Category Archives: Louisiana

The Truth Behind Mardi Gras

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So you have heard of this thing called Mardi Gras, huh? The wild parties, the drunken tourists, and the parades. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that is not Mardi Gras, that is Bourbon Street in the french quarter any night of the week year round. Ok, well sometimes this is mardi gras, but most parades throughout Louisiana are actually quite different.

This is Mardi Gras:

Real Parades start with old men, you didn't know that?

Real Parades start with old men, you didn’t know that?

It all begins with a couple of old guys walking down the streets with flags. Proudly following the cops on horses and hopefully not stepping in horse crap. If you are lucky they will blow you a kiss.

What could be better than a group of kilted musicians?

What could be better than a group of kilted musicians?

Then, the parade gets really wild. Bagpipes baby. It’s getting hot in here, so lets all wear awesome kilts.

Ghostbusters! That's who. Yes, our parades have the actually ghostbusters.

Ghostbusters! That’s who. Yes, our parades have the actually ghostbusters.

Yes, we have  a group of men that go around town pretended they are the actual ghostbusters. This is something that is really happening. How do I become friends with them?

hello float full of brides..

hello float full of brides..

What could be more southern than parading a group of women who need to be married on a float? You are too old to find a man on your own, well then we will parade you through town and see if we get any takers.

Wait for it, a second group of kilted bagpipers!

Wait for it, a second group of kilted bagpipers!

Oh yeah, it is about to get wild, a second group of bagpipers. Who knew there were so many families that bagpiped together? The family that wears skirts together stays together, right?

Even spider man comes to our parades.

Even spider man comes to our parades.

Throw me somethin’ Mister! No, not white goo that shoots out of your hand, this is a family parade. Throw me some beads and a plastic cup. God knows I need another mardi gras cup. What else would I drink my sweet tea out of? What you thought I was going to say whiskey didn’t you? Tisk Tisk, I save the whiskey for family holidays and I keep it in a flask, naturally.

The calm before the storm.

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My brain is a bit cloudy these days and it is leaving me challenged to be creative.  Well that and all I can hear in my mind is the theme song to wonder pets. “Wonder pets, wonder pets, save the day” And of course I hear it in my daughters voice as she chants it around the house. She also sings a nice little song I made up about lightning bugs and how their booties glow. Because there is nothing like a kid singing about bug booties glowing.

The dense fog of winter is settling in and has taken a hold of everything even my mind. But, how can one be expected to think when it is so damn hot in January. And for us in Louisiana so damn wet. The rain is relentless. Literally we are now under a national emergency for the entire state. When it rains for a week straight here, we are in feet and feet of water and it won’t go away. This is why I think there must be tons of people murdered and dumped in the bayou. With all this gator infested water everywhere, nobody will find you. Just don’t go driving around up to no good out in cajun country. You have been warned.

Sure, I could try and come up with something to jump start my mind, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Ok that was awful. Forgive me. Maybe I will just go get my pint of Ben and Jerry’s (that I really shouldn’t have bought since they donated money against the campaign in california to label genetically  modified food) And sit on the couch and watch a documentary about the life of Buddha and enjoy the mellow calm that comes with a clouded mind.

We all know there is always a calm before the storm.

BuddhaTeachings

Do you need to spice up your life?

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One of the best things about South Louisiana is by in large the food. While I do not enjoy the spicy food, I have actually built up my tolerance from cannot handle ground black pepper to I can handle the spiciest thing you got. This is a big deal for me. Food is spicy here in ways that the rest of the country wishes it were spicy. Most people who are born and raised here are so used to the spice that when they travel they pack spices in their bags to put on the food on their vacations. But, I am now off topic because this post is supposed to be about dessert. Focus NC, focus.

This past week I have been to two of my favorite places in south LA for some amazing treats.

The first is the Frostop.

Don't you just feel yourself going back in time?
Don’t you just feel yourself going back in time?

What makes this place special, aside from the fact that it has a giant root beer float as a sign? I am glad you asked. I dislike root beer and creme soda, yet here I am downing a giant root beer float in minutes. That is hogwarts level magic folks. They make their root beer from scratch. Words cannot describe the simple yet distinct taste of the melted icecream swirling into the heavenly soda. When someone can take a food I do not enjoy and make it something I crave, that my friend is an amazing drink. Hands down best root beer float ever created.

Oh my God, look at it in all its sexy glory.

Oh my God, look at it in all its sexy glory.

The next stop on my dessert train is of course beignets. One cannot live in or visit south LA without eating good beignets on a regular basis. I have heard rumors that in other places people have these things called “donuts” and try and tell themselves that they are good. But, they are lying to themselves. Quite sad really. Going to get beignets is more than the powdered sugar floating in the air and falling softly all over your clothes. It is more than the cafe au lait that goes down so smooth you think you have entered a deal with the coffee devil. It is about the feeling that comes from each and every bite. As if it were your first bite. Every time. Even if you go every sunday and eat a whole plate yourself. Each bite is like the first time. And no donut can compete with those moves. I promise you that.

The calm before the two year old devours half the plate.

The calm before the two year old devours half the plate.

Satisfaction- oh look it is the wife's hand.

Satisfaction- oh look it is the wife’s hand.

hide your kids, hide your wife

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So many posts all over the internet about what everyone did in 2012 and what they plan to do in 2013. This is not one of those blogs.

This blog is to discuss what the hell is going on at the house down the street from me.

creepy-neighbors-creepy-neighbors-chi-mos-child-molestors-mu-demotivational-poster-1270695719[1]

Here is the scene:

The house has those reflective mirror tint in all of their windows. And to top it off they put it up wrong, so its all wrinkly. They have three of the same style cars, one from each major company. They have a honda fit, a hyundai accent, and the chevrolet sonic. In three different colors. At first they all look so similar I thought they had bought three of the same car. Here is where it gets weird. December 1st they take down the window tint in one window only and put a bunch of nutcrackers up for Christmas. I guess the christmas spirit overwhelmed them.

What are they doing in that house?

My first thought was maybe they are allergic to the sun and that is why they need reflective tint. It would also explain why I have never seen anyone come or go from the house. But why the nutcrackers? Maybe they are magical nutcrackers that protect people from the sun.

Maybe they are secret spies collecting data on my neighborhood, because really all of my neighbors are secret agents in the FBI.

They could just be drug dealers. My neighbor thinks everyone is dealing drugs in the neighborhood. Well, only the people she doesn’t like. Which is why I bake her candies all the time. Not because I deal drugs, but I don’t need her calling the cops on me too. Yep, new hispanic family moved in, so naturally she thinks they deal drugs and called the cops. Poor family didn’t see the racist neighbor coming.

They are the aliens causing all the traffic. Easily could control the traffic with satellites from their home. Or there suspicious cars.

Come on aliens is a legitimate explanation its not like I am running around saying sparkly vampires exist.

Favorite Posts From This Year #4

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This post speaks to my thoughts on the south. Even though I think we have a whole lot of crazy up in here from time to time. I still love the south.

Enjoy this post My south

I have been posed the question “Why do you live in the South?” a lot lately. As someone who is gay, married, and raising a family; I can see how people would struggle to see why I would chose the south. It is often considered to be the opposite of who I am.

I have written a handful of posts specifically about living in Louisiana here  that will paint a picture of the south through my eyes.

The quiet silence of a small town

Trying to put into words what the south means to a southerner is difficult to do, so I will start at the beginning.

Being a southerner is like being a part of a secret club that everyone knows about. You have to prove yourself to get invited in, but once you are in you are in for life. Of course unless you do something crazy. In which case, you need to openly ask Jesus for forgiveness and we will let you back in.

The south is the people. Sure you could say it is something about those long hot summers and never ending glasses of sweet tea that do something to you, but down here it is about the people. The whole town may talk about what crazy things you did last saturday night and how they cannot believe you are dating so and so, but if you are sick the whole town shows up with a hot meal. The first words children are taught is please, thank you, and sorry. Yes Ma’am and No sir apply to everyone out of respect. It is not about your age.

And then there is the food. It isn’t simply food. It is bacon cooked in brown sugar, pecans, and cayenne pepper. Food is not something you do to get the best body or help you finish the race. It is a ritual, an event, and a time to catch up with family and friends.

As the suns sets on a warm summer evening with the breeze blowing past you full of memories of times past, and you sink into your porch swing, you can feel the soul of the south wrapping its arms around you whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Listen carefully

Meanwhile in Louisiana…

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Each night I walk to my dad’s house. What can I say, I am a little attached. Mind you we do not live in the country, but apparently we now have neighbors whose chickens roam the neighborhood. I haven’t seen the pitbulls lately, so perhaps the chickens took care of them? The mean chicken police of Louisiana. Watch out they will cut a bitch.

I’m pretty sure this one is the Sheriff.

Clearly living on the edge here. I dare you to cross this street, punk.

I’m going to need to see your papers.

There is something wrong with those damn pumpkins

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It was a hot humid saturday morning. All was calm on the long drive out to the country. What would posses someone to drive to the country? Overpriced pumpkins, thats what. The day was looming over me, I should have known it would all go bad quickly.

The day started out with a screaming toddler adamant that she did not have a thing to wear in her closet. Yes, she was completely serious, and yes she tries on at least three to four outfits each morning, runs to my room, looks in the mirror to check it out and comes back to say that she cannot wear this dress, she needs another one. An hour later, we are at target attempting to find a suitable dress for her. Don’t judge me. So, we found a coral satin dress on clearance put in on in the aisle, because she undressed right there, and headed to the patch to look for pumpkins in the 90 degree heat.

We park the car right on top of a …. fire ant hill! As I am unbuckling said child from the car ten ants bite me all at once, because they are bitches like that. I yell out “O Shit,” as I try and scrape them off me. So of course my daughter is walking up to the patch going oh shit, oh shit. Luckily I ignored it, so she stopped.

First stop, face painting! Nope. We walk up and she covers her face screaming. Fail.

Second stop, Pumpkins! Nope. She refuses to touch them because, ready for it, they have dirt on them. Yes indeed folks. We can’t buy a pumpkin because it has dirt on it. You cannot teach this level of girlie.

Third stop, rides. Yes. Finally she will play on the playground and run around. Success. I am so glad we drove all the way out here for you to play on the playground little one. At least I bought a jar of homemade strawberry  jam.

Finally, Titi arrives ( this is her aunt aka my sister ) She scoops her up and away they go to pet the animals. Even gets her to hold a baby chicken!

Yet another years pumpkin patch written down in the books. Maybe next year we will travel and visit friends in the fall so we can go to an apple orchard instead.

mommy look at the nasty pumpkins

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood

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I think the time has come to fill you in on the neighborhood gossip.

 

Where to start? Where to start?

There is the family across the street. Last I spoke to you about them, she was pregnant and outside smoking each night a 4am. Fast forward. Right after the baby is born she confesses to an affair. All hell breaks lose over there. Cops, yelling, black eyes, and loud conversations on cell phones in the driveway about how you were supposed to tell your spouse too. But, would that break them up? Hell no. They are going strong. See kids marriage does exist. Then the wifey sees her in the winn dixie parking lot making out with some old lady. But, nothing ever came from that. All the while in two and a half years they have never spoken to me, but the one time she asked me if she could move her mailbox next to mine. Which she never did. But, then out of now where their dog gets out and wifey brings him back and now we are friends. Bam, just like that. They wave at wifey, make small talk when she is edging the yard. Wait maybe she is hitting on wifey and I should watch out. Who are you kidding she would beat me up with her pinky finger in her sleep. I will not piss her off. Thanks.

Then their are the old people who live in the three houses next to me. House one- 89 year old lady, with the boyfriend that says sexual things to her in front of everyone. House two- 75 year old lady who makes quilts for 25 dollars. House three- A vet that has been pretending to be crazy for so long to get money from the government that he turned crazy. He argued with a cop over an apple that was in his driveway that was not his for three hours.  So here is goes, One is trying to date the vets friend down the street because he has more money than her current boyfriend, and she needs a boyfriend that will take her on vacation. One asked Two to make her an online dating profile so she could find a rich boyfriend. Because at 89 what one needs is a rich boyfriend. Well, two said no I wont do it. You buy a computer and do it yourself, so she got pissed. Now one is not talking to two, and one turned the vet against two also. Don’t let one of them catch you talking to the others or they will give you the look of death. I am just waiting for cops to get called over an old people fight. It would be hilarious. Teeth flying through the air, slippers across the road, and whatever else old people would fight with. Maybe there are really a secret polygamous mormon family with secret underground tunnels between their houses. Or, maybe they are all cousins and have been feuding since birth. Who really knows.

Until next time.

I will point and laugh at you.

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I have a bone to pick with the snotty college runners at the lake.

Oh so you are in your early 20′s and run, good for you. I am sure that makes you feel really special. I am here to break it to you, you are not special. In fact only your mommy and daddy think you are special, and maybe not even them.

When a car is driving on the road, yes, the road where cars have the right of way and you have nothing. You cannot just continue to run down the middle of the road. I know you think your shit doesn’t smell because you got into a state school. Please tell it to someone who cares.

Get out of the damn road.

I am quite certain you expect me to drive up onto someone’s lawn, or magically grow wings and fly my car over the lake, so you don’t have to move two feet over to the side of the road. But maybe, if you actually attended class instead of running in circles for fun, you would know that I cannot do that.

Please be warned next time, I will honk my horn, stick my head out the window, and yell that it is a life threatening emergency, and you will be held liable for not moving your ass.

And if that frightens you and your fall, I will laugh. And point. Take a picture and put it on facebook.

 

Damn college kids, just because you can dress like a slut, drink for days with no end in sight, and sleep with half the football team all before the weekend, does not make you magical. It makes you lame.

Even your friends think so, they just can’t tell you because they are too drunk to remember.