Here, Take a Bite

Friyayyyy! After the noon hour no less. What joy! What happiness! (Just kidding I’m really fucking sad and nothing will fix it at the moment.)

Yesterday, I engaged in some much needed therapy because I had a lot on my mind. The therapy: MEAT. So, so much meat. And friends! Friends are good too. (hey, girl!) My pants are still pretty loose today so I think I’m okay; I forgot to wear a belt. Caloriefest2016!

Recently, we started compiling a list of fun happy hours to try around town. The winner for this week was Primitivo, a new(ish) restaurant concept that offers up mostly meat dishes with everything smokey and delicious from their “wood, coal, fire, salt” cooking modality.

Three of us got together and housed 32 gigantic meaty ribs that go for $1.50 each during happy hour. The first plate of twelve was just one giant rack. When we went for twenty, they plated it like this:

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Actually, that is not true. The top four ribs were sadly exiled to their own plate. Why!? We didn’t know so we moved it for my photo.

And we feasted. Hard. Because in addition to the ribs, we started out with some smokey tripe with tomato sauce and jalapeños. Then, in case that was not enough, we also ordered the ceviche. Yummy, yummy.

Yes, I ate all of my feelings. Yes, it felt great. Later, we went next door to the Jazz Market to have a cocktail and listen to some music. Did I mention that I was working through some shit? And had some seriously solid friendbuddies to roll with. Thanks, guys!

What a great idea to go see music because nothing helps the confidence like the lead musician literally singing to you directly. On the microphone. And then playing the trumpet oh so masterfully with those soft, soft lips.

Hello there, sir. Oh my gosh you are making me blush.

Who doesn’t like a public display of “Wow you are so gorgeous!” from someone that is pretty famous. Gahhhh! (PS – we made out!) Very PG but kissing nonetheless. Kissing! Me…kissing a man. An attractive, talented one! One that I assume is single based on the public display but I decided not to lead with that question.

It is as if everything about today – including the gloriously warm, sunny weather and flirting with a guy last night is an affront to my general feeling that today is hard and sad and I’ve got writer’s block for this work project and woe is I.

Hard and sad, I tell ya!

But it is almost over and at 11am I got a lovely text that opened with “Good morning beautiful…” from the sexy musician. I melt! He wants to know what I’m doing tonight but I think “Binge eating and reading my book alone” is not a very good response. I still didn’t write back.  Ugh I am not ready to date. I hate dating! And I’m a crappy person for not writing back already!

Also seeing as my horrible insomnia had me up since the early dawn, I really am hoping to just curl into my bed and sleep as soon as the sun drops from the sky. Maybe a run first. That always makes me feel better.

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Table for One, Please

Ah yes, friends. The magic of dating. Mardi Gras, as you all probably can guess, is not my strong suit for the meeting or retaining of boys. And, if you happen to live in New Orleans, that also puts Valentine’s Day creeping around one corner or another. Yippeee.

I met Dr. Glitterbeard at the Space Ball. We met in line to get ourselves jazzed up with some Get Fly Bodypaint and were having a good time. We had mutual friends, and apparently, he was of the opinion that I was the hottest girl there. (High five, me!) My costume wasn’t fully baked because of the pressures of graduate school but the final product was some sexy red star pasties, a gorgeous handmade hood, and matching red bottoms. I was pretty on fire. Fun times.

He asked me to dance, and then if I wanted to get a drink. (Yes!) And of course, Sometimes Boyfriend happened to be nearby with The Ogre so the timing was pretty nice for me to get such flattering male attention. Two vodka sodas and an almost kind of kiss later, we were cutting it up under the black light. After a song or two, I took him to find some other friends that we realized we shared in common from his undergrad days. We realize we’ve lost his friends so he excuses himself to go find them. I figured I’d bump into him later and went on with my fun. Fast forward to me, bumping into his (our) friends first. Here is what I get: “You know he’s married, right?”

Ummm no, I did not. Got ZERO married vibes. Of course, it was all fairly platonic so not real lines were crossed (unless you count the no-tongue kiss thing) although I’m sure if the wife was there I would not have been the center of attention for so long. Anyway, awkward and moving on. I did bump into him later with a coarse “Hi, you are MARRIED!?” to which he responded “Wasn’t gonna happen, lady.” Or something to that effect with a fairly rude undertone.

Whatever, dude. Enjoy the ball.

Then, of course, Fat Tuesday happened. Yippee. And as I attempted to gather my life together and sweep up the glitter, Valentine’s Day came and went with another year of light acknowledgement of another day where society expects us to eat too much food in the name of LOVE. (Pro tip, have sex before dinner so that the after dinner sex can be kind of drunk and relaxed.)

Sigh.

Even though I had no special someone to drape myself in gorgeously scandalous lace for, I do have an awesome friend who got super crafty and made some great Valentines (see below). We did venture out on the sunny Sunday for some quick binge eating of Vietnamese food at the annual Tet Celebration. That was a good call. It was a beautiful day for a drive out to the East (when I wasn’t the driver) and it was nice to catch up.

And later, because I am a graduate student in English, I hung out with Henry James (really, dude…why so many words?) and enjoyed a long walk and two solo glasses of wine. Because you know what, I’d rather just date myself than someone that doesn’t light my fire.

12717504_10103695866555600_5276383802883651588_n(Photo and Art Cred: Camilio Estevez)

Apparently I’m a Cunt

When Sometimes Boyfriend’s new ogre of a girlfriend decided to scream in front of the whole street like a drunken fool, “Why are you such a cunt!?” and smash a drink over my costume it reminded me of a bully one time on the school bus. Happy Mardi Gras! (My outfit is wet, shall I explain to the world why you used a female vagina as an insult?!)

Back to bulling. Man, that time on the bus was rough. It was the day I learned that a) I’m not symmetrical and b) what a queef is. This was a rough day (that day and today) Boys are the worst.

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My wig never recovered…

Back to bullying – on the school bus! In the 90s when that was a thing.. So, after the whole bullying escapade we all get called to the principal’s office and I had to (Miriam Webster) explain what a QUEEF was. SO, said. “It is a fart from the vagina”, ma’am. (that last bit is debatable…)

I love words. Today I learned how to be classy. Thanks for making me proud to be a cunt.

Also, I have not been in (lost, I promise) a fight since I was twenty, so… I will not be provoked even though in my mind I played out all the winning hair pulling massacre that one dreams of when girls are being mean.