Happy Lundi Gras!

While everyone else in America ran out to see Medea’s Family Reunion this weekend, I was partaking in that unique form of debauchery that goes unforgiven until this coming Wednesday: Mardi Gras!

I teased you about it. I showed you fat people in beads, as you’ve come to expect from me. But now I can tell you flat out how fabulous this holiday is.

I traveled to Mandeville, Louisiana for the parade. Mandeville may not be the travel destination of the average Young Urban Homosexual. (It sits in St. Tammany Parish which happens to be the *only* parish – or county for you Yankees – in this very conservative state that actually has more registered Republicans than Democrats. It’s also the homebase of former St. Tammany GOP Chairman and state legislator David Duke.) It is, however, one of the friendliest places on the planet. My brothers both lived there for several years and I can honestly say that I’ve never been to a friendlier place. Everyone on this trip bent over backwards to be welcoming, friendly and nice – while ignoring that I’m a liberal Democrat. Then again, they may have been too drunk to notice.

Mardi Gras is unlike anything you can imagine. Some history for you so I don’t have to explain exactly where I was and what I was doing.

First of all, like all great things, it was brought to you by the Catholics. And by great things, I mean shameful things that are easily forgiven with a trip to confession. Mardi Gras (or as it is more accurately referred to, Carnival) is a pre-Lenten trip down the Federline-paved road to Sodom and Gomorrah. (I would prefer the more popular Sodom to Gomorrah any day!) Carnival is typically a two-week festival culminating on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, Fat Tuesday or for the linguists in the crowd, Mardi Gras. (This year, Mardi Gras in New Orleans will only be a week long, out of respect for the dead and all.) The festival is celebrated with grand parades, outlandish costumes with sequins and feathers, cheap jewelry, loud music, nudity, alcohol in excess – your typical night at a gay bar.

Each parade is organized by a krewe. Each krewe is made up of members who pay annual dues as well as buy all the beads and other throws that they’ll use during the parade. It’s kind of like a social club. It’s probably a remnant of days past that aren’t really smiled upon – you know, all white men, etc. But it’s quaint and fun.

I joined the Original Krewe of Orpheus, which rides in Mandeville. It’s called that because that pansy from New Orleans, Harry Connick, Jr., stole the name for the krewe that he started in the late-nineties.

We rode through the streets of Mandeville on Friday night. It was nuts. I was really, really drunk, so I probably can’t tell you much about it. I can share these photos, but I’m not really good for much else. I am however amazed at how many of these photos I’m in, which means my drunk ass gave my very expensive camera to a number of strangers who were as drunk or more drunk than I was.
I saw a lot of boobies. Not claiming to be an expert here, but I really think most of them were sub-par. The media has us thinking that “women of size” are living their lives in shame, unable to live up to the physical expectations created by Hollywood. If Friday night is any proof, fat girls are living in shame because they’ll flash their titties to anyone one dangling something shiny and maybe edible in front of their face. The boobies that I saw did not live up to my expectations. It may have been because the ‘hos who show are doing it on the sly. It really is a more family oriented parade than what you’d find in the city.

We also met the gay guy from Extreme Makeover Home Edition. The show was working in New Orleans this weekend and the gang rode in our parade. Ty didn’t show. Punk. With beer flowing and Jell-O shots jiggling, you can bet the gay would show though! By the way, he’s freakishly tall!

I stumbled home sometime around 1:00 AM. Thank god for the limo that took me home. My day ended about 17 hours after my first drink at 8:30 over breakfast. I figured I consumed about 327 gallons of booze come the end of the day.

I’ll be in a confession for a while, you might as well take a seat in the pew.