Mish Mashy Mish Mash

by CajunKate

So, I haven't posted anything in almost three weeks. I've discovered, in the time between, that there's a weird phenomenon that takes place when I don't write any blog posts. I am transported back to the anxiety I had when I began this blog last fall. I thought then that any writing I did would be boring and pretty useless, but I wanted a way to keep track of family stuff and let people in on what's going on so that...well, so that basically I wouldn't have to use the phone as much, I guess. But, luckily, my family knows that I am, essentially, a selfish and vapid person, and they still love me. Back then, I didn't think about anyone other than family reading my posts. Silly me, as it turns out a number of non-family people actually emailed me to tell me that they were indeed reading them and, more astoundingly, finding them vaguely amusing. And as I posted more and more, I got more and more comfortable and, as you may have noticed, more and more long-winded. A sure sign of comfort...which brings us to now. With the overwhelming school schedule, I hadn't had time to post anything. Then the longer I went without posting, the more I thought that any ideas I had for a post were stupid and boring, so I did what I always do when confronted with things that bring me anxiety, I procrastinated. This is an inherently faulty coping skill of mine. You see, the more I procrastinate, the more worried I get and that leads to more procrastinating. You can see where this is going. It's a big ol' vicious cycle that inevitably ends with me having to give myself a mental smackdown in a drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket manner during which I berate and sneer at myself. This usually goes down with something like this flying around in my cranium- You f***ing wuss! Get off your a** and just do what needs to be done! F***ing moron who doesn't realize you're just making things worse! Which brings us to today wherein I will throw out all three weeks' worth of ideas that I've had for blog posts in a complete, disorganized mess. Huzzah! Off we go.

Driving through Lafayette at the end of February on a bright, sunny day when the temperature was just delightfully mild and spring-like, seeing all the azaleas and camellias in bloom got me thinking that maybe this time of year is wasted on Louisianians. I don't think we give those kind of days the proper appreciation they so richly deserve. The general mention of weather on such days around here is, Wow. It's a really nice day. I really don't think that happens to the Yankees. By the time spring actually arrives for them, I imagine they all go into a Disney-like happiness spiral. They run out into the world ripping off their parkas and thermal insulated underwear as they go, dropping to their knees to kiss the little flower buds, and screaming out to everyone they meet, Look! The sun! Look! You can see my legs! I put on a pair of shorts because the temperature rose above fifty degrees! God bless you, every one! Here in Acadiana, we think Why did I even bother to get those sweaters dry cleaned. I only got to wear them once. Ah, f**k, it's seventy degrees in February. That means I'll be sweating my a** off sometime soon. Six months or more of buckets of perspiration before I get delusional again in October and send the sweaters back to the dry cleaner. I f**king hate summer. This is why in the month of January we all need to trade places with those residing in Wisconsin. This would ensure that we are properly appreciative of our early and lovely spring days, no matter the fact that we only get approximately ten of them before we have to endure the next half of the year steeping in a humidity stew. There you have it. My own little theory. Fun!

But wait! I had more fun during the procrastinating interim than just coming up with unfounded theories. Such as when I found out that Ralph Nader had entered the presidential race, saw this on the internet, and laughed hysterically. That was fun.



Also, I saw this, and it made me laugh hysterically. That was fun, too. (Click pic to enlarge.)



Then there's this, which inspired me to laugh and think about my dad. Happiness two-fer. That was even more fun. (Click pic to enlarge.)



Also, my love of Barack Obama has been cemented now that he does such awesome things for me every day. Fun, right? (Oh, here's the story on that site in case you are wondering about how such a thing came to be.)

Need more fun? Why not give someone the finger today? You know you want to.

And, finally, here's proof that I did actually have some non-internet related fun on a furlough from jail...I mean, school. Alex and I went to the Cajundome to see the Cajuns take on Denver. It was a "white out," and they were giving out free t-shirts. Alex made the mistake of not getting one, which prompted me to go all crazy Southern wife on him in the lobby, yelling Whaaaat? Go get your t-shirt! We don't pass up free s**t! like maybe I was raised during the Great Depression or something. But, in the end, it was all Cajun basketball, the 'rents, and mmmm, beer! Now that's fun!

Dad's happy smile= Cajuns win

Mmmmm, MY beer!

Dad and Alex

Almost final score

Cajuns huddle to celebrate as co-champs of the Sunbelt Western Division

But I'm not the only one who's been having fun. What do you do when you're a president and one of the most hated men in the world, and it suddenly strikes you, as you wait for the Republican nominee, that your time in a world of s**t is soon to be over? You freaking dance, man! That's what you do!


Enjoyed that mess of a post? No? Well, look at it this way. With any luck, you've got a good three weeks to get over it before the next one comes along. Keep on, keepin' on, my peeps!

Super Saturday!

So yesterday was a great day for me. First, I got a call from Ted asking me to come over and babysit the boys for a couple of hours while he went to run an errand. When I walked in, Gabe leaped into my arms exclaiming, "I want a kiss, Nanny Kate!" It was so sweet that I found myself thinking, Oooohhhh, I want a baby! I love this! Forty-five minutes later when Gabe was pummeling Sam for "making him" fall off of his bike, I was thinking, I must never, ever have one of these! But we had a good time, all pummeling aside. I got schooled by John. After informing him that he had to go back in the house and put on shoes, his reply was "DON'T fuss at me, Nanny Kate!" I obviously have a real way with three-year-olds. Also, Max and I played a lot of Hyper Dash, which caused me to wheeze and groan and nearly pass out, and I think I pulled a hammy. The most hilarious part of the day was when Sammy told me, "Thanks again for getting me that LSU hat, Nanny Kate!" Max, the oldest and wisest of the little man clan (Thanks, B Daigle, for that new moniker!), solemnly looked into my eyes and stated, "He's a disgrace to the family, Nanny Kate." Inside I was chortling and high-fiving him, but in reality, I did the right thing and made various mouth noises about being free to support any team you'd like, yada-yada. I was pretty proud of myself for that.

Later in the day, Alex and I hit the Cajundome to watch the Cajuns take on the FAU Owls. The mayor and first lady graced the Dome with their presence, as well. As I have mentioned before, my lovely parental unit purchased a pair of season tickets for Alex and me, and the seats are right next to theirs. (Thanks again, Dad and Mom!) We had a blast watching the Cajuns kick some serious Owl *ss and winning the game by nineteen points.

Cajuns on offense

Coach Lee drawing up the game plan

And I indulged in a couple of tasty beverages that make up a good ninety percent of why I love going to Cajun basketball games.

Mmmmm..beer!

After the game, the mayor and first lady suggested that we continue our little party. "Where do y'all want to go eat?" the mayor asked. "DEANO'S!" I yelled out before anyone else could get a word in edgewise. Since the mayor tends to indulge me, he didn't even take any other suggestions and off we went. At Deano's, we had to wait a bit, so Byron and I (okay, mostly I) ended up screaming at the TV cheering on the Giants who, at that point, were beating the Patriots. I must admit that yelling out "Shut it, Vrabel!" in a crowded restaurant does tend to draw a few stares. I really don't have a beef with the Patriots, just Tom Brady. Why, you ask? Well, two years ago Brady was my fantasy football team's QB. I just needed to win that game, and I'd have been in the playoffs. All he had to do was get the same average number of points, like 18 or 19, that he'd been coughing up without fail all season long. That douchebag had the worst game of the season and only got 2.5 points and kept me out of the playoffs. The next week, he scored 35 points. I almost bought an airline ticket, so I could personally punch him in the face. (What? Okay, so I take fantasy football a little too seriously. Is that so wrong?) Anyway, that's my beef with Brady, and it doesn't matter anyway because no matter how much I tried to put a hex on the Patriots last night, they still ended up winning the game and making history by going 16-0, blah-blah-blah. Whatever. I still hate Tommy, even though he looked freakin' smokin' hot(!!) in that three-piece suit at the post-game press conference. Where was I? Oh yeah, Deano's! This place has the best- hands down, no contest- pizza in Lafayette. We scarfed down a big ol' sampler with Marie LeVeau, Cajun Canaille, Mufaletta Pie (add anchovies for Dad), and BBQ chicken. It was yummy, yummy, yummy! Love that place! And Mom and I polished off a pitcher of Killian's Red (mmmmmm, beer) together. The best part was the conversation, though. I found out that Dad was a soda jerk and a pharmacy delivery boy in his youth. I never knew that! He claims he was the best delivery boy Church Point has ever known, setting land speed records on his bike. He earned eight dollars a week. He also told hilarious stories about C.P.'s straight-from-Italy movie theater owner and the raging knock-down, drag-out fights the guy and his wife would have behind closed doors that could be heard all the way down the block.

And then Dad and Mom paid for the whole thing. Oh my God! Could my day have been any better? I think not. And then we went home, where I simultaneously cursed at and drooled over Tom Brady on TV, and then I stumbled off to bed, where I promptly became dead to the world... awesome!

Note: Yesterday, B Daigle left a comment stating that the mayor and first lady's place should be referred to as Daigle Manor, as coined by himself and Byron circa 1994, and that Melissa's nickname is spelled Sista, not Sistah (my bad!) and that it was Aimee and Charlie who gave the little man clan (love that!) the coonskin caps for Christmas and not himself and Sista. So...apparently, I have an editor, people! Holla!