Sleepless In Massachusetts

I don't sleep very much, but it's not for lack of trying. We keep our room fairly cool, and have a very comfortable mattress, so it's not that. We even bought 'luxury' bedding in an attempt to help me sleep. (FYI- save your money.) So what's the problem? It's complicated, but I'll try to explain...

My husband hogs the covers and my cat sleeps on my head. There. I said it. So maybe it's not that complicated, but it is frustrating. Let's take a closer look at these wildly irritating factors:

#1) My husband hogs the covers. When we get ready for bed all is well. I have my fair share of the blanket, and I'm feeling optimistic that I'll be able to sleep through the night. He even promises that tonight will be the night that his reign of cover-hogging-terror will come to an end. It doesn't matter that he has promised this unsuccessfully for the last few years, I believe him. So, in my highly optimistic mood, I kiss him goodnight and he rolls over. He falls asleep quickly and begins to make these content little "I'm asleep and it's SOOO heavenly" noises. Over the course of the next hour he successfully wraps himself up in all of the covers and then starts to twitch. My frustration mounts as I slowly begin to freeze to death. But, hey, at least he's cozy.

#2) My cat sleeps on my head. Before you even say it, I've tried. I've locked him out of the room, to which he slips his paw underneath the door and rattles it...loudly. I've locked him up in the 'cat room' (aka-the laundry room) and he howls this soulful howl that can only be fully appreciated in person. This leaves me with two options: I can (a) let him out, or (b) spend the next morning answering questions down at the police station. (Apparently, a strange howling sound coming from your house is enough to make the neighbors suspicious and call the cops.) I decide to take the path of least resistance and let him out. After fending him off for a while, I manage to fall asleep. Long story short, I wake up, he's on my head and I'm breathing in cat hair. To say I feel irritated is an understatement. I push him off, roll onto my side...

...and come face-to-face with my hubby. He's rolled up so tightly that I'm worried he might slip into an oxygen-deprived coma. (Albeit, a warm and cozy oxygen-deprived coma, but a coma nonetheless.) He's also smacking his lips in sweet slumbering bliss. I feel my eye start to twitch. He promised!! It doesn't matter that he's asleep and unaware of his breach in our verbal contract. He. PROMISED.

All the different ways I can reclaim a small amount of the covers start flashing through my mind. But, honestly, is it worth it? It'll just start the process all over again and I'm too tired and irritated for that. So, I give up and roll onto my back. As if on cue, my cat crawls back to my pillow and lays on my head. I've read that you lose most of your heat through your head, so at least my head is warm. That's something, right? RIGHT?!?

Oh, well. There's always tomorrow night...

Mardi Gras in New Orleans

While I am from Louisiana, I'm not from New Orleans. And while Mardi Gras is celebrated all over Louisiana, to truly experience it you have to go to New Orleans. The French Quarter is like a city unto itself. People are packed in there shoulder-to-shoulder and 95 percent of them are drunk and/or in costume. You'll find every balcony full of spectators waiting for women to flash them. Some balconies have even been known to have bras covering them. From beginning to end, Bourbon Street is filled with music, laughter and plenty of alcohol. If you find yourself there, you must get a Hurricane or a Hand Grenade. Just be sure you have someone who can help you get into a cab and safely back to your hotel room.

Then there are the parades. Everyone is screaming, "Throw me something, mister!" and smiling from ear-to-ear. People are jumping all over each other trying to get whatever happens to be flying off of the float. If you are lucky enough to catch the good stuff, you feel like you've struck gold. You just can't go to Mardi Gras without going to a parade. It's a major part of the experience.

Now, to an outsider, it might seem like Mardi Gras is a big drunk-fest. Perhaps, but it's so much more. It's about celebrating life, enjoying the good things and being with friends. It's an attitude that all Louisianians have and we're proud of it. People come from all over the U.S. (and the world) to experience it. They come to let go of their cares and enjoy the spirit that is Mardi Gras. Natives of this great state are some of the nicest, most hospitable people you'll ever meet. And, boy, do we know how to throw a party.

I really miss it. I miss the celebration, the king cakes, and not being able to move my head because of the many beads around my neck. I want to push my way down Bourbon Street, have a hurricane and go to a parade. I want to ride a trolley at night. Hear the street musicians play. Eat the best food in the world and be around my people. New Orleans is a place that once you've visited, you'll spend the rest of your life trying to get back. After all, you can leave New Orleans, but it'll never leave you.

Happy Mardi Gras, y'all!

Top Ten Reasons I'll Cut A Bitch

While there are more than ten, these are the most likely to have me throwing knives:

1) If you hurt my family. (This one really belongs on the Top Ten Reasons I'll Kill A Bitch, but since death can be caused by cutting, it can be double-listed.)

2) Non-parents who feel the need to advise you on child-rearing. Unless you have a child, put a pacifier in it. You don't know what the hell you're talking about.

3) Telling me how I really feel, even though I just told you how I REALLY feel. So, unless you're one of my multiple personalities, sit down and shut it.

4) Inconsiderate people. For example, people who don't wave when you let them in traffic. If you're guilty of this, I should have the right to slam into you and push you off the road. No questions asked. No jail time served.

5) Telemarketers who keep calling your house long after being told to put you on their do-not-call list. (A whistle works nicely here.)

6) A restaurant that doesn't have mashed potatoes on the menu. So what if it's a Chinese restaurant. Stir fry some brocolli and throw it on a pile of mashed 'taters. De-freakin-licious. Who's with me on this one?

7) One-uppers. I don't care that you think your life is so much cooler than mine. Or that you drive an outrageously priced luxury automobile. Your need to one-up me makes you a candidate for a cuttin'.

8) People who think you're stupid because you're from the South. We ain't stupid. Them schools done learned us real nice. So back off, or I'll introduce you to some lovely folks called 'Swamp People'.

9) Ordering a steak well-done and getting it rare. If it's mooing when you bring it out, it'll be returned for a fully dead cow. (*Note-Having a steak knife at-the-ready makes for an easy cuttin' in this situation.)

10) Smurfs.


Again, this isn't a complete list, but it covers the basics. So if we're ever hanging out, be respectful of the list.