Kickoff

Ah, drunk blogging. Why am I awake? Why did I just spell awake "awask"? Mardi Gras is officially here. I think the first real day of Mardi Gras is always Thursday and I am spending my last Mardi Gras Thursday much as I did my first one: unexpectedly drunk (and having lots of fun). We went to a corporate party at the Royal Sonesta hotel and drank free champagne and ate free strawberries, shrimp and filet tips on the balcony on Bourbon Street. I have NO idea what the party was for but they let us in (admission being having to wear a silly nametag on my nice party outfit). And the licquor was free, and I dutifully drank too much of it. (That spelling of "licquor" can't possibly be right. Can it?)

My question is, is it really a bad thing if Mr. Rudolph gets fired from a job that he really, really hates? And knowing that I'm not the most discreet person in the world when intoxicated, isn't it really his fault that I mentioned how unappreciated, underpaid, and, oops, about to move he is? (Did I mention that I imparted this highly privileged information to his boss?) He shouldn't have brought me to his place of work in the first place. Or fed me shots. I really need to perfect this line of thinking quickly. Just in case. But as I tried to 'splain to him, he is either fired from a job he really hates or he's getting a huge promotion. What could be so bad about that? Oh, and now his boss is scared of me. Could that truly be bad?

Either way, my better half has taken his revenge: he fed me Cheetos and Tabasco flavored cheese popcorn (you Louisianans are really taking this Tabasco thing too far) and then put me right to bed. There really is an age cutoff point when you stop being able to digest food like that, particularly right before bed. And now I am awake and paying. But I do love the Thursday before Mardi Gras. After all, should you really begin Mardi Gras weekend without a hangover?