Mardi Gras season, anything can happen, right?

My friends and I went to a Mardi Gras Ball last night, we had a blast. Typical debauchery, sequins and feathers were everywhere.

A few of us stayed downtown, near the Ball location, get maximum drinking and party time, ya know. I got up this morning and went in search of real coffee, I guess I was still wearing my sequins from last night, glitter still on my face and chest, and feathers strewn throughout my messy hair.

This guy in a trench coat and pink fuzzy top hat handed me a beer on the street. Hell yea! Who needs coffee anyhow. He invited me to brunch and i didnt hesitate, its the year of do what I want. An hour later we were in New Orleans.  To be honest I may have slept a little in the car, I was still definitely drunk from last night and those handful of beers we chugged on the sidewalk waiting for Claude to pick us up didn’t help.

I should have probably told my friends I wasn’t coming back with coffee, and even invited one or two, but I didn’t. My phone was practically dead, and I wanted to save it for a real emergency.

That brunch was a shit show, Claude and Otter were two of the craziest dudes I’ve ever met. Clearly Otter wasn’t the name his momma gave him, but they refused to tell me anything different or at least give me the story.  Must be something embarrassing. I shouldn’t complain, it’s not like I told them my real name either.

So we met up with 3 more if their friends for the actual brunch, I assumed it was gonna be a dive place, order at the counter, find your own seat type of place. Nope. This was 5-star, white linen tablecloth, reservations made months in advance type of place. I did learn that I was a last minute replacement for Otter’s newly ex-girlfriend, they kept referring to her as Rachet.

Jenna, Kevin’s wife, was soo fucked up. She was looked ok, and didn’t act a fool, but the shit coming out of her mouth. She was either super fucked, or dumb as fuck. She told me she doesnt like chocolate cake because it’s not made with real chocolate. My drunk ass was soo intrigued. What did that mean, what kind of “fake” cake is this bitch eating? Apparently my questions were too invasive, she got upset, and then we got into a fight.

I mean it wasn’t really a fight, nothing physical, bit she started yelling at me, accusing me of calling her dumb. Which I did not say. What I said was ‘are you sure you can tell the difference if I make you two cakes, one with milk chocolate and one with cocoa’? I mean, I’m pretty sure this bitch didn’t know what the difference between cocoa powder (powder chocolate in its truest form) and milk chocolate ( cocoa and sugar and milk). I thought of it as a discussion, but her and Otter thought I was being soo mean.

Somehow we got past the “chocolate cake” incident. Conversation went forward with topics of pegging, gummies versus vapes, Blondes vs. Brunettes, girls named Jessica, transgender prostitutes, ex-college athletes, etc.. all the random shit. It was a blast.

Leaving brunch being thoroughly drunk on Zinnias, and no fucks to give. I was ready to party.  I had an nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I should go home. But fuck, this was the year of no fucks, it was Mardi Gras, I was in New Orleans, and I actually didn’t know how I would get home anyhow.  So fun it was….

We went to soo many places, after brunch. Everyone everywhere we went was fucked up, it was great. I don’t remember much from those subsequent hours, but I sure did get a neck full of beads. Not the shitty ones either, ALL of the beads around my neck were high quality, light-up/big medallion. How I got them, I’ll never know.

I woke up at 6am, on a random ass couch, my phone plugged in by my head, Otter snoring on the floor next to me, hand on my leg; and Claude on the loveseat, legs over the top 10 feet away.

Damn. Happy Mardi Gras to me, thank the little Green Men in the sky I don’t have to work for 2 more days.

I cautiously move Otters hand, and sit up. Look at my phone. Fuck 37 new messages, and 58 missed calls.

I send a quick group text to the people that I was with last, at the Ball. Also the hoebags that reached out the most. “All good, in New Orleans. See yall for Happy Hour”

I knew I’d have some explaining to do, but I didn’t care. Life was good, I had a blast, I was safe and happy.

Now, to find a bathroom. Having no clue where I was, I cautiously got up and looked around. OK, felt like an apartment layout, living room check, kitchen with a nightlight and island to the left check; one of these doors down the hall would be the bathroom, right? First door on the right in the hall, nope, that’s a closet. Second door, nope that’s someone’s bedroom, someone having sex in their bedroom. “My bad, looking for the pisser” I whispered.

Next door, on the left, BINGO. But no!!!! Some drunk bitch, wait that’s Jenna is hugging the porcelain God I want to empty my bladder into. There is chunky ass throw-up all over the seat and around her on the floor. I did a wellness check, she seemed fine. So I adjusted her head with a towel underneath, and backed the fuck outta that bathroom.

My options were: do I open the other door and try to locate another bathroom, but without knowing who or what was in there, I wasn’t sure. OR, there was definely a sink in the kitchen, it was just pee. The boys 20 feet away were snoring loudly, dead to the world.

Not knowing where we were, and suspecting I was at Jenna and Kevin’s, knowing she was trashed in the hall bath, and he was a little to creepily touchy feely with me earlier. I decided kitchen sink was a better option, no way that could lead to me committing murder.

So, yeah. I peed in the kitchen sink. It was mostly empty, I ran the water for a minute or two, make sure no know stirred. Then emptied my mother fuckin’ bladder. That felt soooo good. Then I went back to the couch, what was I gonna do, spend $100+ for an uber home. Fuck no.