Boobies and Butts

As mentioned before St. Louis holds the second largest Mardi Gras next to New Orleans and it happens to be right in my little neck of the woods. So sure enough, despite warning of others that live around us we stocked up on beer and opened our doors to our friends. My good friend Ryan flew in from Colorado, because God knows my friends hate to miss a good party even more than I do. We cooked breakfast for over fifty people and then the boobies and bare butts were flying out of our windows. Not our boobies or bare butts because we like to pretend from time to time that we are too classy for such acts. I won't however claim that I do not associate with folks who are too classy to do such a thing.

Surprisingly upon awakening the next morning I found not even a single can of beer to be thrown away; my friends are just that good. Other than having to scrape about ten inches of black shoe/snow/slush/beer/what ever else film off my floor and relocate a missing toilet seat there was nothing left but my perfect little apartment.

Which actually do not fit at all into what I was expecting. Mostly I expected the worst, not that I think badly of my friends, but packing 100,000 thousand people into a tiny town that might be about a square mile big never seems like a good idea to be involved in. Oh, and a little because my brother and I used to make a game out of stealing the little rod that holds in people's toilet paper at parties in college. I was sure Karma was going to hit. That and the fact I used to make fun of retarded kids never helps much in the karma department either.

Other than kicking out a few random people; three guys who informed us we should lock our door, and one girl whom my friend insisted to me, just needed to use the bathroom and I was not to worry because she "seemed really nice," Things went amazingly well. I liked the "seem's really nice." Because, you know, people who are going to steal your shit and barf in your bath tub are always assholes first.

I will leave you with a few pictures from the event, leaving out of course most of the people that were here, as most of them are teachers and I am sure would prefer the internet not be plastered with pictures of them playing drinking games, dancing, or putting lighters in their butts. You can see our street before, a float at the parade, and a ton of boys staring at my upstairs neighbors window as they had many more bags being flashed up their than we did.

I miss my friend Ryan already, and I can assure you that if any of you have a friend Ryan he is not nearly as cool, good looking, funny or tolerant as mine friend Ryan is. And no you can't have him because I want him all to myself. So just continue living your own lives with your own friend Ryan's knowing they will never be as good as mine.