Krewe and unusual punishment
Why don't they make more holidays like Mardi Gras?
Holidays where people drink on the street and have parades, where cheap shiny beads are currency enough, for just one day, to see bare boobs, where overindulgence in food, strong drink, and the dipping of the sausage are the rule of the day. Just don't expect me to do that whole "40 days of fasting and giving up shit that tastes good and feels good" thing, 'cause that ain't in the contract.
I do my part to make things as festive as possible around the office. We bought a big-ass case of beads for the Bone Rollers, and let's face it - we didn't play enough gigs to toss away that many strings of beads. So I always have a shitload of beads to bring to work every year. I also have a good number of bead strings that already hang in my office, so I just hang those on the doorknob when it gets to be Fat Tuesday. Since the beads I bring in are little dice, I delight in telling people they're intended to be ass beads, then watching the expressions that travel across their face as they contemplate all those little sharp corners and some serious carnage of a tender anus. Would they hurt worse going in or coming out? And why is Katy so handy with the things that go up the ass? Oh, I've seen all the looks. It just never gets old.
I give myself beads to wear, because no one has yet offered me beads for a look at my gravity bags, and then I walk around dispensing the other dozens I've brought with me. Today I even gave away all the beads I was wearing, but not before I captured my dementia with incontrovertible photographic evidence.
You know I've finally lost it when you can see the whites of my eyes through those lenses.
I haven't started drinking yet, to be perfectly honest. It's still about a half hour too early. No, really - my body has this magical 8:00 pm drinking time, and anything before then will result in a coma-like nap that begins not long after the empty glass is set down. My rules are to not drink much, and to never start before 8:00 pm, unless I want to pass out early. Then pass me a waterglass and a bottle of cheap wine.
And the whole sausage dipping thing? Well, not so much today, m'kay? Can't overindulge in what ain't there for the dippin'. In fact, it's best I not think about the whole sausage thing. Somebody out there, please overindulge in the sausage for me. I won't feel better but you probably will.
But that does leave us with overindulgence in edible goods, and I have more than made Fat Tuesday my bitch in that regard. For lunch, I ate all but one slice of a pizza myself (okay, it was a small pizza, but it was a pan pizza). Now I feel like somebody parked a tractor in my belly. Most people would just leave it alone at that, but not me! I had to, simply had to, go buy a dozen paczki from the local donut shop.
Now, it has come to my attention that not everyone knows what a paczki is (and I know I will take some shit for this, as paczki is technically the plural, and the singular is paczek, but you'll just have to suck it up as I will use paczki as both singular and plural). A paczki (prounounced POONCH-key) is a donut on steroids that has roughly one million calories per bite and is made with too many eggs and too much sugar for it to not be considered a controlled substance. It's a traditional Polish treat for Mardi Gras, as a final overdose of indulgence before Lent takes away all the fuckin' fun and replaces it with fish sticks and tomato soup and guilt.
Yes, I took a paczki picture:
I have to confess, though...I couldn't even finish one. You have to understand how much I love well-made cream-filled paczki. We're talkin' serious love, the kind where I could hold the paczki forever, slip my tongue in the filling sphincter and swirl until every last drop of creamy decadance is in my mouth or on my face, and I'm so close to complete overload from the nearly lethal dose of sugar that I just writhe and twitch on the floor for an hour afterward. But I got down to the last four or five bites of the paczki, and realized that one more bite would cause my tastebuds to jump ship from the overwhelming sweetness of it.
Not that it didn't occur to me to do so, but I think I will refrain from showing you a picture of myself in after-paczki state; you might see an image of me collapsed on the floor with powder all over my face and get the wrong idea. No, my friends, the paczki is much more sinister than chemical powdered substances. It's a good thing they're only available once a year.
I hope your Mardi Gras celebrations are filled with good food, company, drink, and sausage.
Holidays where people drink on the street and have parades, where cheap shiny beads are currency enough, for just one day, to see bare boobs, where overindulgence in food, strong drink, and the dipping of the sausage are the rule of the day. Just don't expect me to do that whole "40 days of fasting and giving up shit that tastes good and feels good" thing, 'cause that ain't in the contract.
I do my part to make things as festive as possible around the office. We bought a big-ass case of beads for the Bone Rollers, and let's face it - we didn't play enough gigs to toss away that many strings of beads. So I always have a shitload of beads to bring to work every year. I also have a good number of bead strings that already hang in my office, so I just hang those on the doorknob when it gets to be Fat Tuesday. Since the beads I bring in are little dice, I delight in telling people they're intended to be ass beads, then watching the expressions that travel across their face as they contemplate all those little sharp corners and some serious carnage of a tender anus. Would they hurt worse going in or coming out? And why is Katy so handy with the things that go up the ass? Oh, I've seen all the looks. It just never gets old.
I give myself beads to wear, because no one has yet offered me beads for a look at my gravity bags, and then I walk around dispensing the other dozens I've brought with me. Today I even gave away all the beads I was wearing, but not before I captured my dementia with incontrovertible photographic evidence.
You know I've finally lost it when you can see the whites of my eyes through those lenses.
I haven't started drinking yet, to be perfectly honest. It's still about a half hour too early. No, really - my body has this magical 8:00 pm drinking time, and anything before then will result in a coma-like nap that begins not long after the empty glass is set down. My rules are to not drink much, and to never start before 8:00 pm, unless I want to pass out early. Then pass me a waterglass and a bottle of cheap wine.
And the whole sausage dipping thing? Well, not so much today, m'kay? Can't overindulge in what ain't there for the dippin'. In fact, it's best I not think about the whole sausage thing. Somebody out there, please overindulge in the sausage for me. I won't feel better but you probably will.
But that does leave us with overindulgence in edible goods, and I have more than made Fat Tuesday my bitch in that regard. For lunch, I ate all but one slice of a pizza myself (okay, it was a small pizza, but it was a pan pizza). Now I feel like somebody parked a tractor in my belly. Most people would just leave it alone at that, but not me! I had to, simply had to, go buy a dozen paczki from the local donut shop.
Now, it has come to my attention that not everyone knows what a paczki is (and I know I will take some shit for this, as paczki is technically the plural, and the singular is paczek, but you'll just have to suck it up as I will use paczki as both singular and plural). A paczki (prounounced POONCH-key) is a donut on steroids that has roughly one million calories per bite and is made with too many eggs and too much sugar for it to not be considered a controlled substance. It's a traditional Polish treat for Mardi Gras, as a final overdose of indulgence before Lent takes away all the fuckin' fun and replaces it with fish sticks and tomato soup and guilt.
Yes, I took a paczki picture:
I have to confess, though...I couldn't even finish one. You have to understand how much I love well-made cream-filled paczki. We're talkin' serious love, the kind where I could hold the paczki forever, slip my tongue in the filling sphincter and swirl until every last drop of creamy decadance is in my mouth or on my face, and I'm so close to complete overload from the nearly lethal dose of sugar that I just writhe and twitch on the floor for an hour afterward. But I got down to the last four or five bites of the paczki, and realized that one more bite would cause my tastebuds to jump ship from the overwhelming sweetness of it.
Not that it didn't occur to me to do so, but I think I will refrain from showing you a picture of myself in after-paczki state; you might see an image of me collapsed on the floor with powder all over my face and get the wrong idea. No, my friends, the paczki is much more sinister than chemical powdered substances. It's a good thing they're only available once a year.
I hope your Mardi Gras celebrations are filled with good food, company, drink, and sausage.
21 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
I brought paczki into work today. They were from Meijer's and they weren't very good. That's why I didn't bother to eat the whole thing. Maybe I just got the wrong kind.
And nobody had beads here today. Dice or otherwise.
If lovin' you is wrong,
I don't wanna be right.
That is all.
If what I write doesn’t make sense, it’s because I have misplaced all three pairs of my reading glasses.
I missed Louisville’s Mardi Gras parade and celebration even though it was just half block from my house. My bizarre, sometimes girlfriend has me take her to the hospital (again) because of a painful tooth that really needs to be extracted. Shit!
I’m not sure I comprehend your drinking strategy. Of course, there is a lot that I don’t comprehend.
There aren’t too many Poles in Louisville, so I’ve not encountered Paczki. It do look good. I don’t know until I see it, but a picture of you in an n after-paczki state might be interesting.
I can take sweetness in a donut. It's uber-sweet people that make my tolerance jump ship.
Can you imagine if we celebrated Christmas like we do Mardi Gras?
I don't know about you, but where I live, there'd be a lot of frostbitten airbags.
Mine droop, too. :o(
You'll have to have somebody else do the sausage thing. Sorry. Granted it's been years, but my ass doesn't want *that* kind of sausage...
*goes to laugh, realizes she meant every word*
Oh, shit.
Happy Phat Tuesday! Sorry 'bout the sausage, but the paczki looks pretty dammit good.
Is it just me, or is anyone else remembering the episode of the Simpsons where Homer was a food critic, and was at a street carnival, where there was an assassination attempt made via pastry?
I think it had roughly the same calories as a paczki.
sausage is always good. And I'd give you sharp ass beads for a look at your 'Gravity Bags'!
No food, drink or sausage for me (unless you consider councelling, trout and salad, and a glass of milk as such...).
The description of the paczki was astounding and so vivid.
twitch...twitch...
Wooo! SWEETS! I loves me some sweets!
I want one of them thingys..that looks fabulously YUMMY.
And yes, that is some freaky shit that your eyeballs are showing thru those glasses.
You crazy HAB.
Come on and let the good times roll,
We gon' stay here 'til we sooth our soul,
if it takes aaaaaaallllll night . . .
You put a song at my place, I thought I'd put one at yours, that's the one in my head this morning. My head apparently has day and night mixed up; this is not unusual ;)
Mmmmm. Foooooood.
what Bucky fails to tell you, and she's forgiven - she doesn't live near the EPICENTER OF PACKZI goodness that is Hamtramck, MI like I do, is that packzi also come in DIFFERENT FLAVORS.
Raspberry, Lemon, Custard, Prune...your head explodes from the goodness.
And, no I saw Meijers setting out those boxes the night before and said, no way - gotta be fresh from the bakery oven, and Dunkin Donuts doesn't cut it. Mom and pop bakery is the way to do it.
:)
Someone told me pearl necklaces are the rarest and most sought-after in NO during Mardi Gras - anyone care to elaborate?
Wooo! Flickr finally let me see the pictures! LOVE the new masthead!
Bucky, you're almost smiling in the "Mardi Gras Bead Slut" picture. Just thought you should know. :)
Squirl - ewwww, never trust Meijer brand baked goods. Especially not something so godlike as a paczki.
Susie - No one will EVER accuse you of bein' right, sis.
SS Nick - could you just get them to KEEP her at the hospital? You know, with restraints and stuff?
Hope you find your glasses!
Amy - you won't ever have to worry about too much sweetness here. ;)
M_D - you sure you don't wanna reconsider about that sausage?
Eclectic - the paczki had to make up for my sausagelessness.
Madame D - I don't remember that one, but after the paczki yesterday, I'm pretty sure that's a viable scenario.
Jim - you say the sweetest things! Now, where are them ass beads?
LeafGirl - I talk about food like some people talk about sex...
Is there really so much difference?
CKelli - oh, gawd, it WAS sweeeeeeeet, in every sense of the word.
Pissy - do the crazy eyes qualify me as a HAB even though I've never seen Dirty Dancing?
Chia - but is IT giving YOU up for Lent?
Susie - don't be confused; just dance, dance, dance!
Mr. B - dear lord, are you NEVER full?
ok I know there are more of you since I started this. More to come!
Mike - I think guys only have to pat each other on the butt to get beads.
Opera gal - Hamtramck is truly the Paczki Epicentre. We have the other flavors here, too, but cream ones are the only ones that trip my trigger, so they are the only ones I give any press around here.
And yes, it's gotta be a mom n pop donut shop. NOT Meijer. :)
CKelli - that's not a smile; it's gas.
I never knew how to spell "ponchki"--the ones they have at the european deli here are filled with either raspberry or plum filling...they are to DIE FOR!
No beads over here--and I didn't get any pancakes either...pancakes anyone??
Okay, I just saw your new masthead. Hahahahaha
Where do you put the batteries?
:::ducks:::
As I'm sitting here reading this very post, Dr. John's Accentuate the positive came up on my play list.
GOOD TIMES!
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