MARDI GRAS.

About a month or so ago, one of my very best friends, who I love to death (even after this horrible weekend trip) called me up with a plan for a weekend adventure. As a general rule of thumb, I’m down for most adventures. Within reason, of course.

The plan: Feb 17th, catch a train out of Birmingham, AL at noon to New Orleans. Arrive around 7PM, party until the next morning at 7AM when our train back to Birmingham departs.

Now, I’ll admit, in theory it sounded like a pretty good plan. I figured I’d sleep the 7 hours it took to get there, be well rested for the 12 hours we’d actually spend in New Orleans and then sleep the 7 hours back to Birmingham. Little did I know all kinds of forces would be working against us. First, the hating ass weather. The rain caused our train to move at snails pace, for safety reasons, delaying our arrival in New Orleans by over 3 hours. Secondly, there was no sleep to be had on the way to New Orleans. I didn’t realize we’d be riding in the unofficial “party train” and would have to listen to loud talking, bad singing and ridiculous arguments the entire trip.

Once we’d finally arrived in New Orleans, we trekked on over to the French Quarter and let me tell you, I was NOT prepared for the madness. Trying to maneuver our way through the crowd was a serious task. I almost felt as if I was in some sort of deranged video game where the goal was to get from one end of Bourbon Street to the other, all the while trying not to slip (read: bust your ass) on random beads strewn across the floor or getting hit in the head with projectile beads being hurled at you from above. Plus, throw in the random attacks from strangers trying to grab you and fights breaking out only a few feet away from you. It was not fun. 

Around 3AM, I couldn’t take it anymore and thankfully neither of my friends could either, so we trekked back on over to the train station which of course wasn’t open and wouldn’t open back up until 5AM. That meant we had to sit outside the train station homeless-style while we waited on the doors to open up all so we could wait another 2 hours before our train would even depart.

Basically spent 18 hours round-trip on a train to spend a good 3 hours at Mardi Gras where we partook in a slice of greasy pizza, one drink and some corner store chicken. That chicken was actually pretty good tho, it might’ve been the best thing about the trip. 

I think it’s safe to say, I’ll never partake in another New Orlean’s Mardi Gras ever again.

First, let me say Happy New Year. I celebrated this year at home with a group of friends and some board games. Good times all around. Nobody got drunk. Nobody cheated Taboo or any other game. Nobody got cursed at or put out the house. That’s a pretty successful game night if you ask me (or any of my friends).

I’ve been doing some self-reflecting lately, trying to decide what if anything I would resolve to change about myself in 2012. I usually don’t do new year resolutions, because I tend to forget about them come January 2nd. Yeah, I’m that girl. And I find if I want to change something about myself throughout the year, then I’ll start making that effort right then and there (or you know, at the earliest convenient date). Nothing is really different about this year, I’m in a good place and overall happy with the life that I’m living. That list I made 4 months ago, well, it’s a work in progress and I’ve been pretty successful at keeping up with those goals. Well, with the exception of the first one, which if you’re too lazy to click the link was to exercise regularly. Cause, um, unless you count the three flights of stairs I have to walk up and down to get to my condo then I’m failing miserably on that one right there. But hey, I’m not fat either, so there’s that.

So, with that being said, 2012 is the year of the Dragon. I don’t really know what that means except that I fucking love dragons, so it must mean something good. Happy 2012 bitches!

In exactly 75 days, I’ll be 29 years old. Twenty. Nine.

I’m not stressing about it. I actually welcome 29. To be honest, I’ve lived  a pretty cushy life thus far. That’s not to say I haven’t made my share of mistakes. Big mistakes. Or had my days where I was so poor that I had to eat ramen every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Can we say last week and hello sodium? Or cried over lost love. Actually, I won’t admit to that last one, cause I’m a real G and real G’s don’t cry. 

So, at 28 years and 290 days old, I can honestly say I am happy with my life. This morning I woke up and I just felt good. I don’t know how or why, but there was just this really corny, sunny days and long walks type of positivity in the air. Either that or someone put something in my drink last night. Yet, I can’t help but think what’s next. What will 29 bring? And then 30?

I was just sitting here talking to one of my homeboys and I was telling him that I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older or for other reasons that I won’t get into here, but I actually think that I might, possibly, maybe be open to being in a relationship. Whew, I think I just got a little heartburn typing that sentence out. And it’s not that I was ever opposed to it, despite what any of my friends might tell you, I do have a heart. I just never felt like I needed to be in a relationship.  If that makes sense.

But like I said, as I sit here and think about what’s next, maybe that’s it. I’ve got my career. I own my home. I’ve got great friends and an even greater family. I even have a feisty little one-eyed pug. Now, I just need a guy who doesn’t annoy the shit out of me. But don’t all of y’all start throwing your numbers at me all at once now.

And then again, I might be sitting here a year from now re-reading this blog post, trying to figure out what was I on and why?

The following story happened to me 8 months ago. I am not stuck in a time warp. 

Picture this. Except when you picture it, imagine that I’m looking movie star “just woke up” fabulous and not real life, eye boogies and morning breath “just woke up” not-so-fabulous. Okay, thanks.

So, picture this. One morning and by morning, I really mean closer to noon, I was laying in the bed, minding my own. Tyson was laying in his bed, minding his own. No barking, no Netflix, just silence. Until it wasn’t. Someone starts knocking on my door and me, being the neighborly neighbor that I am… well, I ignored it. I wasn’t expecting anybody and I don’t just go around answering the door for anybody. But after about 3 minutes of knocking and some annoyance on my part I finally get up to go to the door. Of course, I grab Tyson so he doesn’t bark and tippy toe my way over, so I can peek out the peephole just in case I decide to play like I’m not home. But by the time I look all I can see is a glimpse of someone walking away. Whatever. So, I jump in the shower.

About 5 minutes into my shower, Joe Whoever is back, this time banging on my door like they had lost their mind. I wrap a towel around me, go to the door take a peep and see 3 police officers. HO-LY SHIT. I crack the door open, cause you know I’m half nekkid and whatnot, give them my nicest but most confused “Yes?” then go run to throw on some clothes after they ask if they can talk to me for a few.

We do about 5 minutes of back & forth “are you okay, miss?”, to which I reply “yes.” and “is there anyone in the house with you” to which I reply “no.”, over and over and over again. I think they were trying to trick me. Finally, I hit them with the ‘what is this about?’. Well, apparently my “concerned” neighbors called the police because they heard a domestic dispute coming from upstairs, meaning my condo unit. Now, considering I had just gotten out of the shower and looked a little frazzled, I probably did resemble a battered girlfriend who had just gotten her ass whooped and went to go cry in the shower, so I’m not sure if they believed me or not when I told them they had the wrong unit. Probably didn’t help that I didn’t have neighbors on either side of me at the time either to point the finger at. Either way, they finally left.

I’m not really sure what happened that day, or who they heard. My guess is that it was actually whoever called the police who was having the dispute. They got scared, called for help and then when the people showed up, they didn’t want to go thru with it and pointed the finger upwards. At me. What I do know, is domestic violence isn’t anything to play with. If you’re in a violent relationship, please know that you’re not alone and there are people who will help you. Use the information below or pass it along to someone who needs it.

** If you are in danger call 911, your local hotline, or the U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 and TTY 1-800-787-3224. – This information was taken from www.domesticviolence.org.