. I know. I'm not much of a Mayo person myself, but damn. It's so... mmm.

When we get to the drive through the gal asks us if we need any Ketchup or anything for our food.

Back up. I am hyper as hell. I work a grave shift. I haven't slept all day. At this point, I work in a couple hours. I get super bubbly and crazy and giggly when I'm sleep deprived. It's amazing and I do it often. Deal with it.

*FAST FORWARD*
So at the drivethru, I'm already giggling my ass off about.. I dunno, some story I was telling where my mum throws a phonebook at my brother. Hell if I know. I don't even think I got to the end of the story before I was crying of hysteria.

When the gal is passing food through the window, Skit tells her, "It's the meds she's on..." The gal cracks up and that's when she asks if we need condiments. In a very deep man-voice, and very loud, I bellow, "MAYYYOOOONNNNAAIIIIIISEE" The car load loses it and we get some wide-eyed looks from the people inside.

We're driving back to my place, and have to cross a freeway/bridge to get there. There's a stop light we have to wait at before crossing. We're in the right lane, and in the left and a car forward there is a po po. Me and Alaska are still going off about the MAYONNAISE incident, we're loud, the windows are down, the music is bumping. Having just a good time, right? Can't get pulled over for that shit, right?

Wrong. So wrong. We're all wrong. You're wrong.

The light turns green, and not even two minutes later, the jacksquat is behind us, flashing his cherries and berries.

You've got to be kidding me.

"Thanks, Ging" is all Skit has to say. Just so you caught that in the beginning- I'm not even the one driving!! I'm not even in the passenger seat!! Me and Alaska are in the fucking back, but we totally know why we're being pulled over.

Of course, Skit gets asked to step out of the vehicle, seeing as how we're on the freeway and the jacksquat probably doesn't want to get his ass ran off. From the car we hear muffled parts of the conversation. It was totally about the crazy bitch in the back seat yelling, and apparently that's a problem. As per routine, Skits gets asked if he is drunk, gets brethalized, no big deal.

He comes to my door. I open it and step out.

Before you read this, know that I already have a problem with this guy - I've little to no respect for police in the first place, but I can already tell, if I wasn't with a bunch of airmen, I would run my mouth.

I'm praying to Jesus at this point, Lord please don't let me pop off, these airmen need their future...

He takes me off to the side,"What was all that hootin and hollerin I heard from you at the stop light?"
I immediately start smiling- no remorse from this gal, "Mayonnaise."
He looks at me like I'm blitzed out of my mind.
"What? we got some Whataburger in the car with some Mayonnaise, I find that exciting."
"Ma'am, have to been drinking tonight?" I see the cocky scowl on his face.
"Yes sir I have been."

Back up. You must know, it's 10:30, 10:45 at night by this time. I have no idea how long alcohol stays in your system, but the last time I had a drink that day was at 5:00 or 7:00. I said yes because I'm old enough to drink and if he breathalized me, no big deal. Not driving. I'm of age. 

So I just said yes for those purposes. I had a damn Vodka and sprite. A half of one. No way I'm drunk five friggin hours later.

"How much you think you had tonight? Three? Four?" He asks.
"Not even. Like a half."
"Excuse me?"
"Of sprite and Vodka. You should try it sometime. Delicious."
"Date of birth?"
I tell him.
"Got an ID on you?"
"No."
"Well why not?"
"Because I'm not driving?" I look at him like he's a friggin moron. Because he is. We just wanted to return some movies. Get some food. Why the hell would I bring my ID with me for that? It's a hop, skip, and a jump away for titty's sake.
"So how am I supposed to know if you're of age or not?"
Oh lord, girl please hold your tongue...
"Look, you can put my ass in the back of that cop car and haul me to my apartment and I will gladly show you my ID." I just stare him down for a minute. He stares back.
"Where you work?"
"IP." I point to the giant ass building behind him.
"Where you live?"
I rattle off the street, he confirms the apartments and I tell him we're headed there.

He's asking me these personal questions because he asked Skit why I was being all cray-cray and where we were headed. His response to the po po was that I was majorly sleep deprived and hadn't slept that day and had work that evening.

Good man.

He walks away from me- no brethalyzer- and goes to Miss's door; passenger. Takes her aside. Not before being a total creeper and reaching for her knife at her side without even telling her what he was doing.

Skit and I were both about to jump this man. We protect our women.

I watch him question her.
"Ma'am, have you had anything to drink tonight."
"No." she says.
"You sure?"
She squints an eye as if to think, "Yes?" She responds.

Who the fuck asks that? "You sure you haven't been drinking?" Pretty sure you'd know or not. I gave the guy a funny look too.

Blah blah blah, he goes and gets Alaska out of the car- now this part is beautiful.

You must understand Alaska is a straight edge. No alcohol for this cat. Ever. Us other three? On any given weekend, hell yeah. No big deal. I just met Alaska the day before, and even when it's offered to him a million times, he refuses. No pressure. Just doesn't. No big deal.

He asks Alaska to step out of the car. When he does this, he totally kicks his soda all over the floor board. "Sir," he says, " I have an issue with the soda. May I fix it?" He asks, po po snaps, "Make it quick," and Alaska begins shoveling the ice and soda out onto the freeway.

Poor kid is a nervous wreck and I had to chuckle a little at the site of him shoveling the soda out.

He gets to the po po, "You been drinkin tonight sir?"
"No sir." He stands at attention.
"You sure? Confident enough to take a breathalyzer test?"
"Yes sir."
"You know that if you're lying, you can go to jail for this?"
"Yes sir."
Of course, blows 00's and Skit and I exchange looks.

The most sober kid you know acts the most drunk of us all. The irony in it all was precious. I was glad he knocked over the soda. It put a damper on the mood of the po po. It made me smile.

He pretty much just had to excuse us after that. We all got back in the car, exchanging each other's stories of the things the jacksquat asked us. In agreement, that guy was a doucher. The other three caught it but I wasn't even paying attention- apparently a lieutenant of some kind.

Not that it matters a rat's to me. Seriously. In a busy city where everything is loud, vehicles have their systems ballin', and we're not even in city limits for any kind of noise ordinance, who the hell pulls over a car because the back seat passenger keeps repeating MAYONNAISE in a man voice?

Seriously dude. You've been pwnd.

A Different Kind Of Birthday Pt. III

Alright, so you've read about the ups and the awkward loner ginger downs of the week, and that was only the first two days of the arrival of the Gingerman... so I'll not drag this out any further and go ahead and sum up the week.

The next morning (mornin after I drove away after a spastic rush of emotion) everything was fine. No questions asked and the day and week only got better. I made breakfast for two that morning, gettin into that swing of things, and afterwards, I was in the kitchen, doing dishes, when Gingerman came up from behind me, set his plate on the counter, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.
"That was delicious. Thank you."
Lord have mercy on my soul, if there is such a kiss that makes you want to fall to the ground, it's one of those. Whateverthehell that was- more please!

That Thursday was pregame time. Pregame before the pregame. All day drinking. To prepare ourselves for the Friday night that would go down as an awesome birthday.

We went to Chili's, had a couple double rounds of beers and the drinkin never stopped when we got home. A steady pregame buzz. You know.

Nothing in particular to say for that Thursday, just your usual party house good times. All the airmen were back on base and tucked in their beds by ten.  Gingerman and I assumed the couch and telly for some good old fashion dvd watching, and at midnight, he leans over to whisper, "Happy birthday." NAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Fuck.

Anywho, Friday mornin, I believe I took my time getting up that mornin... it was so weird to just lay in bed. No work. No schedules. No bills to worry about. Everything was done, my Satan kitty wasn't raining on my parade that morning, and all was well. When the airmen got out at about four that afternoon as they always do, they came over and Skit asks, "Alright sweetheart, where you wanna go to dinner for your birthday?"
"Sushi." hands down. No hesitation. Done.
So we gather up the lot of us- Gingerman, Mister Mister, Skit, Miss, and I head to Samuri.
We ate entirely too much sushi, the men drank overly large beers, and we ladies dined on little fish eggs. Such a small gathering was such a delicious paradise. And we all ordered way too much food.

It was good for the morning when we all had the morning drunkies and were hungry.

So- after Samuri, it was back to my place for the lockdown. Drinking ensued, drinking games ensued, party music ensued, it was just a good time with good company. And like always, we didn't finish any of the drinking games.

We're horrible at that.

At one point in the night, we were all dancing our white people dances (save for Mister Mister of course, chocolate men got dat rhythm) and laughing and having a good time. I remember putting the dishes away after a while, and Gingerman comes into the kitchen to corner again. This time, he turns me around and I'm facing him. He's smiling at me, that little smirk I grew to quite enjoy and expect at close proximities such as this one. Next thing I know, this man has grabbed me by my ass, and before I had any time to object, he has picked me up and put me on the counter.

Ladies and queers everywhere- let me say that again.
This man.
Picked me up.
By my ass.
Placed me.
On counter.
I am not a small lady. I am a veluptuous, well-shaped, full blown woman.
You tell me how many men can do that with ease. You tell me.
Then be jealous.

Other than a surprise visit from an Asian that talked nonstop for four hours, it was a pretty regular night. Woke at crack of dawn, like after every evening of drinking, and made what we call Man's Breakfast.

First rule of Man's Breakfast, you don't talk about Man's Breakfast.

That Saturday and Sunday went about similar.

Wake up. Drank.
Pass out Drank.
Get up. Drank.
Piss it out. Drank.
Eat the Sushi. Drank.

Ah yes, then comes time for Sunday night. The airmen leave as per curfue, and again, Gingerman and I are left in the humble abode with no one else but Bacon. ... bastard cat.

Movies. Dinner. Coffee. I dunno. Just that sinking feeling of someone,whom of which you enjoy the company of, is leaving you in the morning. And you know it.

He showed me more of his New Yorker movies that evening, but eventually he did need his sleep.

That night was very sad. The morning was a little happier- a full breakfast before he left, as per usual.

Then, as all good stories come to an end, I watched him drive off.

BUT-

not before I stood there at my door looking into the sea-green eyes smiling like a tard. He wrapped his big ginger arms around me and I hugged him back and melted there. We pulled away slightly, and he leaned in for a kiss. I let him.

Where is the story at now? Well, he still lives in Florida and I still live in Mississippi, obviously. But he still calls daily and we text all the time. It's a happy ending to the segment.. but I don't believe it is an ending at all.

A Different Kind Of Birthday

It's a Tuesday night when I get the call, "Yo, which one of these places is your's?"

It's him.
"Well look for the Apple sign, take a right immediately after it and follow the sketchy pathway to the last apartment on the left. That's mine."
I'm already blushing, and it's a good thing I was making home made sweet tea because I would have been pacing and ringing my hands if not.
I go outside to my porch/walkway. I live on the second floor, and hang over the balcony, looking in the direction he is to be coming from; phone in hand. "I'm outside right now," I tell him, " I think that's you pulling up."
"I think I see you" He says, nearing.
Like an awkward freak, I go back into my apartment, as not to wait awkwardly. I dash back to my stove to get the boiling water for the tea. My face feels hot. I tone down the giggles.

You see. As much as I hate to admit it, there's this whole other side to the strong bold ginger you know. I'll call this side.... feminine.

I hear a knock at the door.

Oh how I wish you would have just walked in you bastard.

I go to open the door. There he is, standing in the dark with only the dim porch light to illuminate his being, the ginger man.
An awkward stand-and-stare commence on my part, stupidly smiling.
Then the most romantic words one could ever hear out of another's mouth when they meet in person for the first time, "I really have to pee. That was a long trip."
I lower my gaze and go back to my kitchen, face still flush. "That way, to the right," I point into my dark room.
How impolite as to not turn on lights. I froze up! Forgive me!
I'm making tea, stirring in the sugar and pouring the giant vat into my pitcher.
Stir stir stir.
Deep breath.
You're not intimidated by anyone.
This is just another male.
Just another male in your apartment.
Here to party hard for your birthday.




Let's go back - I met Gingerman through an airman -known as Skit in a previous story. They go way back, those two. One night Skit asks, " My buddy in Florida is workin a night shift and needs someone to text him to keep him awake."  Both men are from New York and just happen to meet each other in Florida. So it begun. Wasn't out of the ordinary that I would carry on conversation with a complete stranger. Why not?

We talked for seven weeks over the phone, day in and day out. I had a pretty good idea of who was coming to stay with me when my birthday finally came around.




*FAST FORWARD*
He walks into the kitchen. I take a glance. Over six foot, muscular, face still half-hidden by a hoodie. through it I see freckles, a small mouth, and eyes that do not belong on a redhead.

Think of all the redheads you know- all I've ever met are brown eyed. Then there's me, a bright blue. This jack? I dunno... something deep and turquoise. Like the colour of the sea at dusk, when the sun is covered by clouds, and instead of seeing rays of sun over the surface, all you see is the glow of blue and green waters in all of it's wholeness because for a moment you see it as much more than just water.
So weird.

"You like sweet tea?" I ask. Sweet one-liner, batman.

"Uh, yeah. That's cool. I'm hungry."

"Would you like me to cook, or shall we go somewhere?"

"Whatever you want to do."

I stare at him for a moment with a smirk. I'd love to be polite, but I hate that statement.

"Seriously." I smile at him.

He opens the fridge. Eggs. Spinach. Fish.
"What's open at this time?" He asks. It's about nine or so.. I can't recall the time. In the moment, it was completely irrelevant.
"Waffle House. Ihop."
My face is still red. I don't think I've looked him directly in the eyes since he's arrived.
"Ihop sounds good."

I forgot about the one over the bridge, and we started driving to the most out of the way Ihop in the area. "Is this place in Narnia?" He asks. "I just drove ten hours, and you're taking me another four just to eat?" He smiles at me. My smile hasn't left my face for days. Weeks even.

We get to ihop. He finally takes off his hoodie as we seat.
Ginger.
I get a good look at him in the light. His eyes are even more prominent. But holy fuck- as he takes his hoodie off, all I can think is, Never in my life have I known someone who had more freckles than I did.

We order. Begin talking, at first small talk about the trip, then our joined acquaintance circle of airmen.
To be honest, I really have no idea what was talked about. I probably rambled about nonsensicle things. Giggled incessantly. All I remember is how excited he was to get the chicken fried steak and those pancakes.
He'd been eating healthy for months and this was the first time he completely threw all rules out the window. It was his vacation, why not? That was his logic.

I just remember the way he eyed the pancakes, "Oh, come here sweethaht" he said in his New Yorker accent as he cut a chunk out of his short stack of pancakes and put it to his mouth.
That's all I really remember from that first dinner together. I still replay it in my head like it was the funniest fucking thing I'd ever heard in my life.

We get back in his car and drive away from Narnia. "Can you do me a favour? My friends will never believe me.."
He looks at me for a second, "What's that?"
"Take a picture of our arms and send it to a friend's number... you have so many freckles."
He just started laughing. "You serious?"
"Dead serious."

The reply he got back was, "Holy Cow! Fuck Yeah!"
He started laughing.

We get back to my place, "So what movie are we going to start with?" He asks as we get out of the car, the collection of movies I've never seen in my arms.
In my living room, I look through the stash," I don't think I've ever seen the second Boondock Saints," I say, tossing aside the other movies.

About 20 minutes left of it, I have to get ready to go to work, grave shift and all. (Don't worry, this is the only night I actually had to work when my guest was at my place.)

"Alright, well I'm probably going to bed. Been a long day of driving." He says.
"Yeah, cool. You gonna be fine? Help yourself to whatever. I'll see you in the morning."
He smiles at me for a second, kind of mockingly,"Yeah sweethaht, I'm gonna be sleeping."
"Oh. Right." blush blush blush- run out the door, locking it on my way out.
From that night on and for the next week I'll have a roommate.

Tune in next time to see what happens when I get home!!