Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Green Beer and Flea Bombs

This past weekend was pretty fun considering everything running against it. Any weekend in New Orleans is tough when you're sober, so you can imagine how I felt bracing myself for a holiday celebrated by getting completely inebriated starting as early in the morning as possible. Throw in flea bombing the apartment and you've got yourself a party! (I did get to eat corned beef and cabbage, so please, don't feel too bad for me)

Saturday morning was the uptown St. Patrick's Day parade in the Irish Channel. Before the parade, St. Mary's church has a special service attended by all the tuxedoed and kilted men that march in the parade. It is quite a sight to see. Apparently it is one of the biggest celebrations for the holiday in the world. I recommend trying to catch the service next year.

The parade itself was disappointing. I love parades, LOVE them. I love getting all crazy and yelling for things, catching useless crap. And although I've been at many a crowded parade, I never had a rude interaction as such:

Me (to a 10-year-old girl): "Hi, can I squeeze in here next to you?" *big smile*

Girl: *looks at mother next to her*

Mother (old hag) to daughter: "Ignore her" *elbow brace*

What?!!!! Jerk. Let me give you a little background to the St. Patty's day parade in New Orleans. Drunken men parade down the street with flowers and give them to ladies for kisses. The streets are lined with middle aged women drunkenly groping for plastic flowers while sticking their tongues down some stale beer throat. And that's just at the beginning of the parade route.

I saw a girl hurdle over the police barricade to have whiskey poured down her throat from a guy leaning off a float and then french kiss the dude next to him. I also caught a head of cabbage.

My cousin's live where the parade ends. It's pretty entertaining to watch as everyone disassembles and staggers away. We sat in front of the house in the gorgeous weather . My Rosie angel played with chalk. She covered a stick in chalk. She's so hip.

Next door to the house is a community garden. They have chickens! They gave us their eggs as a present for new baby Pearl. I love finding little bigs of gardens and farm life hidden away in the city.

That evening I went to Mod Dance Party at Saturn Bar. Matty plays some great tunes and it's a nice option for someone who likes to go out to dance to not sucky music.

Oh, how did my cat/flea situation turn out? Well. I took the cats on the bus to the animal shelter, flea dipped them and applied ANOTHER round of advantage. Went home and flea bombed my house and evacuated for 69 hours. Came back after said amount of time and totally cleaned the place from top to bottom. Also washed every single item of clothing (and if you know me, then god damn yeah that's a lot of clothing). Got back on the bus to pick up the cats. Realized I got on the wrong bus and walked 5 blocks and paid 1.25 to get brought back to my apartment. Got a ride to the shelter from my awesome neighbors (yeah, pussy posse!), got the cats, and brought them home. Gave them cuddles and OMG WHAT THE HELL WHY ARE THERE FLEAS!!!!

So needless to say, I'm done. I inherited OCD with cleaning from my mother, so usually when I get off work, before I can do any sort of productive or creative project, I have to clean. I used to do this in college as well, as a procrastination technique. No, I cant write this paper yet! I must re organize my closet first!

But after this whole ordeal...F it. My clothes are staying on the floor. Papers- everywhere. Dishes-unwashed (well maybe). Point is, I'm tired of constantly cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. It's not like it's filthy. It's just a bit of a mess. And I'm gonna see what comes out of that mess. Hopefully something creative (and not disgusting). Cheers to messes!

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