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Identity Crisis! Spongebob, stripper, or hooker?

This was Mardi Gras weekend! Fun times! I usually march in the parade with a Lawn Chair Krewe. No seriously… that’s a thing. Here’s a clip of us featured on the news here.  Just fast forward about 2 minutes until you see the hardcore athletes with lawnchairs.

It was a fun parade as usual.

Mardi Gras 2013

Usually after the parade I hang about downtown just long enough to see things that no one will believe without pictures. Like this:

baby bop

If I die tomorrow, let it be said that after seeing Baby Bop working the stripper pole, it is likely that I had experienced all that life had to offer!

This year though, my husband and I had a hot date for dinner and a show at the Fox Theater.  So we put ourselves up in a swanky hotel for the night.  Another experience all should have: Go straight from a parade wearing Spongebob pajama pants, beads, and your hair in ponytails and watch the faces of the people in your hotel lobby as you saunter by.

I had just enough time to de-parade myself and magically turn into a princess for our evening.  Unfortunately, I didn’t pack well for such polar opposite events.  I realized that I had neglected to bring any other lipstick besides the fire-engine red that I wore in the parade.  I also didn’t bring my wedding rings.  I can’t wear them while flinging my aluminum chair!

None-the-less, I dolled up.  With my dark hair and olive complexion, I decided that the red lipstick was still better than none (besides, we were seeing Pricilla Queen of the Desert, nothing is too outlandish for that show.)

We had a lovely dinner and loved the show.  Well, I loved the show.  My husband was a great sport about it, but watching buff men wearing either nothing but speedos or ballgowns is not really as much his idea of a great night out as mine!

It was raining by the time we headed back to the hotel and my sweet dear dropped me off at the door while he went to park.  I made my way up to the 17th floor and as I was walking down the hall I could hear that we had some post-Mardi Gras young men staying in a room near us.

They were loudly chatting about strippers that they either had, or dreamed of, hiring.  One was bragging about the company he had shared with another kind of hired woman.  Great!  I was tired and ready for a good nights’ sleep, not Baby Bop rocking it for these tools two doors down.

I get to our room and try the key.  Doesn’t work.  Damn.  I know my hubby is on his way so I just stand outside the door, leaning on the wall.

Pretty soon this group of guys wander out of their room.  They stare at me… I quizzically look back.  One snickers.

OMG!  I’m standing in the hall of a hotel… in a black trench coat and high heels.  I don’t have any wedding rings on and I’m wearing fire engine red lipstick.

Do they think I’m their Baby Bop stripper?!?  Do I set them straight?  Or make it clear that I’m someone else’s room service, “You’re not old enough to afford me boys.  I’m here for the accountant parking the Mercedes!”  Or do I utilize my best ‘mom voice’ and say, “Be careful out there boys, no drinking and driving.  Beware of pick pockets and loose women!”

Don’t make eye-contact!  Text the husband, “Hurry!”

Fortunately they are on their way out of the hotel and I am rescued by my hubby with a working key.

Thank you, Mardi Gras, for breathing some surreality into my otherwise rather domestic life.

Mardi Gras 2 2013

The parade was so cold, I threw  my Spongebob t-shirt over my black trench coat.  Who knew that mere hours later that same trench would have me looking all hookered out!

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One response »

  1. Oh my goodness… This sounds like a magnificent time.

    Like

    Reply

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