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.


Tall Dark and Handsome

Mardi (party.) Gras edition. In case you live in the regular world, it is Carnival and that means costume is the dress code and you are lame if you don’t get down with it. Costumes also help with bold behavior and bad pick up lines. They kind of go hand in hand. Also, people basically always have a drink or whatever substance du jour so there is a solid lubricant for funny things to be said to strangers (or ex boyfriends).

We threw an awesome party on Friday, and I was all about having a good time that night, surrounded by my best friends who all looked super fierce. Sometimes-no-more Boyfriend was there with his new Skanky Ho and that was annoying but its Mardi Gras and sometimes you just have to deal with it. Of course I wanted to vomit when he was spanking her ass and grunting in line in front of me waiting for Deep Fried Photo because that is just rude. Although, I remedied the situation by imagining pulling her wig off and getting into some crazy lady fight in the movie montage sort of way. As much fun as it would be to go all Heathers on her, this is 2015 and that is apparently not okay. Also he was being disgusting but in slight defense he didn’t know I was behind him during said spanking and grunting (vomit) and once he turned around they decided to quit on the line and that was a good call on their part. (Win.)

After we took some killer photos, I was walking toward the main stage and this guy, we’ll call him Puffy Coat Guy, was going the opposite way. He stopped me to tell me how beautiful I am and asked where my boyfriend was. Since he was Puffy Coat Guy and thus not in costume (lame-o fratty boy) I was not impressed but said I don’t have a boyfriend. I was in no mood to hear the word boyfriend since I was trying incredibly hard to not let Sometimes Boyfriend and Skanky Ho ruin my night. I responded with a general Go Fuck Yourself tone and offered a smirky not-so-sexy laugh because I was now on the receiving end of the worst pick up line ever. But then, to my (eh) surprise he said “well then we should make out because I’m super hot.” He actually said that about himself. So now he’s upped the game and I like his confidence. Since he was actually hot (although also a total douche) and had no mouth sores waving a red flag, I went for it. There’s me and I’m making out with some stranger. I wonder if he used this apparently successful line on some other girl later

Fast-forward awhile and this gorgeous girl said a version of the same thing! I laughed way cuter for her “where’s your boyfriend” comment because she was super pretty and you’ve got to respect the ladies. And, for the record, she was an equally good kisser and I mentally high fived myself before continuing to dance.

Saturday was Valentine’s Day. Great. I had an invite plus one to a bad ass party and no one to go with. You know what is cool about not having even a friend date? I met a boy! He lives Uptown I know this because he swore he would remember my number without writing it down, and I was shocked when he actually did. He had zero lame pick up lines but an amazingly sexy accent and sent me a text around midnight (because he could remember my phone number) and it read “Tall dark and handsome, we kissed passionately at MOMs Ball. You live in Mid City and I live Uptown.” But per usual, I had ran away and didn’t see the text until the next day.

Kissing is fun. But guess what happened later! I accidentally left my phone (damn you, phone!!) in the cab on the way home from the parades yesterday. After resetting my password (again) for the iCloud thing, I successfully tracked my phone – thanks for the lesson, Emily – as it drove around the city. So frustrating. I put a message with my address on it and prayed that with 7%… then 3% battery that someone would see it and help a sister out before the phone died. Around 10 AM I was sure that I would never see my phone again and I had a very sad moment when I considered that I’d never find this mysterious stranger because by the time a new phone arrived he would probably have given up on texting or calling me ever again as I realized I was busy parade-partying and didn’t write back (OH MY GOD I AM AN ASSHOLE).

Alas I am not doomed to fail miserably at everything… the doorbell rang right as I was starting to fill out the Verizon form online for a lost device and IT WAS THE CAB DRIVER! Yayyyy!!! He was like, “Hey, you forgot to pay me last night.” And I, in my fluffy pink robe, was mortified and ran upstairs to grab a wad of cash, leaving him bewildered downstairs. It turns out he was kidding – I did pay, and he was just being a super nice human and bringing me my phone. I tipped him $20 for the hassle and guess what, I have now a date! Happy Mardi Gras!

How Hard Do You Like It?

Hey, now. Get your hands out of your pants, I’m talking about Jell-O. But not the regular sugar/flavor/water kind either, this is about the fun kind. The kind that you couldn’t imagine in your youth while getting excited about the Jell-O Jigglers recipe that Bill Cosby was singing about. I’m talking about shots. Jell-O shots in case you are not following.

A few years ago a friend of mine was hosting a St. Patrick’s Day party at her house near the Irish Channel parade route and I was more than excited to participate by bringing libations and/or food because I love to cook. I was in the Susie Homemaker stage of post-breakup (this was the first break up of the he-who-would-become Sometimes Boyfriend saga) and I was pretty sure that I was no longer heartbroken and definitely game to create something spectacular for the affair. Fortunately for me, my prayers were answered. Someone found a recipe for Irish Car Bomb Jell-O shots and shared the link on the Facebook event and voila, I was all signed up to make them. Shortly thereafter, I was avoiding screaming children while attempting to navigate my cart down the scary aisles of Wal-Mart because I was told from a friend that I could find the correct size plastic cups with lids there.

Here’s the gist of it. You don’t use Jell-O, you use (gasp) gelatin to get the texture and the whole recipe gets made in two parts. The first part is the Guinness part. You have to let that set in the refrigerator all the way before adding the second part, the Jameson and Bailey’s mixture, that becomes the top layer. Very exciting, I know. But here’s the catch. The recipe gives you a range of gelatin to liquid proportion “depending on how hard you like your Jell-O.” And honestly, I really didn’t have an answer to this. I looked at the recipe again and thought about it. The end result was “I guess pretty hard?” I didn’t want it runny and I really had no point of reference because the Jell-O brand kind gives very specific instructions that I doubt I’ve ever strayed from. (Because it is literally the sugar mixture and hot + cold water.) I know I wasn’t 100% on this but what the hell, its festive and for a party and I’m making them! Wohoo!

It turns out, you do not like Jell-O very hard. You want it less hard as evidenced by the bottom layer of my Irish Car Bomb shots. I mean that part was rough to take down. It was chewy. Ugh. I mean really you had to use some chompers on it. Thanks to everyone who battled through the bottom layer because, well, they did look very cool. On the upside, the top layer was a little runny. This basically came because I had less gelatin leftover in the box than for the first layer and I decided “to Hell with this recipe” and put the whole bottle of Jameson in the recipe thus extra diluting the ratio. This worked out because the bottom hard layer could just get tossed out with the cup and we could all just enjoy the pudding-like Jamo & Bailey’s treat on top. Win.

This brings me to today. Well not actually today, yesterday to be accurate. It is Carnival and last night, my dear friend was in charge of leading a group (again) to make 1,000 Jell-O shots so that we can all have a grand old time while we parade. Fortunately for her, I arrived fresh with a positive attitude because, let me tell you, I probably made 50 (100?) of the others and it seemed like a lot at the time. I just browsed through my phone and social media but I can’t figure it out because even though I know I took a photo, it seems to have been taken before my Instagram account. I’ve told you, technology – not my thing.

Regardless, what I AM good at – is organizing and making Jell-O shots. I fresh attitude and some tunes and a few friends and BAM! 1,000 Jell-O shots fill another New Orleans refrigerator and we keep calm and party on. For all of you newbies out there, it is a 1-1 ratio so get your vodka out and start mixing it with some simmering water and colorful flavoring, I promise it won’t be too hard.