Southern Chill

So last Friday we’re gonna go down to the deep south, Mobile, Alabama. We want to see a Mardi Gras Parade. I HATE BEING AN ADULT!

We both need to work. Stacey has her regular tax project from hell to complete by Jan. 31. I’m trying to finish this job for Alons Bakery. It’s going ok, but we got started about a month later then Alon had planned and now it’ crunch time. So we decide to go Friday night and miss the first real parade of the season, we will catch two parades Saturday night. We are also gonna work on the float and paint the kitchen down there, gonna paint it red.

Bullshit! None of that happened. We did go Friday night. It was cold and we were to late to see the parade. Next day, to cold to work on Fish float. Later that night to cold for either Staceys’ or my folks to join us for the parade. We’re going, me, Stacey and our traveling dog George.

So after 2 really big martinis with Marion, I’m ready. So George, Stacey and I drive down to Broad st. cause it is cold again. We are standing at the barricades when along comes the parade. First it’s the Budweiser horses and George don’t like it. Then the drums and George don’t like it. So George and I go over to the little wall at the CVS, thinking this might be a good spot. WRONG. George wants none of it and he decides to take off towards the house, I fall down, he runs over me, actually he runs on me like I’m a thread mill. I got his leash and I’m on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. George is on top of me trying to run, on my stomach, but he’s going nowhere, just running on me. I’m waiting for either Stacey to come help or the cops to come arrest me for public dog abuse. Neither, it’s so cold the cops are in their car and Stacey is at the barricades with her hands in the air yelling at the guys riding the float.