It's that time again. Time for beads, boobs, and bums. Drunks, dancing, and MORE drunks! Actually, our Mardi Gras is somewhat more tame, what with the not actually going in to New Orleans and staying instead in Lafayette, with the heated horseshoe tournaments, the crawfish boil, and the hours and hours of total CHILL.
This year should be the best turnout yet, with attendees from Arkansas to California to Tennessee all traveling to one house in beautiful, coon-ass, southern Louisiana in order to compete for the famed Best of Mardi Gras awards.
Last year, I'm proud to say, I took home the prestigious Doug Morris Award, which, in LESSER, PLAINER, and MORE BORING terms has been explained to me as the Biggest Slut Award. The reason I won it is another story in and of itself, and I will not speak of it now. Perhaps later. Perhaps never. At any rate, I am told that it is even tougher to DEFEND an award than to win it in the first place, so I suppose I have my work cut out for me. Cody was pronounced the King of Mardi Gras 2004, and when I complained about not being crowned Queen (if you knew the story you would think I VERY MUCH deserved it), I was told that the King and Queen awards are comparable to winning the Offensive MVP and the Defensive MVP, but the Doug Morris Award is like winning the LEAGUE MVP. Yes, that's right, the WHOLE FREAKING LEAGUE, that was me.
Perhaps they are placating me, but nonetheless, I intend to come home with an award of some type. And rest assured that it will be better than anyone else's, although one of my brothers is coming in from L.A. and will be a worthy challenger. Stay tuned; if I can get to a computer there, I will update, and otherwise you will all just have to wait until Monday. MONDAY! CAN YOU HANDLE IT?
Comments