Well, it's Mardi Gras again. Time for all the semi-attractive females to let lose their sweater puppets for an onslaught of drunken college boys and desperate, lonely men. In New Orleans there are actual cultural festivities associated with this pre-Lent observance, but for the rest of the country, it is just an excuse to come to work with a hangover on a Wednesday.
This year I am most offended because Mardi Gras beads are being sold at lunches to our students. Not because they represent a celebration marked by drunkenness and debauchery, but because in my day, we had to work for our beads! There was no way we could pay fifty cents a strand and walk around campus as if we had actually done something to earn those beads. We had to bear all in the freezing winter temperatures to greasy creepers. We wore those beads as a badge of honor, not a hip accessory.
So shame on you, society, for taking away the opportunity for our girls to learn the value of good, honest, hard work!
Ohhhh how your brutally honest tirade rubbed my grisly, cracked nipples the right way. You are so correct. I spent many a Fat Tuesday taking the Pointer Sisters out, trying to catch some glorious, Jesus approved beads like some sort of sexy ring toss at the State Fair, with nothing but toothless, drunken carnies standing around getting off on the free show. Those were the good old days. I'll be damned the day my daughter asks me for money to buy some cheap, Jap Oriental Trading beads for actual cash. I will look down my gin blossom nose at her in disgust and demand she either bare her breasts to me for money to buy the balls of plastic, or she can show complete strangers her hub caps and earn the god damned beads like her mother and aunt did.
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