Fat Tuesday

Fat Tuesday

Okay, I apologize for not posting sooner, but I’ve been busy… doing what I am not sure. Last week was a lost week. But I promised a good Fat Tuesday story so here it goes.

There was a lot anticipation running up to the Yacht Club’s Fat Tuesday Party. The Yacht club has a new manager. The old manager, Mark, told one of the members to Fuck Off at a private party he was catering. Mark hit the road shortly after that. This is only important because the new manager, Chuck, didn’t know that Ms. Gardner (my mom’s best friend, aka Kay) ALWAYS gets a table for Fat Tuesday. So we didn’t have a table. Kay was really upset about this because she ALWAYS goes to the Yacht Club for Fat Tuesday.

I innocently suggest that we have dinner somewhere else and crash the bar. I am hailed as genius. To seal the deal Kay called and reserved barstools for us.

So the grand day finally rolls around and I am wishing that I could cancel because I am feeling a little blue… a lot blue actually… on the verge of tears all day. But cancelling would cause more pain than enduring it so I suck it up and go.

The Septuagenarians are out in full Mardi Gras regalia, masks, beads the whole bit. The club brought in a great jazz band and I slowly got out of my slump and started to enjoy myself (translation: had a couple of vodkas). Had a nice conversation with Gayle who is an artist and jewelry designer. She will let me use her kiln if I ever get moving on the jewelry thing. Chatted with Suzette, my high school librarian, who wants to set me up with her son when I get to Austin. Suddenly I notice out of the corner of my eye that Kay has snagged some hapless fellow walking in to the bar and is moving in my direction at an unnatural speed. She put his hand in mine and commanded: “Dance!”

He looked bewildered and I said, “We may as well dance because she won’t rest until we do.”

“Who WAS that?”

“That’s Kay”

“Is she your grandma?”

“No, she is my mom’s best friend.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Kay is on a mission from God to get me married off. But I see you are already married so you’re safe!”

“Er uh yeah…”

Long story short, he was a great sport about it and made the mortification factor much less. We talked for a long time and I discovered he is the silent partner at one of the better restaurants in town, Paradise Key (Thuy you have been there- it’s the outdoor tiki bar), owns a record label, and worked in DC for awhile as a contractor in the Old Executive Office Building. He didn’t seem to want to elaborate on what he was doing at the White House.

Meanwhile, I gaze into the crowd for a moment and notice that Lita Lay-a-Man (I’ll save that story for another time, but she is Kay’s nemesis) is giving me the Mal Ojo, and she wasn’t being shy about it. So I give her the Eyebrow Raise. She looked away first. It was a small but important triumph. I’m not sure what I have done to attract Lita’s notice besides pick up a married man at a bar but I figured I better I better quash it before I become the Scandaleuse of Rockport.

The band’s last set was a tribute to the Godfather of Soul, James Brown so we all shook our tailfeathers to Sex Machine and called it a night.

Coming soon: Redneck Riviera Booze Cruise and Rocky Horror Weekend

Sidebar: discovered that the feeling of despair was nothing more than PMS. What is the point of being on the pill if you just get your period whenever it feels like showing up?