Its a Mardi Gras recap, reacap, recap (part1)

The title makes sense if you sing it to the tune of the refrain of "Mardi Gras Mambo"

If you're not from around here, then just take my word for it. If you are from around here, then you've heard the stupid song on the radio enough times to have it stuck in your head.

Anyway, I wanted this one out by Tuesday, but then got caught up in the celebrations, and on Wednesday, managed to slam my car into some poor old lady, killing her, her husband, her child that just won his first baseball game, and a pure, innocent puppy. Poor dog never had a chance.

Not really. Just a minor fender-bender. The only thing that's dead is my savings. However, if you're ever in need of attention, just post somewhere on the web that you're in a car accident, even in a joking manner in relation to something totally different, and you will get much concern and e-hugs.

Anyway, back to my past couple of days.

Saturday: I went to Endymion and learned several important things: The cure for abject public drunkenness is to simply have someone cluster-carpet bomb your poor, obliterated mind with F-bombs, and that parades are not as fun when you fly solo. So, it was with a somewhat heavy heart I walked back down Royal Street to get to my car.

Then (because sound seems to factor a lot in my life), I was listening to several street performers play, and had an Epiphany.

I could totally do that.

So, I rushed back to my dorm, and immediately fell comatose as I tried to read the legal document on street permits. I swear they put chloroform on those, never mind I was reading a digital copy.

When I woke up several hours later, I found out that permits where cheap, useful and seemed fairly easy to obtain. And that Shakespeare must still be alive and writing somewhere, no one else in the history of writing has stuck that many whoms and thous together.

Yes, I just took a low blow at Shakespeare. No, I won't apologize.

Sunday: I saw Bacchus the way its meant to be seen, with friends and family. It was awesome. Plus, Drew Brees (with less booze) was riding and we totally knew someone else on his float. So, it while everyone else was like "DREW, OH MY GOD, DREW, THROW US SOMETHING SO WE CAN ENSHRINE IT!"
We where like: "CHUCK! CHUCK! WE LIVE TWO DOORS DOWN AND I DON'T QUITE REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, JUST THROW STUFF TO US!"

Yes, Chuck is my go to name when I need a fake one. Even the girls. No real people are named Chuck.

Monday and Tuesday (with a bit of Wedensday double recap) sometime this week, so stay tuned.

When in doubt, have a parade

So, last Tuesday, I went to my first parade of the season.

Yes, we have a season of parades: Its called Mardi Gras. The parades are usually accompanied with heavy partying, drinking, and/or other forms of debauchery

First things first, these aren't your boring old 'normal' parades. Oh no. Here, we have people on the floats that throw stuff to the crowd, the bands not only play, but also dance. Its more akin to a block party on wheels than a parade.

Its pretty sweet.

Now, I don't know if you heard or not, but the Saints won the super bowl. I even got up off my lazy butt and blogged about it. So, the first real "big" parade of the seasons was....

You guessed it. A Saints parade. And, lemme tell you, they know how to make a parade work.

I stood next to a rather cool old woman, and a trio of die-hard Saints fan girls. Actually, it might be better to say duo, because the third one fainted upon seeing Drew Brees.

I must say, Brees has some stage presence. With a very limited amount of throw-crap, he was pumping up the crowd, running all up and down along his float, dancing along with the music...

The man was drunk out of his mind.

But, that could be said for almost the entire team, as they where dancing on the floats, jumping off to run by and high-five the crowd, dancing with the speakers, starting crowd chants...

Jeremy Shockey was dumping beads on some woman that was flashing him with, I hate to say this, not all that much.

Garret Hartley was looking so start struck with all the cheering, I thought he might faint.

They didn't throw much, and the parade wasn't all that long, but by the time Sean Payton (the head coach) rolled around on his mega-float with the Lombardi trophy, you felt like you had been to one of those big parades.

Payton was the only one not drunk. Probably due to fear of dropping the stupid trophy. But all he had to do was hold up the Lombardi trophy and the crowd went nuts. I had a sinking feeling that if Payton wanted, he could have pointed the trophy in any direction and we'd have followed, performing some kind of jihad-esque fanatical march.

Which probably means that we'd follow the trophy, descend on where it was pointed, run whatever poor infidel place Payton picked out of booze and stumble back to New Orleans.

I dunno whats worse, the fact that I really thought of that or the fact that I'd be right there with 'em the whole way.

When the Saints Come Marching In

I'm in absolute shock.

Infact, its hard for me to even write this.

I'm not a die hard Saints fan. I made fun of them back when they where 3-13. I was a bandwagon jumper back in '05 when they made the playoffs. I don't own a jersey.

Heck, I didn't own any Saints gear 'till about 2 weeks ago.

And yet, here I am, with a Saints hat, with a stupid big smile on my face.

This time, I was the one honking second line out on my car horn. May it be an insperation to all you nerds out there to get out and enjoy this once in a lifetime oppertunity.

You only win your first Super Bowl once, you know.

And it was a game. A big shout out to the crowd at Viola, you guys rocked.

And the guys I was with, you people are like number one on my list to watch more football games with.

Plus, I got free drinks, a hat, and a t-shirt out of it.

But, man, was it a party.

Last time I was called the nerdiest who dat. This time, I was dancing on a table. With a big black guy. I think... I think I may have actually gotten a little cooler after that one. Maybe.

I huged several random strangers. one old lady, one big musicular guy, two girls that a cooler man might try to pick up and the aformentioned black guy.

And as I stumbled out into the street, no one was more suprised than I to feel a streak of wetness on my cheek.

A single tear. A tear for victory.

Go Saints. Bless you boys.