Mardi Gras afternoon, the Perfessor and I, in our matching stripey PJs:
are crashed out on the couches in my living room, drinking beer, listening to a Treme CD and discussing which is harder to give up for Lent, caffeine or starring in gay porn. My feet are bloody stumps, my belly is full, I'm having my fifth sugar crash of the day, and I say to him, "Man, this was maybe the best Mardi Gras ever". And he looks at me and thinks and says, "Yeah, it definitely ranks."
I had a 100% Uptown Carnival this year. I don't think I ever made it past Gen. Taylor. All week the routine was pick the kids up from school, eat a quick dinner, and walk down to the parades. Endymion was suckier than I remember, just because this was my first Endymion in almost 15 years and thus my first relatively non-mobile one. Y'all are right, the Endymion crowds are obnoxious. Bacchus was nicer, camped out at Napoleon & Prytania. Must remember: neutral ground sucks. Sidewalk side rules.
And it was a Mardi Gras of firsts. My first Krewe du Vieux. My first Muses. My first Chaos, first d'Etat, first Barkus. Really, my first Mardi Gras as both an adult and a local. A Mardi Gras full of family:
and lots and lots of food. Of which there are no pictures, because it is all in my belly.
And after it was all done and the crowds went home, I sat on my front porch and put my feet up and gazed out at the lovely mess:
until the OPP came and took it all away, while I contemplated 40 days of not seeing Ashley do any gay porn.
Easter promises to be an interesting time.