Well, Fat Tuesday was alright. I wore the most comfortable shoes possible and still wound up with blisters the size of Texas. But the MAMGA parade was fun, I caught whole bags of candy and boxes of Little Debbies, mmm. A ton of cookies, for some reason... just what I need, a bunch of junk. But a flirty black man on a float directly handed me a pair of lacy red Mardi Gras panties, how nice. Alot of the girls like to wear the panties over their jeans for the day, its very attractive. My mom just walked in and saw these panties laying next to my beads and such, and exclaimed "Where did you get that...THING?" how do you tell your mom a middle-aged man handed them to you and asked you to put them on? So I didn't.

The main strip, Dauphin Street, was packed out with people, I mean shoulder to shoulder, ass to ass. Grand Central (our most popular, successful club) was filled to the brim so people were all over the balconies and filled the street. The four of us went to Picklefish for a pizza, and they had a lovely sign that read "Slices for Boobs". See, this is the big difference between New Orleans and Mobile Mardi Gras. In the N.O. there are orgies in the allies and homosexual brothels where the male prostitues are chained to walls (you may think I'm kidding, but I'm not) and HERE, most girls are not willing to show their rack to anyone, let alone the pizza boys. I'll just pay for my pizza, thank you.

And to my surprise, of the thooooousands (244,000 to be exact)of people downtown today, it seems there was only me and one other girl wearing cowgirl hats. I mean, this is Alabama! We ALL wear cowboy hats to Mardi Gras. Except for today it seems. Just me and one other girl, and we managed to find each other and compliment our identical hats. If there was another girl wearing my hat, I certainly didn't see her.

And I really liked Bestfriend's newest love interest...until today. In Picklefish, he decided he would accuse us, the female populace, of having "unrealistic expectations" and "too high of standards" when it comes to male appearances, because of the way actors or male models look nowadays, and claiming we expect all men to look like Brad Pitt. He is saying this all the while sitting next to Bestfriend, who is the standard of American beauty expectations. Tall, thin, blonde, blue-eyed, tan, and, well, equipped. He made a total ass of himself, accusing us of only liking one type of male, when he OBVIOUSLY only likes one type of female, the "ideal" kind. So what if he paid for our pizza? I don't like him anymore. He offended me. Greatly. Because I fit only one of those attributes, and yet, it's never enough, obviously. Me and Brooke just let him ramble. What a jackass. I am so offended. Did I also mention he was trying to fondle and feel-up Bestfriend the entire time we were at the table? I hope she gets rid of this one, and soon.

Mardi Gras was fun, but I'm glad its over.