Happy Mardi Gras, everyone! Of course, we don't really celebrate Mardi Gras in the northeast, but I'm remembering fondly my years down south and the one year I go to see my friend Adam was in the Zulu parade. Ah, good times!
Of course, since Mardi Gras is a Tuesday, it'll have to share some of the good times with some bad times. In the form of Tuesday's Bad Dates.
In order to explain this bad date, I'll have to share a bit of background information about how I met...Steve.
A couple years ago, I went to a Halloween party at a bar with some friends. My friend, Karen looked spectacular in an elaborate Medussa costume with a toga and snakes in her hair. I was dressed as Princess Leah. (A choice I now know was a big mistake. Any guy around the same age as Kevin Smith harbors similar dorky Princess Leah fantasies and is not afraid to make them known. My hair did look grand, though. Totally my own hair in the side buns with the help of a little device called a "hairigami". Two, actually)
Anyway, along with me and Karen was G-Man, who worked as a landscaper and was dressed up as a landscaper, Brian, who worked as a mechanic and came dressed up as a mechanic, and Sam, who worked in the deli at the grocery store and came dressed as a mad scientist (his deli jacket and safety goggles with a glow stick in his pocket). Do you see a pattern here? Seriously. Why can't guys put in the slightest effort?
So we were all having a good time, dancing on the dance floor, dodging the rubber snakes that were falling out of Karen's hair and drinking pumpkin ale. G-Man had a caribeener around his belt and kept clipping it onto my Princess Leah belt when I wasn't looking. Which meant that whenever I wanted to go to the bathroom or get another beer or get away from a falling snake, I'd end up clotheslining myself and smacking right back into his chest. Sort of funny, yet sort of annoying at the same time. I kept unclipping myself and stepping AWAY from the landscaper yet suddenly, I was clotheslining myself again.
At this point, somebody walked across the dance floor (dressed in a pair of scrubs with a stethescope around his neck) and attempted to come to my aid....asking me if G-Man was bothering me. And that's how I met Steve.