We live in a tourist area as I’ve mentioned a bazillion times before…and so our town does weird-ass things to attract tourists. Year-round.
There. That should suffice as an explanation, when you wonder why I went to a Mardi Gras parade last night. Because yes. I know. It’s August. And I’m not still drunk.
And actually…the night was even weirder than that…yes.
Weirder than a Mardi Gras parade in August.
It started out innocently enough; Hubs and I went to the parade and we planned to meet up with some friends, have a couple of drinks and then head home for dinner. We both had to work today.
Well..Things don’t always go as planned for me. Shocker.
Hubs ended up being the only guy there, so he went home and left me with my girlfriends; we all live in the same area so I had arranged to ride home with them.
The night started to change shape from there…somehow I ended up IN the parade, paying fifty-dollars for a glass of iced tea, coming home at nine-thirty and passing out face-first on my pillow, make-up and everything in tact. I woke up at five-thirty this morning with a swollen nose, cotton mouth, a wonky stomach and a raging headache.
As I sat in a lawn chair in my driveway this morning, wearing my RayBans and pajamas, slowly drinking water and eating pretzels (don’t judge me, the house was too cold)…I unpacked my
clown bag purse…and tried to piece together last night’s events.
I found my underwear, a wad of receipts and my wedding ring under a bunch of gay-ass coozies. In. My. Purse.
Thankfully I didn’t find a baby.
This is what I concluded:
The underwear – They’ve been in my purse for a while. Ever since I went shopping for shorts while wearing yoga pants (commando-style). Either that or they are the ones I yanked off in the bathroom a couple of weeks ago when Hubs and I were at a beach bar and I was hot, sweaty and twisty.
The wedding band – I hardly ever wear it since I lost 100lbs. I need to get it sized. It falls off when my hands get wet. When I found out I’d be IN the parade, I put it away because I didn’t want to lose it when I was flinging/throwing beads off the float. That was probably my only good decision of last night.
The gay-ass coozies – I have a feeling my klepto-friend Susan-Six-Fingers had a role in this. Oh. You want to know why they are gay-assed?
The receipt – Turns out I bought my friend Tanya’s drinks and dinner. Apparently I’m quite a wealthy drunk.
The parade – I don’t even want to talk about it.