Pardi Gras, Mardi Gras, Lundi Gras, Jazz Awareness, Blood
I don't know why I'm not dead yet.
This looks like Hell.
Bling-ass shoes.
General heathens.
There was also a Q and P show this same night at the Spellcaster (above), where Joel lost his phone a second time and Quintron found it the next day under the STAGE, muddy, soaked in liquor, with footprints all over it. Mardi gras miracles never cease.
This bump is artificial, y'all.
You can't see it in this photo because giant, shiny, moving things are really hard to take pictures of in the dead of night, but SALT N PEPA ARE ON THIS FLOAT SERIOUSLY.
This lady had Apple Bottom jeans annnnnd boot with fur.
...and then my camera died and we all went home after eating spicy African food and spending way too much money on everything.
So, Dear everyone to whom I owe letters, packages, boosie bad azz mixtapes, postcards, birthday presents, stickers, acrylic paintings, etc.,
my life is now starting to make a little bit more sense, I'm making money again, I am actually going to clean my house, and so it will all be coming soon.
Oh yeah, and Carl and I were in Grand Rapids two weeks ago for 26 hours for his grandmother's 90th birthday party. If you blinked, you missed it, which most of you did. I wish I had. We were on a Greyhound for 48 hours.