the recovery period

aaand this was me for the next few weeks...

the drive home...later that day...

by this point i'm medically brain dead.
this is sal and mookie's in jackson

the drive home

by this point my brain and i weren't on speaking terms. i was operating on a mechanical level, fueled only by 5 hour energies.
our mission: to find the most standout highway restaurant in the next 50 miles.
we found the dinner bell. (in mississippi, i think.)
but everyone found the dinner bell.
we could only get as far as the front door.



this is the dinner bell.

the next day...

was so hungover excitement gave me headaches

heywazzup, bacchus ball

limo takes us
we bring it

corset fitting

gotta ignore all that fat and measure down to the bone--that girl cinched that tape so tight i didn't even see her hands anymore

rude awakenings

the housemates scheduled everything but sleep

parade anxiety

truckloads of leatherfaces flinging pounds of beads at your face from every angle is fuckin terrifying, man!

bourbon street

NOT my scene

lesbian brass band

just gotta slap yo thighs and busta move

cafe du monde

forecasting flurries of sugar with a chance of passing out

there's something about mary

you make this look easy

mr. mardi gras

thanks, jerry, for giving us the VIP backstage pass to the biggest party in the country!

and now for mardi gras madness! ...

lines don't lie

gas station bbq?
aw hell nah!
wellllll...there is a long line. must be good!







epilogue -
gas station bbq: aw hell nah.
obvs.

life past the cinderella hour

one night i didn't bolt after my shift and guess what--my work is kinda awesome!

dinner fail?

20 questions

love is

can't reach my wine, but that's coo