Sometimes I wonder if Fat Tuesday was created just for Catholics as a ‘get it out now because you’re not allowed to eat shit tomorrow.’ Then, Ash Wednesday….we have a bitter-sweet relationship. As a private school alum, Ash Wednesday was always somewhat of an experience. You’re technically not supposed to eat that day and fast in honor of something. I should know what that something is but I often used Religion class as nap-time or to write my homies notes using my new $12 gel pen. Gel pens that would later cause the big blow up of 1999. Due to the fact that I’m food obsessed and feel loopy if I don’t eat every 2 hours, I never took part in the fasting. My version of fasting was eating breakfast, lunch, dinner and pinches of ham out of my lunch bag under my desk when no one was looking. This day also consisted of a second mass in which you got ashed on your forehead to represent….sorry drawing a blank again. I swear I love Jesus and go to church sometimes. This mass was always first thing in the morning and you weren’t allowed to remove or shape your ash pile. By midday, most kids ashes were fading or completely gone…little fuckers. Thanks to my overly greasy T-zone, my shit stayed on until bedtime. The sweet part was that you got a free pass to make fun of people all day.
Next comes no meat Fridays. To ask a family of extreme carnivores, such as mine, to not eat meat for an entire day is like asking the pope not to wave. I really don’t know how vegetarians do it. I think they secretly stash beef jerky in their closet and take hits when no one is around. Yes I live in the burbs but we do shit old school. We get a cow from my grandpa for Christmas for fucks sake. We eat meat as an entrée AND a side. My grandma eats a slice of turkey with her cake and cold coffee. By the middle of D-day (the first Friday of lent) I’m pissed off, hungry and tired. You can only choke down so many PBJ’s and tuna crackers before you’re ready to knife someone. The only thing stopping me is that my co-workers start looking like walking turkey legs and NY strip steaks. Since I don’t go to church often (this is obvious based on my Religion trivia) I feel like participating in Lenten rituals is the least I could do.
Now that we are square, I can move on. St. Louisans are obsessed with two things, Mardi Gras and Cardinals baseball. I prefer the latter as I left my dignity in Soulard 7 years ago and have yet to go retrieve it. Mardi Gras has turned into the ultimate watering hole for married men and boyfriends who think this weekend is a free pass to look at strangers tits because ‘what was I suppose to do, she was in my line of vision.’ I’m sure she was asshole. After much debate I have broken down the ratio of attendees. 15% of women in attendance are underage with something to prove. 35% are single, bored and know Clayton will be dead. And the remaining 50% are there to piss off their boyfriend, husband or to show the person they are ‘talking’ to that you don’t OWN me. The men breakdown…ok let’s face it they all turn into 15 year old boys…10% of boys are there because they had nothing else to do and figured this was their only shot to see a boob or two without paying for it. The other 90% are there on the free pass weekend I previously mentioned.
It’s 3 days of partying that will last until the Spring because that’s how long it takes lazy assholes to climb in the trees and fish out all of the bead strands. These few days, I feel, are on the list of top 3 favorite holidays for St. Louis cops. Let’s face it, they get commission on shit they bust and it’s the Christmas of MIPs, DUIs, DWIs, Drunk in Publics and Public Urination. Not to mention the endless entertainment of watching drunken idiots sell their jugs for a 20-cent strand of beads. If St. Louis is the number 2 Mardi Gras celebration town in the U.S, I’m scared to go to New Orleans. It must smell like pee there for FOUR weeks. I’ve had my share of Mardi Gras experiences so I’ll leave you with some advice. Ladies, do NOT drink roofies out of a strangers camel pack and don’t be afraid to bring a taser. It’s a real crowd pleaser. Wear 6 shirts and bring your own beads…trust me. If your have beef with another lady, that is NOT the time or place for a street brawl. Be classy and take it back home to your front yard.
Finally to my fellow Catholics, good luck next week and remember, if you stay up until midnight just so you can eat a large pepperoni pizza at 12:01am with a side of roast beef and chicken, no one’s judging you. And to the non-Catholics…you lucky assholes, try not to rub your chicken wings and sausage patties in our faces. We will claim temporary insanity from meat depravation and all charges against us for cold cocking you will be dismissed.
As always, it’s been real