Sh, I'm trying to convince her to become a lawyer!: heyimconfused

heyimconfused

Sh, I'm trying to convince her to become a lawyer!

Oct 18, 2004 19:26

I composed a nice, long entry Friday night about Louisiana up to then, but as I went to post it, it of course deleted itself.

So I’ll start over because a.) I am cool like that b.) I am avoiding all the make-up work and stressing over deadline and c.)….because I can.

There were a lot of bayous. And dead raccoons. And dead possums. And everything is St. Something and is unpronounceable, like Therdibeax and Tchoupitoulas. I’m terrified of air planes so of course the flights weren’t exactly enjoyable, but thank goodness I didn’t have to sit next to the creepy Indian man with the hair growing two inches out of his ear on the plan from Atlanta to Baton Rouge. New Orleans was disappointingly boring. There were no drunk college kids hanging over the sides of balconies making out with random strangers spilling beer on people. It was sad. Everyone was either under the age of five or over thirty five years of age, and there were a thousand senior citizens walking around looking like total tourists in the feathered boas they bought.

But I bought one myself for my car so whatev. It’s really pretty too. Haha.

Anyways, we went to the French Market which was totally lame. All they had was food, some knock-off designer purses, and voodoo dolls which were cool until every street corner had the same exact kind. Café du Monde was pretty awesome though. And when I say “pretty awesome” I mean pretty freaking delicious. Café au lait + beignets = heaven. I had five different kinds of shrimp for dinner, and then we walked to Bourbon Street because I was bored. It was over run by the elderly and homeless people asking for money. But instead of yelling at you like a normal one would when you said, “Sorry” or ignored them, they would instead drawl, “Thank you and have a wonderful stay in New Orleans.”

WTF, man?

Only one didn’t say that. I think he and his buddies were actually drunk, because after he asked my dad for some change he yelled after us, “Hey, I wanna get on Brazil” (which would’ve been really weird and random if I hadn’t been wearing a jacket that says “Brazil” on the back).

So New Orleans wasn’t as great as I had hoped.

The next day we drove to Covington, saw Virginia whom I now love and her son Olivier, and helped her load her car with fruit salad for the brunch Sunday morning. She had an entire ice chest full, and as we found out Sunday, it was the best.

Anyways, after a long car ride (in which I had to pretend to sleep the whole time or else my dad would tap me and point out things like medians and bridges) we finally got to Alexandria. This trip has made me appreciate Valrico, because at least we have like, ice skating and a Wal*Mart. If we lived any of the places we went to, our “fun” would consist of going to the Family Dollar store, Popeye’s, and driving trucks around the middle of no where listening to Cajun music. There is NOTHING to do there. I hadn’t seen any one within ten years of my age since Wednesday (except Olivier, but whatever), I was bored, and starving, because my dad forgets a slightly vital need called food and basically, our eating schedule is get up at 7:30 and grab something (which is difficult that early) and then not bother with food matters until some one suggests dinner (or I die from low blood sugar). Then he acts like, “Oh, dinner? Well, I ate a muffin for breakfast and am full. But if you’re really hungry then FINE you pig, we’ll eat.”

So we picked up my Aunt Anne and went to this really good Italian place (after getting lost for fifteen minutes). I will talk about food a lot because that was basically the highlight of the trip. Louisiana and that area has THE BEST FOOD. Shrimp and oysters and po boys, omfg. Wonderful.

After we ate and my aunt of course got tipsy we dropped her off at her hotel and went back to ours. My dad has picked up quite nicely on the whole girl-needing-privacy bit (plus I don’t think he likes sharing a counter with all of my make-up and hair stuff) so I had my own room, even though he knocked on my door every fifteen minutes to ask me something. We were going to Fred’s Lounge the next day in Mamou (yeah, pronounced “Maw-moo”) to hear some nice (NOT) Cajun music, and even though we were leaving at like, eight, I went to bed around one and nearly died having to get up to get ready. I went down to get some breakfast because, knowing my dad, we wouldn’t eat again until the wedding’s reception that evening, and just threw on a pair of jeans, kept my pajama shirt on, stuffed my hair in a pony tail, not really caring that I looked gross.

So of course, a boys’ high school track team was down there getting a bite before the competition. And those track boys were a bit on the attractive side, i.e. VERY nice looking. And I hadn’t even brushed my teeth.

Fred’s was tiny and completely packed with people dancing and drinking. Fiddles and violins and drums and triangles were being banged on and the singing switched between English and French. One is called “Ride the Donkey.” About a man who buys a one eyed, three legged donkey and a farmer’s auction. Who is told by a “little lady” to “give ‘er a ride onne’ donkey, donkey, give ‘er a ride onne’ donkey, OO!” And then they honk. And everyone joins in. So my dad and I are surrounded by people in cowboy and trucker hats sucking down their third beer at nine thirty in the morning yelling, “HEE HAAAAW!” And there’s this tiny old lady joining in at the microphone, wheezing along in French with a bottle of “Hot Damn” whiskey in a holster around her waste. A few men are smiling widely and winking at me, and one pulls one of my pig tails and says, “I couldn’t resist.” When I laughed in an annoyed-touch-me-again-and-I’ll-break-your-face-way he asked, “Is that your dad?” I nodded and he said, “Oh.” And looked disappointed.

Another man told my dad he looks like Jeb Bush. Haha.

If you’re interested in the “Ride the Donkey” song you can listen to it because my dad bought the cd. Fourteen tracks long. And we listened to about half of it on the way back from Mamou, while I counted trucks (I gave up after twenty miles, but I was up to three hundred, including yard trucks).

Basically everyone had finally arrived at Alexandria, so we went to the hotel where everyone was meeting and had coffee. It was Virginia, her two sons Olivier and Townsend (I’ve decided I am naming one of my children Townsend- I love that name), Big Anne, Lil’ Anne (Anne is a family name, and if you don’t know a woman’s name in it, her name is probably Anne; the bride’s name was Anne, too), Minerva, Uncle Robert, Aunt Lynne, Hunter (LJ HOIWU M HA sorry), Tom, and a bunch of other cousins. Because everyone is our cousin. Seriously. God, everyone I met seemed to be my cousin.

I won’t even go into explaining exactly who is who, but Virginia, Li’ Anne, and Val (who wasn’t there) are sisters and my dad’s cousin; Val’s daughter Anne was the bride; and they are French, crazy, and absolutely adorable. The wedding was nice (ok, boring) and the reception was at a stunning old plantation house and had a lot of alcohol. My dad was a bit alarmed at my liking for the wine and limited me to half a glass.

Hahahaha. Oops. I felt bad, because while I was talking to this little girl Emily (A COUSIN), I was sitting there enjoying my wine and feeling a bit light headed while we discussed flying squirrels.

She is adorable, though. I don’t know if it means I’m immature, but I had more fun talking to that ten year old then I did any of the adults.

Anyways, it was pretty mediocre. My aunt made my dad dance with her which was really, really funny; Aunt Lynn was upset when I pointed out Hunter had grabbed the bride in a crazy dance that involved him throwing her around the dance floor (this was after he got like, two plates of food and set them on the table to take up space, almost jumped into the professional wedding pictures, and ran out to Anne and Charlie’s ride to the reception- a freshly waxed, snow white ’67 Packard and was apparently attempting to get in); and the cake tilted at an alarming angle. It was a little on the boring side but nice, all in all.

I was back in my room in time to catch the end of “28 Days Later,” yeeees!

Sunday morning we had to leave Alexandria by ten to drive back to Baton Rouge, but we stopped by Val’s for the cuddin’s brunch and had grits, grilliods, biscuits, and fruit salad. It was delicious. And Val, Virginia, and the women are the best. They are so cute and loud and crazy. It was about nine and already they had their bloody Marys in hand, sipping them daintily.

Virginia gave me a cup of the fruit salad to eat in the car since we were on the run, and I had finished it before we even got on the interstate.

We might go to Seattle in August, if school allows, for a family reunion. I’m not sure why it’d be in Seattle, but whatever.

So it was on the mediocre side with some definite fun times.

And I’m tired.

And hungry.

And here are some pictures.

Fred's and Mamou